The Question at Dawn
Doubting your impact might be the way forward.
The surfing was small and slow in Nicaragua (perfect for me), and so I had time for contemplation. We got out before dawn most mornings, and the water was so still, so serene. It slowly went from gray to pink to blue, and it was so beautiful that it hurt my eyes.
I don’t usually doubt myself in the light of the day. But these were the in-between hours, and the anxiety that often plagues me in the dark early morning hadn’t bedded down for the day just yet.
Have I done enough? Am I doing enough to protect this unspeakably beautiful planet?
These are the clichéd thoughts of a 22-year-old. And yet here I was, gently swaying on the ocean, thinking them. And I know that you, too, are at times dogged by uncertainty about whether your contribution is good enough, whether your legacy will matter. The doubt is part of the deal—for anyone who wants their life to mean something.
Both of these things are true:
The planet is unspeakably beautiful—and vulnerable.
And we can’t always tell whether our work is leaving it better than we found it.
So what’s an environmentalist who also wholeheartedly believes in the energy leadership of our industry to do?
The situation
When interesting questions dog me, I try not to think about them. I strive to let them simmer, on a back burner of my mind. I had 10 days of surfing to sort out whether I was living up to my expectations for myself, and there was no reason to rush.
I let the images bubble up of the past 20 years in particular—that period when I bucked conventional environmental wisdom and struck out into oil and gas land. I replayed memories of the attempts I’d made to serve in leadership roles with environmental NGOs, my foray into environmental permitting for oil and gas, my decision to work for the Colorado Oil and Gas Association (COGA). I relived the gut punch when my very closest friends, who came to my house to conduct an intervention of sorts after I became COGA’s president and CEO, told me in disgust that “they must be paying you a lot” to do this.
Bobbing up and down between waves, I wondered: Did I sell out? Did I take the easier path? The questions made me ache. And I resisted the temptation to recite the story I tell myself about how important my work is.
By all outside measures, I’ve never appeared more validated in my career decisions and viewpoints than I do right now. The world—including increasing numbers of climate-concerned leaders—continues to acknowledge the difficulty of the energy transition (The Myth) and the need for our industry to play a leadership role in making that transition (The Moment). So I’ve spent more than a few private sessions patting myself on the back: I showed them! Even Bill Gates would say so! But, facing this beautiful horizon and this ache in my gut … Am I being brutally honest with myself?
Years ago I decided that, when I sense an uncomfortable truth, I will walk toward it.
Even as I draft this, I don’t know where that walk ends.
What I do know
Of course I haven’t done enough. I am a selfish person with a ton of personal interests and competing commitments. I fly all over the world to have adventures. I prioritize my kids over everything. I have limited time, energy, and treasure. So, no, I haven’t done enough to prioritize and protect the wonders of nature in which I take so much solace and from which I derive so much energy.
And with the time I do devote to my work: Have I spent it well? I know that the environmental orthodoxy is deeply flawed. If I worked for Greenpeace or the Sierra Club or 350.org I would be having a full-blown midlife crisis. (Many are – and rightly so.) But that doesn’t automatically make my path more virtuous.
I do know that I love charting my own course. I love working in the awkward, liminal space between bitterly conflicting sides, where the solutions do not yet exist and the collaborations feel dangerous.
I also know that I love seeing my uncomfortable intuitions play out in the real world. I could not say why, exactly, I knew early on that the energy transition was not going to live up to The Myth that it was supposed to be easy. I at times lacked the data and the argumentative nature to be sufficiently persuasive to policymakers. And yet, time and again I have been dogged by an instinct I cannot fully articulate that turns out to be right.
I know that I enjoy being right.
I also know what I love. I love the complexity of infrastructure built in the field contrasted with the clean lines of project plans. I love a persuasive chart based on reams of impossibly complicated data. I love progress you can measure in the smallest of increments. I love difficult people with open minds and generous hearts. I love an impossible problem wrestled into an imperfect solution.
I love what I do with you: the challenging conversations that my work has opened, the projects made better by our collaborations, and the leadership solutions so many of you are providing in The Moment.
My interrogation of my own impact as I stare at the waves seems both painful and necessary. Can I make my day-to-day work better and more intentional? Together can we make our day-to-day work better and more intentional?
Seize the day
I invite you, too, to take a close look at the uncomfortable questions in your work.
What’s the question you are afraid to ask? You might as well ask it. It’s less scary if you don’t have to be right. Or solve it today.
Could you do better? Of course you could! The better question is: What does better look like? Today’s a good day to make a baby step toward it.
None of this is intrinsic to your value. The value is in the honest self-reflection—especially when you find yourself coming up short.
Happy new year.
Making the most of The Moment
Let me help you help me make more of a positive impact in the world.
Forward this email to three colleagues who are trying—imperfectly—to do enough.
Review The Myth and The Moment and help others find it!
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Enough is, perhaps, enough,
Tisha
