Why rhythm, not balance, is what modern work actually needs
The conversation around work life balance has resurfaced sharply, with many senior industry leaders speaking about a 60-to-90-hour work week. The intent behind these comments, as I see it, is not exploitation or disregard for personal life, but a belief that sustained effort is essential for competitiveness and long-term progress.
The reactions, however, were immediate and predictable. Some agreed, seeing these views as a necessary reminder of commitment in a demanding world. Others saw them as disconnected from today’s realities, especially in knowledge-driven work.
What followed was not a nuanced conversation, but a familiar one.
A debate anchored almost entirely on time spent at work.
And that, I think, is where we miss the point.
Not because working hard is a flawed idea.
But because reducing effort, contribution, and commitment to hours logged is an incomplete way to understand modern work.
The real question is not how many hours we work.
It is how we work, why we work, and what kind of energy those hours carry.
Why the idea of balance breaks down
Work life balance rests on an assumption of symmetry – that work and life can be neatly divided and equalised across time. In practice, that assumption rarely holds.
Life is uneven by nature. Some phases demand more attention than others. Certain responsibilities peak unexpectedly, while others recede. There are times that require sustained intensity, and others that allow space and recovery.
Modern work mirrors this unevenness. Projects unfold unevenly rather than in straight lines. Deadlines tend to cluster. Learning curves spike during transitions. Periods of change often demand disproportionate effort compared to periods of stability.
When we expect work and life to stay balanced at all times, we end up feeling guilty during the very phases that demand more from us. The problem isn’t a lack of discipline, but an expectation that doesn’t match reality.
Balance treats work as a time problem, when in reality modern work is an energy, focus, and meaning problem.
When long hours actually created value
I have leaned in deeply at different points in my career. That sustained effort created value when they were a conscious choice, not an enforced design.
I chose to give more because the organisation needed it at that moment, and I understood why that demand existed. I was present, focused, and mentally invested. The work mattered, and I could see how my effort connected to a larger outcome.
The same level of effort feels fundamentally different when it is imposed. When presence is demanded rather than chosen, and visibility is rewarded more than contribution, effort slowly shifts from intention to obligation. The work may still get done, but the relationship with work changes.
What made the difference was not the number of hours, but the sense of choice behind them. That distinction sits at the heart of how work is experienced, and why design matters more than discipline.
Why many leaders still default to time, and what that creates
It is also worth acknowledging that many leaders continue to frame commitment through long working hours. We are operating in environments shaped by global competition, compressed timelines, investor pressure, and rising expectations from customers and markets. In such contexts, time becomes the most visible and immediate signal of effort, even when it is an imperfect one.
For leaders carrying large responsibilities, asking for more time often feels like asking for more certainty. Time is measurable. Intent is not. Focus is not. Energy is not. In moments of pressure, what can be measured tends to dominate what actually matters.
Leadership, at senior levels, is therefore less about managing people and more about designing the systems within which people operate. What gets rewarded, what gets noticed, and what quietly gets ignored shapes behaviour far more reliably than policy statements ever will. Over time, people adapt to the environment they are placed in. That is how Culture is formed.
When endurance is rewarded, people learn to stay longer. When clarity is rewarded, people learn to think better. And when visibility is rewarded, people optimise for being seen rather than for doing meaningful work. This is why work life balance policies, by themselves, achieve very little if the underlying design rewards something else entirely.
It is an uncomfortable realisation, but an important one.
The responsibility individuals often overlook
Responsibility does not sit only with organisations. Individuals also need to be honest about how they use their energy.
Effort and effectiveness are not the same thing. Sustained presence without focus does not automatically translate into meaningful contribution. Focused effort creates value; fragmented effort does not.
What is often missed is that this quality of focus is shaped largely outside work. We are paid for what we do at work. We are not paid for what we do with work.
Health, learning, family, creative interests, and rest are not distractions from professional life. They are upstream investments in our capacity to think clearly, decide well, and stay engaged over time.
This is unpaid work on the self, but its impact shows up every day at work. When contribution is measured only by what is most visible, this entire dimension of effort remains unacknowledged, even though it quietly determines performance.
A closing reflection: From balance to rhythm
Work life balance treats work and life like two weights on a scale. The assumption is that if they are evenly distributed, things will feel right. Rhythm asks a different question: how effort is directed, sustained, and renewed over time.
Modern work does not fail because people lack commitment. It struggles because focus is diluted, availability is mistaken for contribution, and effort is extended without enough clarity. People are busy and connected all day and still feel ineffective.
Rhythm shifts attention away from constant responsiveness and back toward meaningful movement. It makes space for focus and recovery as part of how work actually gets done. For individuals, this removes the quiet anxiety of trying to keep everything in balance. For organisations, it changes what gets valued by design.
This is where the idea of Ikigai becomes useful, not as passion or idealism, but as alignment. When effort connects to contribution, learning, growth, and meaning, people regulate themselves better. They do not need to prove commitment through constant availability, because the work itself provides direction.
Ikigai does not remove fatigue. Meaningful work can still be demanding. What alignment reduces is resentment, the feeling that effort is disconnected from why it matters. And that difference often determines whether effort can be sustained.
Perhaps the real question is not how much people work, but what the system quietly asks of them. What it rewards. What it overlooks. And what kind of relationship with work it normalises over time.
Written by Vibhor Jain © 2026 | Originally published at mindspringlife.com