One in, one out
Drowning in good ideas doesn’t mean you’re on the right path. Sometimes it just means you’re scared to choose.
I’ve always known the “one in, one out” rule as a way to manage stuff. You buy a shirt, you donate a shirt. You bring home a new book, you let go of one that’s been gathering dust. In theory, at least.
But someone recently said they apply “one in, one out” to ideas.
It hit me like a quiet truth I wasn’t ready to hear.
I’m in the thick of building something I care deeply about—Proof Sprint.
When I say “building,” I don’t mean tinkering. I mean living inside it. Thinking about it while I’m chopping onions. Seeing it in every conversation. Catching fragments of it in other people’s frustrations and in my own late-night spirals.
It’s working. It’s real. But now that it’s real, the ideas won’t stop coming.
I have so many I want to act on. So many good ones. They pour in faster than I can evaluate them. The to-do list grows, and with it, this dull ache of dissatisfaction because so much feels undone. Like I’ve created a garden of open loops, but I keep planting more anyway.
The weirdest part is that the more ideas I have, the farther away I feel from the sharp, clear core idea I started with.
It’s not that I don’t know what matters. I do.
It’s that I’m holding onto everything else just in case it might matter later.
That “one in, one out” idea (the one for thoughts, not things) felt like a permission slip. Or maybe a dare.
To stop hoarding inspiration like it’s going to run out.
To trust that if an idea really matters, it’ll find its way back.
To remember that Proof Sprint itself didn’t come from a brainstorm. It came from friction. Repetition. That gut-deep “this again?” feeling.
Not every idea deserves a roadmap. Not every spark deserves a seat at the table.
So here’s what I’m trying now, as someone whose mind wants to keep everything:
One post-it note a week.
One idea gets to live on it.
Everything else goes into a “not now” folder.
It’s uncomfortable. It feels like grief, sometimes. But it also feels like focus.
A reminder that clarity isn’t found in adding more. It’s earned by letting go.
And maybe, if I’m honest, it’s time I ran my own backlog through the Requirements Compass. Marked which ideas are real, which are vibes, which are just dressed-up distractions.
Maybe it’s time I filled an Evidence Box for myself. Not to prove I’ve done enough. But to finally see what’s been true all along.
Until next time,
Pragati
I hope to chat with you soon,
Pragati
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