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WTL Issue 013 | December 3, 2025 |
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Unscheduled Hours
Lessons from the Long Haul
The double knit yellow scarf scratched my cheeks. My mother had wrapped it twice around my head and knotted it firmly at the back, the kind of move only a parent’s hand could execute with such certainty. Only my eyes showed between the hat’s edge and the scarf’s wooly barrier. Inside the kitchen, stamping my feet on linoleum in full winter great, I was too hot. My sister fumbled with her boot laces beside me, her own scarf waiting to be wound around her small face.
Then we were outside. The early evening had already darkened, but street lights pooled yellow circles at the corners of the yard, illuminating the tracks our red saucer sleds would carve through fresh snow. We hauled snow into piles that became our versions of Olympic luge runs. Neighborhood friends appeared from between houses, drawn by the sound of our voices and the promise of an unscheduled evening. One by one, they were called home to dinner, their voices fading as they trudged toward lit kitchen windows.
Those weeks between falling leaves and frozen ground were a kind of waiting. An inch of snow might appear overnight only to melt by afternoon. We needed the inches to accumulate, to give us hours outside rather than minutes. When school closed for winter holiday, we became unscheduled people. Free to disappear into play until our toes turned into ice blocks or our stomachs growled us back inside.
Children understand something adults have to relearn: play is part of rest, and rest is how we sustain ourselves. Not just our bodies, but our capacity for the work that matters.
Unlike children heading outside after the first good snowfall, we need systems to protect our unscheduled hours.
Field-Tested: Holding the Line on Rest
The hardest boundary to set is the one around rest itself.
In college, through graduate school, and into my first professional roles, I checked email after hours and on weekends. Some of that came from being early career, from the genuine excitement of exploring new ideas, and chasing ambitious goals. But much of it was simpler: I hadn’t yet learned what my boundaries were, much less how to communicate them.
Now I know that taking deliberate weeks away throughout the year sharpens my focus when I return. Rest fuels the kind of innovative thinking that can’t be forced during long stretches of constant availability. Still, setting these boundaries isn’t easy. The guilt arrives quickly. Here’s what I’ve learned about saying no and following through:
When You’re Traveling for Work
The central task is the reason you’re traveling. Everything is negotiable. Let go of the idea that you’ll also function as though you’re at your desk.
Set an automated message like this:
“I am on work-related travel from [dates] and in all day meetings. I will check email for urgent messages each day in the morning. When I return to my desk on [weekday and date], I will review all messages.”
Or if connectivity is limited:
“From [dates], I am on work-related travel with limited or no connectivity. I will review all messages when I return to my desk on [weekday and date].”
When You’re Taking Personal Leave
When I take personal leave, I try to unplug entirely. I set my work email to Out of Office. I adjust my mobile app to show only my personal email. I turn off notifications from Slack and Asana, rescheduling any pending items to my return date. Because I use Calendly and keep my calendar current, the scheduling system runs itself.
Your message might read:
“I am currently out of the office on personal leave from [dates]. I will review all messages when I return on [weekday and date].”
Or more directly:
“I am on winter break to rest and reflect on the year. If your message is still relevant please resend it after [date of return].”
Three Elements Every Message Needs:
- Your status: personal leave, work travel, or both
- Your availability: checking once daily for urgent items, or completely off-grid
- Your return: the first weekday you’ll be back at your desk
The follow-through is harder than setting the boundary. It’s tempting to read everything and respond anyway. If you need a transition step, use scheduled send to queue responses for your first day back.
I block that first day entirely. No meetings, no new projects. Just the work of re-entering: reading email, sorting what’s urgent from what waited. I keep my auto-responder active until I’ve cleared my inbox, so no one expects an immediate reply.
Signals & Shifts
Trisha Hersey, founder of The Nap Ministry, offers a brief yet worthwhile 8-minute interview on the movement's four tenets. Active rest, she explains, slows our bodies enough to reconnect body and mind. Hersey’s book Rest Is Resistance is now on hold at my library, next on my reading list.
For those navigating boundaries with a manager, Angela Haupt’s piece in Time tackles practical scenarios: handling off-hours messages, protecting vacation time, managing chatty coworkers. The advice is direct and useful to help you protect your attention.
Question for reflection: What would it look like to rest as part of your climate work, rather than a break from it? Winter break is approaching. What’s your first step toward claiming some unscheduled hours? I’d love to hear what you’re planning.
Take good care of yourself and the work that's yours to do. Both matter more than you know.
Nikoosh
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