I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the gap between what we know we need to do and what we’re actually willing to do.

Not in theory. In practice. When the stakes are real and the consequences matter.

This year, I’ve had to make several decisions that I’ve been putting off, some of them for years. Decisions I knew were right but that felt impossible in the moment. Walking away from revenue that no longer aligned with where we’re headed. Restructuring relationships that were incongruent with our vision. Letting go of ways of working that served us well in the past but were actively blocking our future.

Each time, there was a moment where I had to choose: the comfort of what I knew, or the reality of what I needed.

It boils down to a simple truth: What got you here might just be exactly what’s holding you back.

The Pattern I Keep Seeing

Here’s what I’ve learned after 15 years working with hundreds of social impact organizations:

The biggest barrier to your next stage of growth isn’t lack of vision. It isn’t lack of funding. It isn’t even lack of capacity.

It’s attachment to what got you here.

The program that built your reputation but no longer serves your mission.

The funder who strings you along with just enough support to keep you dependent but never enough to let you scale.

The board member who helped you survive your startup phase but is now dragging your strategic thinking backward.

The team member you love, who’s been with you from the beginning, but who can no longer execute at the level your organization needs.

The “we’ve always done it this way” processes that made sense when you were scrappy but now slow you down.

The old partnerships, old structures, old identities that you’re clinging to — even though you know, deep down, they’re what’s keeping you stuck.

And the hardest part isn’t identifying what needs to change. You already know what needs to change. The hardest part is admitting you’ve been choosing comfort over growth. It’s deciding that you’re done pretending otherwise, and taking the very actions you’ve been putting off.

But sometimes it feels like you’re powerless to make that change. Or it feels like betrayal. Or it feels too risky, especially when things are already fragile.

So you don’t. And you stay stuck.

Why This Is Especially True in Social Impact

I’ve seen this pattern play out differently in the social impact space than anywhere else.

Mission-driven leaders have a unique form of stubbornness — one that’s rooted in deep values and genuine care. You’re not motivated by profit or fame or status. You’re motivated by impact. By justice. By the people and communities you serve.

And that’s beautiful. That’s why this work matters.

But it also means you’re more likely to:

• Keep underperforming programs running because shutting them down feels like abandoning people

• Accept toxic funding relationships because “any money is better than no money”

• Tolerate team dysfunction because firing someone feels like a moral failure

• Avoid hard conversations because you don’t want to be “that kind of leader”

You tell yourself you’re being loyal when you’re actually just avoiding a hard conversation. You call it resilience when it’s really just fear of change. You convince yourself that holding on is the same as showing up for your mission.

But it’s not.

What you’re actually doing is protecting your comfort at the expense of your impact.

And the sector suffers for it. Because when individual organizations can’t break through to their next stage, the entire ecosystem stays stuck.

What Actually Happens When You Let Go

I’ve watched organizations make the hard call. Let go of the beloved but underperforming program. Walk away from the funder who’s more trouble than they’re worth. Restructure the team even when it’s painful. Sunset the old brand identity that served them well but no longer represents where they’re going.

And here’s what happens:

Short-term discomfort. Long-term momentum.

There’s grief. There’s loss. There’s the nauseating feeling that you’re making a terrible mistake.

But then space opens up. New partnerships become possible. The team breathes. Strategy gets clearer. You stop spending 80% of your energy maintaining what’s no longer working and start spending it on building what comes next.

Because here’s the thing about transformation that nobody tells you:

It doesn’t happen in strategy decks or visioning retreats. It happens in the daily micro-decisions where you choose your future over your past.

Every conversation with that problem funder is a choice.
Every meeting with that underperforming team member is a choice.
Every hour you spend trying to force your new strategy into your old structures is a choice.

And those choices compound. They either move you one step closer to where you need to be, or one step further away.

The Real Cost of Inaction

When you refuse to let go of what’s no longer working, you’re not just holding your organization back. You’re holding yourself back, too.

As a leader. As a strategist. As someone who’s trying to build something meaningful in the world.

Because every time you accommodate dysfunction to preserve a relationship, you’re teaching yourself that your boundaries don’t matter.

Every time you absorb the cost of someone else’s inability to follow through, you’re reinforcing the belief that your capacity is infinite and your needs are secondary.

Every time you say yes when you really mean no, you’re chipping away at your ability to lead with clarity and conviction.

And eventually, you stop trusting yourself. You stop believing in yourself. You start to wonder if maybe the problem is you — maybe you’re just not good enough, not strategic enough, not resilient enough to make this work.

But that’s not true, unless you are unwilling the make the difficult, uncomfortable, but ultimately right choices.

And the only way to become that leader is to practice being that leader. Every single day. In every single decision.

This is the work. Not the creative work, not the strategic work — the identity work. The shedding of who you were so you can become who you need to be.

What Are You Holding On To?

If you’re reading this and feeling the weight of something you know you need to let go of, here’s what you should to ask yourself:

Is this thing I’m holding onto protecting my mission, or is it protecting my comfort?

And here’s the harder question:

What would it cost you to let go? And what will it cost you if you don’t?

Because here’s the truth: letting go always costs something. There’s loss, there’s grief, there’s uncertainty. That discomfort is real.

But staying stuck costs more.

It costs you momentum. It costs you clarity. It costs you the opportunity to build what you’re actually capable of building.

And it costs the people you’re trying to serve, because every year you give up on your vision is a year you’re not reaching your full potential.

What I’m Choosing

I’m choosing to trust that the discomfort of letting go is better than the comfort of staying stuck.

I’m choosing to believe that the organizations and leaders who are ready for this conversation will find their way to partnership. And the ones who aren’t? They’re not meant to be part of this chapter.

And that’s okay.

The real win is the integrity between your truth and your actions. It’s knowing what you stand for. It’s trusting yourself enough to make the hard call and live with the consequences.

And that’s the only way you ever actually grow.

So here’s my question for you:

What are you clinging to that’s blocking your next chapter?

Not the easy answer. The real one. The thing you know needs to change but you’ve been too afraid, too loyal, too exhausted to address.

Because I promise you: it’s not a mystery. You already know what it is.

The only question is whether you’re willing to let go.

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Every week I talk to social impact leaders who are navigating change. Some come to us when they’re ready to rebuild — testing new models, questioning old assumptions, reimagining what’s possible.

Others come when they’re poised to scale. They’ve built something that works and now they need to amplify it. And some come when they’re simply stuck. Working harder than ever but spinning in place.

But here’s what I’m starting to see: The leaders and orgs who are thriving right now — whether they’re building, consolidating, or resting — have learned to read their seasons. And the ones who are struggling are fighting against theirs.

Once you see this pattern, you can’t unsee it.

The Pattern Nobody Teaches You

Here’s what nobody tells you about organizational growth: it’s not about doing more, moving faster, or doing better. It’s about knowing what season you’re in and acting accordingly.

Some seasons call for bold vision. Plant the seeds. Launch the initiative. Take the risk.

Other seasons call for discipline. Tend what you’ve planted. Show up every day. Do the hard work that makes things grow.

Still other seasons call for harvesting. Consolidating gains, reflecting on what worked, capturing value before the next cycle begins.

And some seasons call for rest. For letting go of what’s not working. For rebuilding capacity before moving on to the next big thing.

When You’re Out of Sync

I spent most of this year calling it a sh*tshow. I recently had to intentionally reframe this belief just to get out of my own way.

It felt like the harder I worked, the more energy I put into things, the harder things got. I kept asking myself: what am I doing wrong?

But I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just out of sync with my season.

I thought we were in spring. Time to plant new things. I imagined and launched new offerings and frameworks. I rethought our path. I defaulted to my comfort zone. The “What if” frame of mind. The problem solving instinct that’s helped me get through tough times in the past.

But I think I was planting when I should have been tending.

Turns out it’s harder to read the label from inside the bottle.

I see it everyday: Leaders launching initiatives when they should be consolidating. Organizations trying to scale when they should be stabilizing. Teams pushing for growth when they need rest.

All that effort. All that exhaustion. Not because they’re doing the wrong things, but because they’re doing them in the wrong season.

What 15 Years Have Taught Me

Looking back, I can see Cosmic’s cycles clearly now. Years 1-3 were raw energy and experimentation. Years 4-6 got serious. Building systems, making it real. Years 7-12 were about focus, differentiation, and deepening our expertise.

And now years 13-15 feel like…starting over. Reimagining our model. Testing assumptions. Adapting to massive change. But without that fresh excitement that year 1 had.

How do you get excited about rebuilding something you’ve already put 15 years into building?

I don’t have a perfect answer. But I’m learning that maturity isn’t about having solved all the problems. It’s about recognizing the patterns — the cycles you’re living through even when you can’t always see them in the moment.

The Work Nobody Wants to Do

As a creative thinker who feels most comfortable in that “what if” space, I’m always tempted to plant more seeds. New ideas. New experiments.

But new ideas are easy. The question is: who’s going to tend to them? Who’s going to do the simple but hard work of showing up every single day and realizing those ideas?

I guess that’s what I’m doing with this newsletter. With our Spotlight Series. With our podcast. Work I genuinely enjoy, but that requires consistency, not fits and starts.

Fits and starts is one of the biggest mistakes in branding and communications work. Organizations do the big rebrand, the big campaign, then nothing. No consistency. No nurturing. No showing up week after week.

They plant without tending. And nothing grows that way.

Reading Your Season

So how do you know what season you’re in?

You have to learn to read the signals.

Are strategies that used to work suddenly not working?

Is everything feeling harder than it should?

Are you planning new things when you have unfinished work that needs tending? You might be in fall wishing it were spring.

The social impact sector as a whole feels like it’s in transition right now. Rebuilding models. Facing unexpected threats. Exhausted from the fallout of the pandemic years, political turmoil, funding uncertainty. Some organizations are in winter, consolidating. Others are in fall, finally seeing planted seeds bloom. A few are in spring, making bold moves.

And many, unfortunately, are out of sync. Fighting their season, wondering why everything feels so hard.

After 15 years, I’m finally starting to see the pattern. Growth isn’t linear. It’s cyclical. And the wisdom is recognizing where you actually are, not where you wish you were.

What season is your organization in right now? And what would it look like to stop fighting it and start working with it? Drop your thoughts in the comments below.

Last week, I found myself standing in the Monterey Bay Aquarium, surrounded by sea life, champagne, and a room full of people celebrating something that feels increasingly rare this year: a massive fundraising success.

The Elkhorn Slough Foundation had just closed a $13 million capital campaign.

I was there because our team at Cosmic partnered with them on the brand, website, storytelling, and strategy that supported their work. But this wasn’t our win. It was theirs. It was the community’s. And honestly, I thought I was just showing up to be supportive, celebrate a client, and rub shoulders with some folks in the local community.

But as I stood on the outdoor deck overlooking a gorgeous fall sunset kissing the ocean and the Monterey Bay, I felt something shift.

Something I hadn’t felt in a while: hope. Maybe even optimism?

A Needed Reminder

The dominant narrative this year has been that everything’s falling apart.

Budget cuts. Burnout. Fear. Uncertainty.

For the sector. For our clients. For our team. For me.

And while some of that is absolutely real and valid, I think it’s also created a kind of collective resignation, a social impact doom loop — a belief that growth, sustainability, and long-term thinking are just unrealistic in a moment like this.

That people aren’t funding bold ideas. That we just have to buckle down and survive until… something changes.

The truth is, there’s still plenty of funding out there. A lot of people have made a lot of money in the stock market — even if it’s mostly fueled by a frothy AI bubble that feels totally disconnected from the day-to-day experience of most people.

There’s still deep motivation to support good work. People see the chaos and are compelled to do something about it. And they need a partner to help bring that change to life.

But having a worthy cause alone isn’t enough in our current media and information environment.

You need structure. You need story. You need consistency. A strong foundation. A team that can pivot and adapt without losing the plot. Steadfast leadership. Elkhorn Slough is successful because they have all of that.

Throughout the year as I’ve been talking to friends, colleagues, and even potential clients, people have asked, “How have you been handling it all? How have things been going for you?” My answer for much of the year has been, “Honestly, this year’s been a sh*tshow.”

But here’s the thing: the stories we tell ourselves shape what we see and how we see it. And the more I’ve repeated that narrative — to myself and others — the more I’ve started to believe it.

Starting today, that’s no longer my answer.

I’m done accepting that as the narrative. Or my narrative. Because as long as I keep describing this year as a sh*tshow, it’s going to keep being one. This isn’t about manifestation or magical thinking (though if that’s your thing, more power to you).

But our internal beliefs — especially our limiting beliefs — and the narratives we share and repeat greatly affect our actions and our behaviors. They affect our confidence, and they affect our ability to show up at our best. In small ways, but also in big and important ways. And right now we need social impact leaders showing up at their best.

So here’s my new answer when people ask me how things are going: “We’re making big moves, and we’re very humbled to be trusted by courageous social impact clients who are doing the same.”

This year has been a hard one. But it’s also been a year of invaluable learning, experimentation, and recommitting to our purpose and our mission. And the more I zoom out, the more I realize: it’s been a transformative year. One that’s forced us, like many of the orgs that we work with, to reckon with what truly matters, and how we show up when things are most uncertain.

Building the Future, in Real Time

Earlier this year, we made a conscious decision to move away from the traditional branding and design agency model of one-off projects. Instead, we designed and built a new model for this work we call the Social Impact Growth model. It’s an ongoing, holistic partnership with a small cohort of ambitious social impact organizations. This shift was driven by a deeper purpose and commitment to ensure that our work with our clients is not just creative, not just strategic, but truly transformational for their missions and their growth.

I have a deep yearning to see the good people doing this work build organizations and teams that are truly sustainable, balanced, healthy, properly resourced, and effective.

But I have to admit: even knowing the importance of this shift, and deeply believing in it, earlier this year, I remember thinking: “Man, I really picked the worst year possible to launch this model.”

But as the year has unfolded — and we’ve worked with our clients in this way — I realized I was wrong.

This has actually been the best year possible to launch this model, even if it hasn’t been the easiest.

Because the need has never been clearer.

This experience has doubled down my resolve that this isn’t just the future of our agency — it’s the future of what true partnerships of all types in the social impact space need to look like: built on trust, shared accountability, long-term thinking, and the courage to question the norms and best practices and beliefs around the philanthropic and social impact sector.

What We’re Learning From Our Partners

We’ve been evolving and sharpening the Social Impact Growth Model alongside our partners. And here’s what we’re seeing:

The orgs that are treating this moment as an opening — a chance to invest, align, and act with intention — are building real momentum.

They’re not paralyzed by uncertainty. They’re using it as fuel to rethink their communications, brand, and fundraising strategies holistically. They’re moving beyond the patchwork of disconnected projects and building integrated systems that grow with them.

We’ve joked for years that a big part of our job is being design therapists. We’re often the ones hearing about the challenges, the roadblocks, the politics, the burnout — the messy, behind-the-scenes sausage making of social impact work. And trust me, there’s been a lot of that this year.

But more than anything, those conversations have been what’s kept me going. Sitting in solidarity with our clients. Supporting them through the hard stuff. And feeling their support right back. That mutual trust and honesty — that’s what this work is built on.

And we believe this moment is an opportunity — a liminal, once-in-a-decade kind of window — for visionary orgs to step into a new era of social impact.

Designing Tomorrow

The Vision Window is Open...For Now

Listen to the voice memo version of this article below…

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7 months ago · 3 likes · Eric Ressler

Since that night at the aquarium, I’ve felt a real mindset shift personally. About what’s possible. About how we lead. About the kind of partners we want to be. And honestly, it was the jolt I needed.

I’ll be sharing more soon about the changing funding landscape and how to adapt to it. But I just wanted to start here:

If you’ve been feeling the weight of it all — the exhaustion, the doubt, the “what’s even the point?” — I feel you.

But I also want to remind you:
It’s not all falling apart.

There are still wins happening.
Still momentum being built.
Still communities showing up.
Still hope, if you’re willing to look for it.

And if you’re ready to build the kind of communications, brand, and activation system that can carry you into that future, I’d love to talk. Drop a comment below or shoot me a DM — or email me at eric@designbycosmic.com.

I’ve spent most of my life driven by fear.

Fear of failure. Fear of judgment. Fear of being seen as an imposter. Fear of making the wrong move. Fear of saying what I actually believe instead of what I think people want to hear. And this is just the short list.

I know I'm not special here. Most leaders I know struggle with some version of this. And to be fair, some fear is healthy. It sharpens our instincts. It keeps us from making reckless decisions. It's an evolutionary protective mechanism. I owe some of my "success" to this fear. But there’s a point where fear tips from helpful to harmful. From caution to paralysis.

As I've grown older I've found ways to tame and mask that fear, through music, through exercise, through nature, through the right types of socializing — but it's never really disappeared. It's always there, subtle but persistent, ready to reassert itself the moment I let my guard down.

And it’s only recently that I’ve realized there’s a thread, a connective tissue, that runs through every flavor of fear and anxiety I’ve experienced: it’s a fear of lacking control.

Once I saw that clearly, it reframed everything. The question shifted from “How do I avoid fear?” to “What do I do when control isn’t possible?”

This year has only brought that lesson into sharper focus.

The social impact space has been marked by real fear, uncertainty, and doubt. Shrinking budgets, funding cuts, political pressure. These are realities, not just imagined. There's the "scarcity mindset"...and then there's just true scarcity.

And because Cosmic serves this sector, those realities have been ours too. It hasn’t been a “normal” year. In many ways it’s reminded me of the early days of the pandemic: so much chaos that many leaders and organizations respond by freezing, waiting, or hunkering down. I don't say this with judgement, it's just a reflection and observation.

I’ve felt that pull myself. There have been days where the weight of it all has made me want to retreat. And there have been days where I do exactly that. But what I’ve learned (and keep learning) is that paralysis is usually just a symptom of avoidance. And avoidance is a symptom of a deeper fear.

Focus on What You Do Control

Here’s what’s helped me stay grounded: focusing on what I can actually control.

I can’t control the economy. I can’t control federal policy. I can’t control funder behavior or the latest headlines.

But I can control how I show up each day. What I give my hours and energy to. Whether I spin out in worry, or whether I focus on the highest-leverage work that makes a meaningful difference.

For us this year, that’s meant rolling out a new Case for Support offering, leaning in with flexibility and humanity with the clients we serve, and asking ourselves every day: Is this constructive? Is this work going to make a meaningful difference for our clients? Or are we just checking the boxes in our contract?

And I’ll be honest: some days I’ve failed at this. Some days I’ve spiraled into worry or wasted energy on things I couldn’t change. But coming back to this grounding question has been a lifeline. Maybe even a mantra.

"What can I control, and am I acting on it?"

The Year-End is a Mirror

So what does this mean for you, especially as we head into year-end — often the most high-stakes season in our sector?

It means resisting paralysis. It means resisting avoidance. It means doubling down on what you can control. It means making moves with conviction, courage, and good intention, even if you don’t feel 100% ready. Because doing something is almost always better than doing nothing.

If you're like me and you struggle with fear, or perfectionism, or whatever word you want to use to describe that state of mind, then take Glennon Doyle's advice and "do it scared."

Year-end is a mirror. If you’ve been consistent in your strategy, storytelling and communications, that will show. If you haven’t, year-end won’t save you — but it can still be a chance to reset. The choice is whether you act with fear, or with clarity and conviction.

Here are a few questions I’ve been asking myself that may help you too:

• What can I control? What can I not control?

• Is fear or scarcity driving this decision?

• Does it have to?

• Am I making moves with courage, integrity, and intention?

• Am I doing the best I can with the resources I have right now?

• Am I focusing on the highest leverage strategies and activities?

• Am I giving myself space to recharge and nurture my own energy?

Your answers won't be the same every day. But just like when you get distracted during meditation, or when you wander from the path, simply begin again — without judgement. Simple. Not Easy.

I also want to pause and acknowledge something real: this has been a trying season. Many of us are burnt out, overwhelmed, and overworked. But I'm not suggesting you have to do more. I'm asking you to be sure you're focusing on what’s in your control and what's possible, and giving yourself the gift of that focus. When you let go of the rest, it doesn’t just reduce stress. Done right, it can actually re‑energize you. The clarity itself gives you some energy back.

I'd Love to Hear From You

As you read this, I’d love to hear your perspective:

• What does fear — and control — look like for you and your organization right now?

• Where have you felt yourself held back by paralysis or avoidance?

• What practices or strategies are helping you move forward with conviction?

Drop a comment (or DM) and let me know. I read every response.

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Resources to Support You

If you’re looking for support in this season, here are a few resources from us at Cosmic that may help:

• Case for Support Sprint: a 6-week engagement to align your team and sharpen donor messaging ahead of year-end.

• Essay: The Vision Window is Open…For Now: on seizing the moments where bold moves matter most.

• Podcast Episode: When (and How) to Take Big Risks: on navigating fear and courage in leadership.

Listen to the voice memo version of this article below:

Recently, a prospective client asked me a simple question:

"Can a brand be ambitious?"

I love questions like this. Especially compared to the important but boring questions I often get about things like budgets and timeframes and logistics.

I paused for a moment before answering.

"I believe a brand must be ambitious. Especially in the social impact space."

For those of us working in the nonprofit and mission-driven world, our marketing and communications can’t just celebrate past wins. Sure, acknowledging successes matters, but the real magic lies in laying down an aspirational path. We need to paint a vivid and emotionally resonant story of what a better future looks like.

At the end of the day, our role is to say: "Here’s the world as it is now. But imagine if it looked more like this."

But what does ambition actually look like in practice? I think in this sector, it starts with vision.

Let’s talk about vision.

We imagine visionary leaders as these rare, almost mythical figures. People who were just born with the gift of foresight. But in my experience, that’s not the full story.

Vision doesn’t just arrive. It emerges.

From experience.
From reflection.
From truth.
From pain.
From frustration.
And sometimes, from pure defiance.

And often, it starts with a flash. That "aha" moment. That deep, gut-level knowing. That realization that says:

"Wait a minute — this isn’t right. This isn’t how things should be."

That spark of clarity is sacred. It’s often uncomfortable. It can be disruptive. But it’s also the seed of vision — a seed that must be planted and nurtured with care, respect, and yes, even devotion.

Some of the clearest visions I’ve had for my company, Cosmic, were born from moments of deep frustration — when I knew something needed to change. Not just for me, but for the company, for the work, for our clients, or even for the sector at large.

I think back to the moments where my biggest, boldest ideas started to take shape — and it was often when I was most frustrated. Frustrated at how things were, how I wanted them to change, and how the current state of things just wasn't acceptable anymore. For me, that lived, felt frustration became the seed of a new vision.

But vision doesn’t show up uninvited. It needs space.

It requires reflection. It requires time. It requires activating a different part of our brain — not the part that clears our inboxes, or joins the 7th Zoom of the day, or reviews a status report.

And here’s the catch: the very people most responsible for vision — Executive Directors, CEOs, Founders — they're are often the most overwhelmed. They're buried in operational complexity. They have no space. No stillness. And without that, vision can’t emerge.

I was talking recently with Jen Nguyen at the Stupski Foundation for an upcoming Spotlight, and she made the case beautifully: we need philanthropy to fund sabbaticals. Or even just breaks.

Because leaders need time away from the daily grind. Not just to undo burnout, but to create room for new thinking, new ideas, and new aspirations.

Vision needs the right conditions to grow. We have to intentionally create them.

And we also have to recognize the moment we’re in. Right now, I believe we’re living through a leadership void and a vision deficit in the social impact space. Now, that’s not true across the board, but it’s showing up in a lot of places. I think part of this is generational. I think part of this is the ripple effects of a long-underfunded sector. And I think part of this is our relationship with work changing rapidly (by the way, we went deep on this in our recent spotlight with Amanda Litman at Run For Something — be sure to check that one out if you missed it:

Designing Tomorrow

Amanda Litman on How Real Change Happens

Listen to the full interview below, or find it on YouTube or your Favorite Podcast App…

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7 months ago · 3 likes · Eric Ressler and Amanda Litman

We’re witnessing one of the biggest political and social transformations of our generation. Especially in the U.S., but globally too. These moments are messy, they're uncomfortable, they're sometimes even tragic. But they’re also filled with possibility.

In advocacy work there’s the idea of a "policy window"—a short window of time where you can make bold moves, if you're ready. I think there’s something similar with ambition and vision: call it a vision window.

These moments come when a new leader enters a legacy organization. Or when there’s a change in political administrations. Or when cultural shifts change public values. In these moments, the ground is fertile for ambitious leaders. But only if you act while the window is open.

I shared this idea with my friend and cohost Jonathan Hicken when he stepped in as the Executive Director at the Seymour Marine Discovery Center. I told him:

There’s a need to observe and understand first. To respect the past and learn why things are the way they are. But there's also a moment, a window, where you have to move. Where you must set a new vision and begin to execute. Because If you wait too long, the window closes. You lose potential momentum and support from the people who you need to bring along on this new journey.

There are openings for new visions, new ideas, new actions.

Again, not just ideas. Actions.

Because ambition isn’t just about a big idea. Ambition is active. It's a verb.

It’s about the commitment to see that idea through.

Think about leaders we call "visionaries" — the Steve Jobs archetype. One common trait they all share is a relentless commitment to their vision. Even in the face of doubt, opposition, skeptics, or evidence to the contrary. Jobs had his “reality distortion field.” And I’m not saying he’s a perfect model for leadership, but there’s something instructive there.

So can a brand be ambitious?

Yes, but only if that ambition is working towards a clear, compelling vision that's rooted in truth and protected with care.

So here’s my challenge to the sector:

Make space for vision.
Protect it.
Fund it.
Fight for it.

And once you’ve found it don't just talk about it. Create it.

We need your ambition now more than ever.
And we need you to be steadfast in that ambition — no matter what.

So what about you?

Where are you feeling stuck in your vision?
What’s getting in the way of bold, ambitious thinking for you right now?
Is it space? Burnout? Uncertainty? Organizational resistance?

I’d love to hear from you.
Drop your thoughts in the comments or reach out directly. Let’s talk about what it takes to unlock vision in this moment.

Listen to the audio essay:

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about truth.

Not capital-T Truth. Not facts or proof points or mis/disinformation.

I mean the kind of truth that sits below the surface.

The kind of truth that can’t be prompted into existence by an AI tool, or packaged into a slick deck by a strategist, or downloaded from a playbook.

I started thinking about this after reading a recent piece by on the increasing sameness of marketing in the age of AI. (Here’s the article if you want to read it.)

His argument goes something like this: when tools like ChatGPT are becoming the go-to solution for building strategies, and writing content, and shaping campaigns, you end up with a blend of every best practice, every hot take, and every expert tip floating around the internet. Which means you’ll probably get a solid B-minus. But the ideas are not rooted in your truth.

That’s not how you stand out. And it’s definitely not how you build a brand.

And honestly, this isn’t just about marketing. Marketing is just one place where this problem will propagate. The real conversation is about how we — as individuals, as organizations, as movements — choose to show up.

What’s your truth?

Not your slogan. Or your CTA. Not your quarterly campaign.

Your lived experience.
Your greater purpose.
The deep sense of knowing that fuels the work.

Because without that, what are we even doing here? We’re just performing.

Checking boxes. Chasing algorithms. Optimizing for engagement while forgetting about resonance.

The challenge for social impact orgs

This is especially complicated in the social impact space. We have to align with donor priorities. We have to prove our impact. We have to speak to multiple audiences with different power dynamics. We have to balance community insight with institutional expectations.

But if we lose sight of our own truth in the process — if we contort our message too far to meet someone else’s idea of what’s important — we risk erasing what’s most valuable about the work.

Lessons from the field

Lately, we’ve been in a deep partnership with the Institute for Social Transformation at UCSC that’s reminded me how important this is. Their approach to community-led research and co-creation is a powerful reminder that you can’t build meaningful solutions without lived experience at the center.

And no AI, no consultant, no philanthropist/funder — no matter how experienced, powerful, or connected — can replicate that.

How I'm thinking about this right now

So I’ve been reflecting:
What’s our truth as a brand?
As a team?
As individuals doing this work every day?

How do we make sure we’re creating from that truth and not just reacting to trends, repackaging what worked last time, or chasing someone else’s version of what success looks like?

I don’t have all the answers. But I know this:

The brands, campaigns, and organizations that resonate most — the ones that make you feel something — are the ones that speak from a deep place of knowing.

That takes reflection. Courage. A willingness to be different. To be honest.

That’s what I’m trying to do right now and how I’m trying to show up as a human being doing this work. You might’ve noticed a shift in my content. That’s not an accident.

We’ve spent years sharing tips, tricks, frameworks, and playbooks. If that’s what you’re after, you can still find a ton of it on our website — and it’s legit stuff too!

But lately, that’s not what’s driving me. And if I’m being honest, it’s not what’s lighting me up.

So that’s not what I’m publishing.

And if it means fewer clicks or lower conversion rates, so be it.

So what does this mean for you, as a social impact leader?

It means you may need to slow down before you speed up. Reconnect with the core of your work. Revisit your lived experiences. Create space for your team and your community to share theirs.

Then ask:

• What do we know to be true?

• What are we here to change?

• What would it look like to communicate from that place — every time?

In a moment of infinite content, ruthlessly — radically — creating from that truth is a massive differentiator.

Quiet clarity might just be the loudest move you can make right now.

What's your truth?

I'd love to hear from you:

What does "truth" look like for your organization right now?

How are you navigating the tension between resonance and performance?

What gets in the way of you creating from your truth in this moment?

Hit reply and let me know. (I read every response.)

More soon,
Eric

1. How and where should I show up?

2. What does real human connection look like in this shifting digital landscape?

I’ve been thinking a lot about these questions lately. This newsletter, the podcast, and our LinkedIn can sometimes feel like shouting into the void. Reach is shrinking. Algorithms reward confrontation, virality, tribalism/echo chambers... Posting can feel performative even when my intentions are authentic and virtuous.

But the thing is, I don’t think it’s just the platforms. It’s us. Our attention is stretched thin. Our patience for bland content is non-existent. We’re yearning for spaces that feel more human, not more sensational. It feels like the internet used to be closer to that experience than it is today. Is it hyper-saturation? Is it AI? Is it cultural/digital burnout?

So here’s what I’ve been landing on lately:

Publishing, even when no one’s watching, is practice.
Sitting down to write a newsletter, outline a podcast, craft a LinkedIn post, or even just commenting on someone else's post forces me to challenge my ideas and beliefs and sharpen my thinking. Publishing reveals what I actually know, and what still needs deeper clarity. Even if most of it doesn’t immediately land, it’s valuable practice.

People are migrating toward curated, cozy corners of the internet.
In media studies today, this is called the “cozy web” — small, invite-only places built for trust, and immune from algorithmic influence. Think private newsletters, community Slack or Discord servers, WhatsApp groups, etc. Spaces with fewer people but deeper engagement.

These cozy corners are digital living rooms, structured for meaningful exchange, shared values, and a kind of slow content that’s deeper and more human.

Here are some moves we're making
We recently launched a new Spotlight series as a way to lift up and celebrate social impact leaders who are skillfully navigating a new playing field with all the changes reshaping our sector. The first few conversations we’ve had have been thoughtful, candid, and energizing. They’ve far exceeded my expectations and participants have been gratuitous and generous, and thankful to have a space to surface some of their ideas and thinking they often don’t have the opportunity to.

So far, we’ve published three, and I’m really happy with them so far:

I highly recommend checking them out, and if you know a social impact leader who’s leading with confidence, grace, or innovation right now, send them our way. We’re always open to recommendations. Drop a comment below or DM me.

The most rewarding part? Co-creating content with other leaders in the space has felt way more meaningful than going at it alone. It’s one of the reasons I brought Jonathan on as a co-host for the pod — I was getting lonely and stuck doing the podcast solo. These conversations remind me that content can also be an opportunity for true connection.

Could Substack be our new cozy corner?
With all of this in mind, we’re experimenting with this Substack as a home base (yeah, I know, revolutionary!). I hope it can be a place for essays, the podcast, and the new Spotlight series, on our terms. No algorithm chasing, just intentional publishing and dialogue.

Here’s what this journey has been teaching me, and what it might mean for you, too:

Content, by itself, doesn’t equal connection. That might sound obvious, but it hits differently when you’re the one doing the publishing. I've been creating consistently in one form or another for 10+ years now.

The act of publishing itself is scary. It’s humbling. It forces me to wrestle with my own thinking. What felt clear in my head often starts to unravel when I sit down to outline an episode or write a post. That unraveling is the point. It’s where the real learning happens.

I’ve also come to believe that more content isn’t what we need. What we need are cozier digital spaces and connections. Slower, more intentional corners of the web where trust is the currency and true connection is the value. That’s what we’re trying to build with our Substack, the podcast, and especially the Spotlight series. They’re not about reach, they’re about resonance.

Has the attention economy finally peaked? Is true human connection the new (original?) currency that drives the next chapter of digital culture?

And finally, I’ve been reminded that real connection still requires a hybrid mindset. We can create deep, meaningful touchpoints online, but we shouldn’t forget the value of showing up face-to-face, when and where we can. Some of the most energizing moments I’ve had this year came from virtual and in-person meetings with clients and peers in the space. Conversations that went beyond surface-level and turned into actual relationships.

All of this is reshaping how I think about content. Less performance, more presence. Less broadcasting, more listening.

So what does this mean for your social impact org?

If you're trying to figure out how to reach and engage your audience today, consider rethinking the metrics of success. Instead of optimizing purely for reach, optimize for resonance. Instead of chasing virality, invest in building trust. Find your cozy corner and nurture it. Maybe it’s a private group, a Slack community, or a local meetup. Maybe it's a high-signal newsletter that consistently delivers real value to a smaller (but more aligned) audience.

You don’t need to be everywhere. You just need to be somewhere that feels real and human. Start there.

More importantly: I’d love to hear where you’re showing up these days. Have you found your corner of the web where people know and trust you? Want to riff on ideas, try new formats, or co-create connection?

Hit reply, let’s talk. (I personally read every response to this newsletter).

More to come,
Eric