today.
and only that.
— small as a wren. tall as a tree. either is enough.
canthus is a quiet daily pacing app for people with ME/CFS, fibromyalgia, FND, and other chronic illnesses. it surfaces only the tasks you have the energy for today — and then it gets out of your way.
mana is finite. it replenishes.
each morning, a small check-in — how is the body, the mind, the mood — and the day names its pool. spend it on the things that matter. what's left over is just rest.
today.
no streaks. no overdue.
no urgency.
chronic illness has enough of those. canthus is a pacing tool, not a productivity tracker — the difference matters every day.
no streaks.
nothing here counts consecutive days. a missed check-in is not a failure — it's a thursday. the day is there when you come back.
no overdue.
tasks don't accrue red badges. anything you didn't spend mana on sits in later — soft, undisturbed, ready when you are.
no celebration.
no confetti. no "great job!" no congratulatory animation. a finished task says "done. ~2 mana spent." — and means it.
no numbers to maximise.
mana is finite and replenishes. it is not a score. spending less than your pool is not a "saving" — it is the day's right shape.
no red, no urgency.
there are no warning colors, no overdue notifications, no pressure cues. caution, when it appears, is dried clay — never alarm.
no account, no ads.
data stays on the phone. no sign-in. no telemetry beyond what you opt into. canthus is yours, not ours to harvest.
a day, paced.
three quiet moments. the morning check-in names the pool. today shows only what fits. the evening simply ends — no review, no scoring.
how is the body today?
three slow sliders — body, mind, mood — each relative to your usual. takes ten seconds. names today's mana pool.
how are you?
only what fits.
today's mana sits at the centre of the screen. tasks that fit the pool sit on the page. heavier ones rest, quietly, in later.
today.
your terrain.
at any time, you can step into your terrain — a small garden of pebbles showing the shape of the days. observed, never scored.
terrain.
the body keeps its own notes.
your terrain is the second screen — a calm field of pebbles, sparklines, and small observations from your check-ins. nothing here recommends what to do. it just notices what already happened.
"the week has been quiet. nothing here asks for more."
"tuesdays often run smaller. that's part of the pattern, not a problem."
"three rest days in a row. the pool is steadying."
terrain.
you've spent less mana before noon recently. mornings are running gentle.
for the days the body asks for less.
canthus was built with chronically ill people, for chronically ill people. it expects you to be lying down sometimes, to use one hand, to be in a flare. it does not assume you have eight hours of focused time. it does not assume you slept. it treats you as the expert on your own body.
small as a wren.
tall as a tree.
either is enough.
free · no account · no telemetry · open access