There’s a quiet myth that a desk is just a surface. A neutral place where work happens. In reality, it’s a set of decisions made visible.
What stays. What leaves. What gets within arm’s reach. What you’re willing to look at every day.
A cluttered desk isn’t a moral failure, and a minimalist one isn’t a virtue. But every object you keep nearby is a small agreement you’ve made with your attention. This belongs here. This matters. This deserves space.
I’ve noticed that when my desk gets crowded, my thinking does too. Not dramatically—just enough to feel slightly resistant. Like my thoughts have to step around things before they can move forward.
Clearing a desk doesn’t solve big problems. But it does something quieter and more reliable: it lowers the friction to begin. And often, that’s the only thing standing between an idea and its first sentence.