Too Much Wanting, Not Too Much Work
The problem is not that there are too many things to do. The problem is that there are too many things to want. — Naval Ravikant
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
What feeling does this quote bring up for you?
Reframing the Real Bottleneck
Naval Ravikant’s line pivots the usual complaint about modern life. Instead of blaming an overflowing schedule, he points to an overflowing appetite—an inner list of desires that multiplies faster than any calendar can accommodate. In other words, time pressure often isn’t created by tasks themselves, but by the expanding set of outcomes we feel we must pursue. Once you see that distinction, the problem becomes less about productivity hacks and more about priorities. The constraint is not the number of hours in a day, but the number of competing “shoulds” we allow to claim them.
Desire as a Self-Generating To-Do List
Each new want quietly drafts its own supporting tasks: wanting a better body implies workouts and meal planning; wanting higher status implies networking and constant performance; wanting perfect information implies endless reading. As these wants stack, the to-do list becomes a shadow cast by desire rather than a clear inventory of necessities. From there, busyness can start to feel strangely unavoidable, even when nothing is truly urgent. The more wants you entertain, the more obligations you manufacture—until the day begins to feel like a negotiation between incompatible identities.
The Hedonic Escalator
Moreover, wants tend to escalate. Achieving one goal often doesn’t reduce desire; it can refine it into a more demanding version of itself—better house, better role, better body, better brand. This pattern resembles what psychologists describe as hedonic adaptation, where gains quickly become the new baseline and the mind resumes wanting (Brickman & Campbell, 1971). Consequently, “too much to do” becomes a chronic state, because the finish line keeps moving. The workload isn’t just large; it is continuously regenerated by the expectation that satisfaction lies one upgrade ahead.
Attention as the Hidden Cost
Even before actions pile up, wanting fractures attention. To want many things at once is to keep multiple futures open in your head—each demanding comparison, planning, and second-guessing. That mental switching creates a subtle exhaustion that can make ordinary responsibilities feel heavier than they are. As a result, the experience of overwhelm can persist even when you are “doing enough.” The mind isn’t tired only from effort; it’s tired from holding too many competing preferences, fears, and imagined payoffs in view at the same time.
Choosing Wants, Not Just Tasks
Following Naval’s logic, relief comes less from optimizing execution and more from editing desire. If you drop a want, you don’t merely remove a task—you remove an entire branch of supporting decisions, purchases, comparisons, and anxieties. This is why saying “no” can feel like regaining time, even when the clock doesn’t change. This also shifts the question from “How do I fit it all in?” to “Which wants are actually mine?” Once wants are chosen deliberately, the to-do list becomes a tool rather than a symptom.
A Practical Path to Less Wanting
One way to apply the quote is to periodically inventory your wants and ask what they are buying you: admiration, safety, freedom, belonging, or simple curiosity. Then, identify the few that align with your values and the many that are borrowed—often from social comparison or ambient expectations. Seneca’s Letters (c. 65 AD) echoes this strategy by warning that poverty is not having little, but desiring more. Finally, with fewer wants, you can commit more fully to what remains. Paradoxically, that narrowing often increases both effectiveness and peace, because your days stop trying to serve every possible version of you at once.