What Happens When You Cancel Everything

What Happens When You Cancel Everything

Last Monday, someone I heard about did something radical. They didn’t quit their job, move to Bali, or burn their to-do list in a ceremonial fire pit. Nope—they just… deleted every single meeting from their calendar.

No “quick syncs.”
No “touch bases.”
No “just checking in” Zoom calls.

For one full week, their calendar was completely blank. And something unexpected happened: the world didn’t end. Instead, something better began.


Little Rebellions, Big Clarity

Let’s be honest—most of us live by our calendars. We schedule productivity like a machine, cramming creativity between back-to-back video calls and labeling it “focus time.” We mistake motion for meaning, like running on a treadmill and convincing ourselves we’re traveling somewhere.

But this person? They rebelled, in the smallest, quietest way possible. A few clicks. A deep breath. Silence. At first, it felt uncomfortable. Like they were shirking responsibility or being selfish. But by Wednesday, something clicked. They started waking up and asking themselves: What do I actually need to do today?

Not: What do others expect?
Not: What’s on the agenda?
But: What matters—to me?

It was like peeling off a layer of noise and finally hearing their own thoughts again.


The Real Work Was Hiding

With no meetings, no frantic switching between Slack threads, no performance of productivity—they started creating. Not reacting. Creating.

They finally made progress on a project they’d been “meaning to get to” for six months. Not because someone assigned it. Not because there was a deadline. But because they cared. And here’s the kicker: this wasn’t some dream passion project. It was work. Just the kind that actually meant something.

You know the difference, right? The work that pulls something honest out of you. That asks more from your mind and heart. That reminds you why you started this career in the first place. It had been there all along—buried under meetings and metrics and Monday check-ins.


A Week Without Noise

What would happen if you canceled your calendar for a week?

Seriously. Imagine that for a second.

No daily standups.
No project status updates.
No meetings about meetings.

Would things fall apart? Or would you discover that you’ve been holding up things that don’t actually matter? A blank calendar is scary because it forces you to be intentional. There’s no one else steering the day. Just you, your time, and your gut. And if that thought freaks you out a little—good. That might be your sign that something’s off.


You Don’t Need to Burn It All Down

This isn’t about quitting your job or ghosting your boss. You don’t need to disappear into the woods and write poetry in a cabin (unless that’s your thing).

But you can build little rebellions into your week.

  • Cancel one recurring meeting that adds no real value.
  • Block one full morning just to think, dream, or make something.
  • Say no to a call and write what you really want to build instead.

These aren’t productivity hacks. They’re identity reminders. Because here's the truth: the more noise you remove, the more clearly your work starts to speak to you.


The Guided Shift Isn’t Loud

Change doesn’t always arrive with a bang. Sometimes, it’s a quiet shift. A subtle rerouting of your attention. It starts when you stop being so available to everything—and start being fully present for the right things.

That’s the guided shift. It’s not forced. It’s not reactive. It’s a decision: to pause the chaos, even temporarily, and see what’s left when it’s just you and the work that matters. Sometimes, what’s left is surprisingly beautiful.


So Here’s Your Invitation

Try it. Just once. Delete a day of meetings. Turn off your notifications. Go calendar-silent.

Then ask yourself:

What would I work on… if no one was watching?

Let that question sit with you. Let it pull you in a direction. Let it guide the next little rebellion. And if you find something meaningful in that silence—write it down. Keep it close. That’s your compass now.

That’s where your real work lives.


Writing after work, with lukewarm coffee. Like what you read? Buy me a coffee ☕