When You Say No With Kindness, You Create Space for Better Things

One of the more surprising things people learn about me when they interview me is how often I say no.

That sounds strange coming from an entrepreneur.

Aren’t entrepreneurs supposed to say yes? Yes to opportunities. Yes to growth. Yes to networking. Yes to hustle. Yes to every customer, every invitation, every possibility.

But working for myself has taught me something different.


Balance doesn’t happen by accident.

When you work for yourself, every yes costs something. Usually time. Often energy. Sometimes peace.

So I say no to a lot of things.

Not because I’m lazy. Not because I’m ungrateful. Not because I don’t care.

I say no because every no creates space to fill with something better.

That “better” isn’t always productive. Sometimes it’s just life.

A movie with my husband.

An evening knitting.

A nice dinner.

A quiet afternoon.

Space to think.

Space to create.

Space to enjoy the business I worked so hard to build.

The point of working for myself wasn’t to become unavailable to myself.

That philosophy shows up in my work in practical ways.

There are things that need to happen to keep the business running that I simply don’t enjoy doing. So I hire people.

Delegation isn’t failure. It’s design.

Housekeeping? I hate dusting. So I pay someone else to do it.

That purchase isn’t about avoiding responsibility—it’s buying back time.

Time I can spend writing.

Time I can spend learning.

Time I can spend with people I love.

The same principle applies to opportunities.

People occasionally ask me to travel for speaking engagements.

Years ago, I might have automatically said yes.

Now?

If you want me to travel, you either need to compensate me enough that the tradeoff makes sense—or be located somewhere I’d genuinely enjoy visiting.  Ideally? Both. 

Travel isn’t just two hours of speaking. It’s preparation, airports, hotels, transit, recovery time, and days away from my family.

That’s a high price.

But technology gives us options. Want me to do a live Q&A? Great. Let’s do Zoom. One hour of meaningful interaction instead of several days lost to logistics.

That’s not saying no to people. That’s saying yes to a different way of working.

I use the same approach with my daily to-do list.

If I don’t want to do something—or don’t realistically have time to do it—I move it to another day.

People sometimes call that procrastination. I call it scheduling.

Because something interesting happens when you put things off, intentionally.

A surprising number of things never actually needed doing.

Other things turn out to matter and rise naturally to the top.

Deferring isn’t always avoidance. Sometimes it’s clarification.

You discover what’s essential by giving yourself permission not to do everything immediately.

Saying no with kindness isn’t about becoming closed off.

It’s about becoming intentional.

It’s recognizing that your calendar is a reflection of your values.

And if you fill every available space with obligations, there’s no room left for joy.

No room for relationships.

No room for curiosity.

No room for the things that make all the work worth doing.

Your life is finite.

Your time is finite.

Your energy is finite.

Spend them on purpose.

Say no kindly. Then fill that space with something better.

Evolution Doesn’t Plan—And Neither Should Learning

I was volunteering at the zoo recently and ended up having one of my favorite kinds of conversations—the kind where someone asks a question that seems simple but opens the door to something bigger.

We were talking about convergent evolution and mangabeys.

Mangabeys are a group of monkeys that scientists originally thought all belonged together because they look remarkably similar. Same general body shape. Similar lifestyles. Similar features.


Makes sense, right? Except… later genetic research showed something surprising. Not all mangabeys are actually each other’s closest relatives. 

Some mangabeys are more closely related to mandrills. Those in blue. 

Others are more closely related to baboons Those in orange and green. What is even crazier is that the one in green is more closely related to baboons than to the ones in orange.  Our species at the Chattanooga Zoo is the Black Crested Mangabey. 

Scientists originally grouped them together because, based on what they could observe, it seemed obvious. And then they learned more. Turns out different evolutionary branches arrived at similar solutions.

Why?

Because that body shape works really well for the ecological niche they occupy. Different animals evolving stumbled into that shape and form and teeth and enzyme creating saliva more than once.

That’s convergent evolution.

Once you start noticing it, you see it everywhere.

One of my favorite examples is the Tasmanian tiger. Despite the name, it wasn’t a tiger. It wasn’t even a cat. It was a marsupial.

But it evolved a body plan that looked remarkably similar to placental predators because those features worked for the job.

Different starting points. Similar destination.

The Big Question About Evolution

At that point in the conversation, one of the parents asked me a question I hear a lot: “But how do animals know how to change?”

And I love that question. Because the answer is simple and profound. They don’t. What they do is survive. 

Evolution doesn’t have goals. Animals don’t decide to grow longer legs or sharper teeth. Nothing is planning ahead.  They just survive. 

Every generation's DNA contains variation. Mutations happen naturally. Some help. Some hurt. Most don’t matter much.

If a variation helps an individual survive long enough to reproduce, it has a better chance of showing up in the next generation. If it doesn’t, it tends to disappear.

No intention.

No foresight.

Just survival. 

Given enough time and changing conditions, those that survive, may change into different shapes. Sometimes those shapes converge, like mangabeys. 

Sometimes those shapes diverge.  Like camelids in North America. When the ice age happened it disrupted the climate. Some camelids migrated to Asia to survive and evolved into modern camels. Others headed south and evolved into alpacas and llamas. The ones that stayed in North America - didn't survive and went extinct because of the changing climate. This is why even though this family of animals evolved on the North American continent for 10s of millions of years (there were tall giraffe types, and smaller types and giant ones), we have no camelids in North America anymore. Most didn't survive climate change. 



The Joy of Learning

What struck me afterward wasn’t just how interested this family was in the evolutionary biology which is super cool. It was the question I got after explaining how cool mangabeys are and the craziness of their convergent evolution.  

How do animals KNOW how to evolve. What shape will work for them? 

Because that question—that willingness to say “Wait… how does that actually work?”—is something I deeply admire.

That father could have nodded politely and moved on. Instead, he got curious. And curiosity changes everything.

Humanism, to me, starts there. With the recognition that the world is under no obligation to match our assumptions.

Sometimes what looks obvious turns out not to be true. Scientists thought mangabeys were all one close family. They asked more questions and learned otherwise.  And what they learned was even more amazing than their predecessors could have imagined. 

I’ve been interpreting for our black crested mangabeys for a year. I only learned their evolution recently. I volunteer at the zoo all the time and I still discover things I didn’t know.

That’s not failure. That’s the joy of learning.

The world is full of things we think we understand. Until we ask one more question. 

So stay curious.

Ask the question.

Be willing to discover you were wrong.

Be excited when reality turns out to be more interesting than you expected.

Because learning isn’t evidence that you didn’t know enough before. Learning is evidence that you’re paying attention. And that, to me, is one of the best parts of being human.

Beyond “I Love You”: Practicing All Forms of Love in Relationships and Life

 When most people think of love, they immediately think of eros—passionate, romantic love. And yes, eros is wonderful. It makes our hearts race, our palms sweat, and our Netflix nights feel electric. But here’s the truth: eros alone is not enough. Relying solely on eros can make relationships transactional—because desire can be conditional, fleeting, or tied to “what you do for me.”

Love is far richer than just eros. Philosophers and psychologists have identified many types:

  • Philia: deep friendship and companionship
  • Storge: familial, nurturing love
  • Agape: unconditional, selfless love
  • Fraternity: loyalty and camaraderie
  • Ludus: playful, flirtatious love
  • Pragma: practical, long-term love
  • Self-love: recognizing your own worth and boundaries


A thriving relationship isn’t just built on one kind of love—it’s the combination of them all. Think of it as a recipe: too much eros without philia, storge, or agape, and your relationship is sweet but unstable. Too much pragmatism without playfulness, and you risk feeling like roommates rather than lovers.

Someone once asked me, “What’s a way to show your spouse you love them without saying the words, ‘I love you’?”

My answer: I want to be kissed on the neck—and then have him walk away. No words, no ulterior motive. Just a playful, spontaneous gesture. It’s eros, it’s agape, it’s philia—all wrapped into one moment. It says, “I love you—not because I expect anything, but just because.”

If you want to be a good spouse, practice all forms of love with your partner. Play. Care. Support. Nurture. Be loyal. Be practical. And don’t forget to love yourself along the way. Relationships thrive when love is multi-dimensional—and when it’s shared freely, without expectation, and with a dash of playful mischief.

Practicing all forms of love isn’t just good for relationships—it’s central to humanism itself. Humanism reminds us to love everyone, including ourselves, even in difficult moments. While eros—the romantic, passionate spark—may not always fit into this framework, the other forms of love—philia, storge, agape, fraternity, ludus, pragma, and self-love—are deeply aligned with humanist practice. By nurturing friendship, compassion, loyalty, playfulness, practicality, and self-respect, we cultivate a worldview grounded in empathy, mutual care, and the belief that all humans deserve dignity. Just as a thriving relationship depends on the richness of diverse love, humanism flourishes when love in all its forms guides our actions toward ourselves and others.

Late Stage Capitalism, Extinction Bursts, and What Comes Next

Everywhere online, people are declaring that we are living through “late-stage capitalism.” Usually, what they mean is simple: things feel unstable, exploitative, unequal, and increasingly absurd.

They’re not wrong. Societies unstable, business is exploitative, income inequality is bad, and politicians are doing increasingly absurd things.  

But I think many people misunderstand what “late stage capitalism” actually means — especially if we look at capitalism through the lens of Das Kapital and modern behavioral science.

image of a person walking out of a hell scape through a door into a more hopeful future.

Ironically, what we are experiencing may not be the end of capitalism, but rather one of the predictable crisis points in its evolution.

And understanding that matters because panic rarely helps societies evolve wisely.

Marx Wasn’t Predicting Stability

One thing Marx understood correctly is that capitalism is not a stable system. It expands, concentrates wealth, generates inequality, experiences crisis, adapts, and then expands again.

The boom-and-bust cycle is not a bug in the system. It simply is something that is predicted to happen from time to time as capitalist systems grow, evolve and adapt. 

Over time, capital tends to become concentrated. Wealth and power becomes concentrated too because large concentrations of capital can outcompete smaller ones. But eventually that concentration creates instability:

  • consumers lose purchasing power,
  • workers lose security,
  • institutions lose legitimacy,
  • and economic shocks become larger and more widespread.

At that point, correction becomes unavoidable.

Historically, those corrections are painful:

  • unemployment,
  • market collapses,
  • political unrest,
  • social anxiety,
  • institutional distrust.

But history also shows something else: societies often emerge from these crises with reforms that improve life for large numbers of people.

The Great Depression helped produce Social Security, banking reforms, labor protections, and stronger safety nets. The 2008 Financial Crisis triggered major conversations about financial regulation, inequality, healthcare access, and economic precarity.

Progress rarely happens because systems voluntarily surrender power during times of comfort. More often, systems change because instability forces adaptation.

The Extinction Burst

This is where behavioral psychology provides an interesting lens.

In behavioral science, there is something called an extinction burst. When a behavior that used to work stops producing the desired result, the organism often responds by intensifying the behavior before finally changing course.

A child screams louder before giving up a tantrum.
A gambler doubles down after losses.
A toxic workplace becomes more controlling when employees begin resisting.

Systems do this too.

When capitalism encounters instability, it often intensifies its own core behaviors:

  • more extraction,
  • more monetization,
  • more consolidation,
  • more financialization,
  • more pressure for growth,
  • more concentration of wealth.

This can feel terrifying when you’re living through it. And understandably so.

But intensification is not always evidence that a system is permanently winning. Sometimes it is evidence that the system is struggling to maintain equilibrium.

That does not mean collapse is guaranteed.
It does not mean utopia is guaranteed either.

It means we are living through a period of pressure and adaptation.

Is it Really Late Stage Capitalism?

It is worth noting that what many people online call “late-stage capitalism” is not what Das Kapital actually predicts. Marx did not argue that capitalism would simply become miserable and then suddenly collapse. He believed capitalism would continue evolving by increasingly socializing production itself — creating vast interconnected systems where labor becomes more collective, coordinated, and interdependent over time. 

In Marx’s framework, the truly “late” stage would likely involve much broader forms of communal or worker ownership of the means of production than we currently see. Interestingly, we are beginning to see early versions of this emerge through employee-owned companies, cooperatives, profit-sharing models, open-source collaboration, and highly networked forms of collective production. But these models are still relatively limited within a system where ownership remains heavily concentrated with individuals. 

In other words, if Marx’s model is even partially correct, and so far everything he predicted would occur has, we may still have significant instability and painful corrections ahead before a more genuinely communalistic economic structure becomes dominant.

Stay Calm — But Prepare

I suspect another correction is coming.

Not because I think civilization is ending, but because concentrated systems eventually destabilize themselves. Historically, they always have.

The important question is not whether change is coming.

The important question is:
What kind of change will follow?

History shows that crises can produce remarkable human progress:

  • stronger protections for workers,
  • better public health systems,
  • more democratic participation,
  • broader access to education,
  • expanded civil rights,
  • stronger social safety nets.

But crises can also produce fear, scapegoating, authoritarianism, and cruelty.

That is why preparation matters.

Not panic.
Preparation.

We need emotionally resilient people who can think clearly during instability.
We need communities that cooperate instead of fracture.
We need leaders capable of long-term thinking rather than reactive fear.
And we need humanistic values guiding what comes next.

Because economic systems are not forces of nature. They are human creations. They evolve according to the incentives, behaviors, and values we reinforce.

If a correction is coming, then this is not the time to surrender to doomscrolling and despair.

It is the time to ask:

  • What systems actually help people thrive?
  • What structures reduce unnecessary suffering?
  • How do we preserve freedom while increasing stability?
  • How do we ensure technological and economic progress benefits humanity broadly instead of concentrating into fewer and fewer hands?

Those are the real questions of the future.

What Comes Next Is Not Automatic

One of the biggest misunderstandings people have about history is believing that progress is inevitable.

It isn’t.

Progress requires participation.

Every major improvement in human society came from people who chose to build better systems after periods of instability:

  • labor organizers,
  • reformers,
  • educators,
  • scientists,
  • policymakers,
  • community leaders,
  • ordinary people trying to solve practical problems compassionately.

The future is not predetermined.

But history suggests that periods of instability often become turning points. They force societies to reconsider what is sustainable and what is not.

So yes — stay calm.

But prepare.

Because corrections create openings.
And what fills those openings depends on us.

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