WTL Issue 016 | January 28, 2026 |
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When snow teaches you to build
Lessons from the Long Haul
There was nothing better than waking up to a big snowfall. School almost never closed, but my dad would already be outside with his self-designed snow scoop, a wide metal shovel with a long curved handle that could move three times the normal load. This was the 1980s, before such things became common. He'd create towering berms on either side of the driveway, then climb onto our single-story log house to clear the roof, adding more to the piles below until the front windows nearly disappeared behind walls of white.
What mattered to me then was simple: how high we could climb before sliding down, whether our tunneling attempts would finally succeed (they rarely did), and which yard would host the tallest snow person. I remember one rare year when wet snow arrived early enough to pack properly. We pushed a growing snowball back and forth across the entire yard until it became too massive to lift. My dad helped us wedge an old board underneath to hoist the head into place.
What stays with me now is something different. The way we were ready the moment the first flakes fell. The neighborhood traditions that shaped our winters year after year. The resourcefulness we found when faced with an impossible task. And my dad's steady habit of clearing snow regularly, never letting it accumulate beyond what could be managed.
I try to create that same rhythm in my work now. Planning and action flowing together, with space to respond to whatever conditions arrive. In times when everything feels uncertain and the landscape keeps shifting, the way forward often looks like this: a clear intention, a focus that can hold for a season, and the willingness to reassess when the next season begins.
Field-Tested: Your Word for the year
A few years into graduate school and in my later twenties, I started choosing a single word to guide each year. Sometimes it named something I wanted to develop. Other times it pointed toward what I wanted to learn or experience. The practice itself has become constant, while the words shift with what each season requires.
In 2025, my word was Create. I wanted to establish a writing practice and find creative outlets beyond my usual work. The year brought this newsletter, a creative writing group, a monthly climate writing salon I now co-host, experiments with watercolor, and more reading for fun.
In 2024, I chose Community. That year I began weekly posts sharing equity-focused research insights, slowly building what became my presence on LinkedIn and the relationships that grew from showing up consistently.
For 2026, my word is Build. I'm testing and developing new offerings, strengthening partnerships, and creating the infrastructure that will support the work I want to do over the long term.
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Here's how to find your own intention for the year:
Reflect on last year first. Write freely for ten minutes about where you felt aligned and where friction showed up.
Notice what keeps surfacing. What feels incomplete or ready to emerge? What would make this year feel meaningful, regardless of external measures?
Choose your word. Pick something specific enough to guide decisions but spacious enough to evolve. Test it: Does this feel true? Can you return to it when lost?
Define what it means to you. Define your word in your own terms. What might it look like in your daily work, your relationships, and how you spend your energy?
Set a few tangible intentions. These are guideposts that help you know whether you're moving in the direction you've chosen.
Check in seasonally. At the end of each quarter, notice what your word has revealed and how your understanding has shifted.
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The practice practice is about naming what matters and noticing how that awareness shapes the hundreds of small acts that make up a year. Give yourself grace to adjust as you explore the word. Some years the meaning becomes clear quickly. Other years it takes months of living with it before you understand why that particular word chose you.
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π RESOURCE
Ready to work through this practice? Access the Word of the Year Worksheet to guide your reflection and track your insights throughout the year.
Signals & Shifts
Seventeen Indigenous artists took over the Metropolitan Museum of Art with work that carries a simple, powerful message: change the story, change the future. The two-minute video documenting their installation is worth your time. Itβs a reminder that the stories we center shape everything that follows.
James Clear's Atomic Habits built an entire framework around the power of small, consistent changes. His four laws of behavior change offer a practical approach to creating habits that serve you rather than drain you. If you're thinking about what you want to shift this year, these laws provide a starting place that doesn't require wholesale transformation.
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Question for reflection: What word or intention emerges to guide your work this season?
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Take good care of yourself and the work that's yours to do. Both matter more than you know.
Nikoosh
FINISHING YOUR PHD?
Trying to finish your dissertation or get that manuscript submitted? My colleague Andrea Perino is opening the next cohort of her "Ph*ing Do It!" 90-day challenge on February 2.
This is for you if you need: a clear deadline, a proven system, accountability, and support to keep your motivation high while writing.
A few spots are still available. Learn more here or reach out to Andrea at hello{at}andreaperino.com
Mention π Work That Lasts when you connect. Need funding support? Most participants get the fee funded by their organization, and Andrea can help with that.
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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