WTL Issue 005 | August 13, 2025 |
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The Weight of Every Yes
Lessons from the Long Haul
The hotel lobby buzzed with the familiar energy of an environmental science conference—conversations layered over the hum of recycled air. I sat tucked into a corner, sitting crosslegged on the bright blue carpet tiles covering chilly concrete floors. Laptop balanced on my legs, trying to make sense of my schedule while delegates shuffled past. Everyone seemingly swimming upstream in the always too brief coffee break. My calendar showed back-to-back sessions: a water security panel sandwiched between Arctic sea ice discussions, each important in their own right, but together creating a patchwork that left me wondering how I'd become so scattered across topics that only loosely touched the policy work that actually kept me awake at night with purpose.
I caught myself wondering: How did I end up here?
It was a familiar feeling from those early years when saying yes felt like the only way forward. Yes to the Russian fieldwork workshop when my expertise centers Indigenous-led climate solutions in North America. Yes to the local renewable energy infrastructure panel when my work more broadly touches on federal policy. Yes to every invitation that landed in my inbox, each one carrying the weight of networking wisdom and the fear that this might be the connection that changed everything.
The switch from automatic yes to intentional no doesn't arrive with fanfare. It creeps in quietly, usually after one too many meetings where you realize you're the wrong person in the right room, or the right person in the wrong conversation entirely.
Here's what those years of scattered yeses taught me: when everything becomes urgent, nothing holds crisis-level importance. When every opportunity feels like a priority, you lose sight of what actually moves the needle on the work that called you to climate leadership in the first place.
The art isn't in learning to say no—it's in learning that no creates the sacred space where your most meaningful yes can take root.
Field-Tested: The Speaking Invitation Filter
My inbox holds a folder of declined invitations, each one a small act of boundary-setting that protected something larger. Public speaking events, I've learned, demand not just preparation time but the particular kind of energy that requires careful stewarding. Too many panels and my well runs dry just when the work that matters most needs me fully focused.
Here is the four question filter I've developed over years of both good choices and instructive mistakes:
First, the heart check: Does this event spark something in you? Do your values find recognition in their mission, their approach, their vision for the gathering? If your gut response feels flat, trust that signal.
Then, the opportunity lens: What doors might this open—not just for networking, but for the kind of collaborations that could amplify your impact in ways that align with where you're trying to go?
Next, the inclusion question: Who else is speaking? Who's in the audience? Does the lineup reflect the diversity of perspectives this topic deserves, or are you being asked to represent more than your expertise should carry?
Finally, the practical reality: What's the time commitment, the format, the compensation? Are they investing in speakers in a way that honors the knowledge being shared?
When the answer tilts toward yes, I move forward. When it doesn't, I've learned to decline without the guilt that once accompanied every boundary I drew.
For events without speaker budgets that otherwise interest you: "Thank you for thinking of me. I'm fully booked for pro bono speaking engagements this season. My fee for events like this is $XXXX. Please reach out again if that works for future gatherings."
For invitations that simply don't fit: "Thank you for reaching out. I'm not available for this event. Wishing you a successful convening."
No elaborate explanations needed. No apologies for having boundaries. Just clarity, delivered with warmth.
Signals & Shifts
The conversation around strategic NOs is gaining momentum in climate circles, particularly as leaders recognize that sustainable impact requires sustainable practices—including how we spend our energy and attention.
Fast Company's speaking invitation framework offers additional filters for evaluating opportunities, emphasizing alignment between personal goals and event outcomes. Their approach reinforces that thoughtful selection isn't selfishness—it's stewardship.
Executive coach Alicia Dara has written about the hidden costs of saying yes to everything, particularly for women and people of color who often carry disproportionate requests for unpaid labor. Her work reminds us that boundaries aren't just personal wellness tools—they're acts of systemic change. Alicia is an excellent teacher and offers private Power Voice coaching and group trainings for executives, both onsite in Seattle and virtually anywhere.
Question for reflection: What would become possible in your climate work if you said no to three things this month to create space for one thing that truly matters?
This is also one of the Work That Lasts Summer 2025 Bingo squares.
Take good care of yourself and the work that's yours to do. Both matter more than you know.
Nikoosh
Work That Lasts arrives every other Wednesday. Forward to a colleague who might need these tools, or reply and let me know what's working in your own practice.
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