WTL Issue 028 | July 15, 2026 |
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Feet on Solid Ground
Lessons from the Long Haul
The table itself was a shadowbox, its wood frame holding hundreds of tiny compasses beneath the glass. Six chairs fit around it. Every time someone sat down at the far end, the whole thing shook. Pass something magnetic over the surface and the compass dials would spin in unison, then settle, every one of them pointing north. The table sat in the main room of an old house turned bookstore and coffeeshop, near large windows, beneath a vaulted peaked roof with skylights that let the morning light shift and move. There was a dark backroom with technical books lining the walls, but I never sat back there. I wanted the light, my DF cappuccino, and the quiet company of a blank page.
My creative writing group met at that table for a few years. That's where I practiced pulling memories forward to the page. And it's where I started shaping my word for the year.
Build. I wrote about choosing it in Issue 016, and now, halfway through the year, I'm checking in with it again.
Building, for me, means making something and putting it into the world, then watching what happens and trying again. Small habit shifts that compound through consistency. Showing up even when you're unsure. Following a wild idea for a while before deciding whether it holds.
It was one of those Seattle spring days where all four seasons pass through in just a few hours. We recently learned the café was closing, and on one of my last visits I sat with an assessment tool in draft form, worrying the material was too basic. That anyone working in this space already knew it. That the thing I spent months shaping might land with a shrug. If you've ever poured time into something and then wondered whether it matters to anyone but you, you know the feeling.
Building can feel inward, uncertain, and sometimes lonely. But the season is turning. The compasses in that shadowbox always steadied eventually, even after someone rattled the table. They always found north again. I'm trusting the same will be true here.
What we build often starts with an honest look at where we stand, and sometimes the most useful tool is one that helps us catch our bearings.
Field-Tested: The Arctic Work Readiness Assessment
If you read the last few issues, you saw me mention a paid resource I was building for organizations approaching work in the U.S. Arctic. That draft I kept second-guessing at the café is now ready. Like those hundreds of tiny compasses, it took some rattling before it found its north.
The Arctic Work Readiness Assessment is a self-assessment for organizations across any sector that are considering or just beginning Arctic engagement. Rather than offering instruction, it offers a mirror. It walks you through the governance structures, the key players, and the gaps that tend to surface before the real work even starts.
The first component provides foundational context, covering regional diversity, land ownership, governance, and the relationships that shape how work moves in the Arctic. This section gives you what you need to understand the questions that follow.
The second component is a scored self-assessment across four areas, covering your knowledge base, your organizational approach and culture, your team's capacity and resources, and your awareness and reflection practices. Your score places you in one of three readiness levels, each paired with an interpretation, a gap analysis worksheet, and next steps. Plan for about 45 to 60 minutes to complete it.
$49 | Digital download | Immediate access
Know someone preparing for Arctic work? Forward this to a colleague who should see it.
Building takes its own kind of energy, and so does knowing when to step back. Summer is a time for gathering. I look forward to connecting with family and friends near and far, to picking all the berries, and to eating fresh fish. It also means I'm gathering words and restoring my focus for the rest of the year.
My mid-year summer reset is coming up. There will be no issue on July 29. The next issue arrives August 12.
Signals & Shifts
If you're adventuring this summer, Pursuit has launched the world's first electric ice explorer carrying tourists to the Athabasca Glacier in Jasper National Park, Canada. It made me wonder whether something similar could work in Juneau or Denali.
Summer in Alaska means fish. If you’re curious about the policy side of that, three short videos (each under 5 minutes) are worth watching: one on the history of Indigenous hunting and fishing rights in Alaska, another one on equity and wellbeing in fisheries, and a third on the role of science in fish policy and decision-making.
Question for reflection: What are you building right now that still feels uncertain? Hit reply and tell me.
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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