WTL Issue 031 | September 9, 2026

What You Already Have

Lessons from the Long Haul

Sunbeams cut through the airplane window in stripes, catching my eyes each time I blinked awake. The wheels found the runway, then bumped along, and I slowly surfaced more fully from two days of meetings and too little sleep. My colleague and I had landed at Charles de Gaulle en route to DC, an international connection that required us to go back through security, with six hours to spare before our next flight.

They knew Paris. I was a novice. “Let’s take the train into town,” they said, and I followed them through a warren of corridors and escalators. At the ticketing machine, the small rectangular cardstock shot out with a snap, as if the machine wanted us gone.

Forty minutes later we climbed out from Saint-Michel Notre-Dame station and up stone steps onto an empty bridge over the Seine. The towers of Notre Dame stood across the plaza, a beacon even at that hour. My carryon suitcase wheels rumbled over the pavers, the only sound breaking the quiet of the Sunday morning. Cafe chairs sat stacked on narrow sidewalks behind us. Pigeons had the limestone pavers to themselves, our only company as they searched for crumbs left by yesterday’s visitors. We stood at Point Zéro, the marker in the pavers that everything in Paris is measured from.

Our time there was short, so we made the most of it. I went into the cathedral alone. The side aisles had low ceilings and the space was dark, and almost no one else was there. My footsteps were the only echoing sound. Looking toward the center, the space opened into something vast, and for a moment there was nothing to do but stand in it. Back outside, one cafe worker, setting up for the day, took pity on two travelers with luggage and brought us small glasses of sparkling water and espresso before officially opening. We sat with the gothic towers rising against a sky almost too blue to be real, and said nothing for a while.

What stays with me isn’t the espresso or the paper tickets. It’s the quiet hum of that hour, the two of us sitting in silence and reflection. It’s the choice we made with almost no time at all, to show up on purpose.

We rarely control the schedule. We may not set the agenda, choose how long we stay, or decide what the day hands us. What we control is whether we show up with intention, or let the day happen to us.

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Field-Tested: Showing Up With Intention

Some prep helps no matter what the day holds. Here’s the sequence I run through before and during a conference, a gathering, or a multi-day meeting.

Before you arrive

Make space. Review the agenda in the context of your own reasons for attending, then block your calendar to protect that focus. Mine usually says “no availability, in all day meetings”.

Set Intention. Spend 15 minutes, written or spoken aloud, naming what you want from your time there. Goals can differ by event. If you know a lot of other participants, maybe your goal is to catch up with old contacts and meet 5 new ones.

Know your gift. Identify what you’re offering to the discussion or the group as a whole. Everyone carries a point of view or a lens of expertise worth naming before you walk in.

While you’re there

Be present. Try not to check email, chat platforms, social media, or any other distraction not related to why you are there.

Take care. If you’re at a multi-day meeting, this may be the most important one. Identify one thing you're doing for yourself each day. Whether that’s an hour in the hotel gym, a midday walk in the park, or some time in a quiet corner with the book you’re reading for pleasure. Add that time to your calendar as a reminder.

Before you leave

Close. Find a small way to signal to yourself that your time at the meeting has ended. Free write for 5 min reflecting on what came up, then take a few more minutes to note what’s stuck with you and what you want to follow up on.

Connect. Note the people you want to stay in touch with. Send the LinkedIn requests or the short email: it was good to meet you, here’s the article I mentioned, let’s stay in touch. Steal that line if you need it.

These checkpoints are about the event itself: before you arrive, while you’re there, before you leave. Stepping away from your other work to go is its own transition. So is stepping back into it afterward. Here are my tips for how to set yourself up for out-of-office and easing back in once you return.

The “close” step above is really about this: jot down one thought worth returning to. That’s also a square on this year's WTL Summer Bingo Card. We’re stretching into fall but I think that is okay.

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Signals & Shifts

​NOAA pulled its support of the Arctic Report Card (Grist) this year. The annual publication draws on hundreds of scientists and partners to synthesize the latest data on the Arctic’s rapidly changing environment. I’ve relied on it for years, both for graphics and for the trends worth watching. The three ARC editors are determined to publish this year’s edition anyway. Watch editor Twila Moon talk about what happened on PBS News Hour.

2026 lead editor Rick Thoman also writes the Alaska and Arctic Climate Newsletter on Substack, publishing monthly on Arctic wildfire, sea ice updates, and climate trends.

For a reminder on last year’s findings, The Conversation ran a piece on a region transforming faster than expected. It’s by 2025 lead editor Matthew Druckenmiller, with Moon and Thoman.

Question for reflection: Think of one event or meeting still ahead of you this month. What’s one thing you’ll do to show up with intention? Reply and let me know.

Take good care of yourself and the work that's yours to do. Both matter more than you know.

Nikoosh

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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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