The problem isn't that there is too much to see. The problem is that you are trying to see the Kyoto that exists in photos, not the one that exists in geography.
I have sat across from dozens of friends who open their laptops to show me a spreadsheet. It is always the same spreadsheet. Day 1: Arashiyama in the morning, Fushimi Inari in the afternoon, Gion at night. Day 2: Kiyomizu-dera at sunrise, Kinkaku-ji before lunch, and maybe a side trip to Nara. They look at me with a mixture of pride and panic, waiting for me to bless this logistical house of cards.
I usually have to be the one to gently knock it down.
The Deception of Scale
Kyoto is deceptive. On a map, it looks like a compact grid, a manageable square of history. But this is a lie of scale. The distance between the Golden Pavilion in the northwest and the Silver Pavilion in the northeast is not just a matter of kilometers; it is a matter of bus routes, traffic jams, and the sheer, exhausting density of human bodies.
The quiet Kyoto you imagine exists, but only if you stop running.
It's Not a Theme Park
The anxiety you feel when planning this trip comes from a fundamental misunderstanding of what Kyoto actually is. You are treating it like a theme park where the goal is to hit every ride. But Kyoto is a living city of 1.5 million people, most of whom are just trying to get to work while you are trying to take a selfie on a bridge.
When you pack your schedule with the "Big Five" temples, you are essentially signing up for a tour of the back of other tourists' heads. You will spend more time on the number 206 bus than you will in quiet contemplation. And by the time you get to that third temple of the day, they all start to look the same. You stop seeing the moss; you only see the ticket booth.
The Art of Subtraction
The most successful trips I have seen are the ones that embrace subtraction. Instead of asking "What else can I fit in?", ask "What am I willing to miss?"
If you choose to spend an entire afternoon just walking up the Philosopher's Path, sitting in a cafe, and maybe visiting one small, unnamed shrine, you have not "missed" Kinkaku-ji. You have traded a photo opportunity for an actual experience. You have traded the stress of a deadline for the rhythm of the city.
Realize that you cannot "do" Kyoto. You can only be in it. The moment you accept that you will leave with a list of things you didn't see is the moment your itinerary becomes a plan, rather than a source of guilt.