Think of a favorite film, one you saw at the theater. Chances are, this exercise will evoke some vivid memories. Now think about the last movie you saw using a streaming service. While you may have enjoyed the movie, your recall of the experience won’t be the same. The details are fuzzier. The emotional recall just isn’t there.

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Turns out there’s a science that explains why seeing a movie in a theater is so much more impactful than watching one at home. And, like always, it holds a lesson for nonprofits. Most organizations don’t lose donors because people stopped caring; they lose them because the experience feels transactional, confusing or forgettable.

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So, here’s what is playing out when we go to the theater, and how that can inform improvements in donor experience, stewardship and revenue.

New York is a moody city, and by that I don’t mean perpetually grumpy. The mood swings are largely driven by the economy and can last for years. When things are up, there’s an extra rush of energy and you feel part of the momentum. And then comes some disturbance, a recession or act of war, leaving you riddled with anxiety about your future. World events have an outsized impact and feel close to home. 

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Living there through both extremes, I came to notice how people respond to them. In exuberant times, optimism can lead to excess. During more difficult times, there’s a tendency to recede and look inward.

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That’s the way things feel now, not just in New York City, but everywhere. The mood swings have become more palpable and intense. For many of the causes we support, confidence, security and optimism are memories. Yet, even in adversity, there is opportunity. Foundations and nonprofits can use this time to strengthen their work, their reputation and their fortitude.

Turning complex social challenges into solvable behaviors

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One of my oldest friends called early Saturday morning: “Are you up?”

“I’ve been up. What’s going on?”

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“I’ve just dropped your goddaughter off at detention for using AI on a paper. I’m reliving The Breakfast Club.”

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That dose of nostalgia got me thinking about my own high school days, transgressions and punishments. I went to a large high school in the late 80s, and like the movies of that era, there were distinct cliques: jocks, preps, brains, rednecks and band kids. As for transgressions, mine were relatively innocuous and forgettable, but one punishment stands out.

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No driving privileges for a week.

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That wasn’t such a big deal until one day I forgot to arrange a ride home. That meant taking the bus. The kids on the bus were a tough crowd, and the likelihood of catching some grief was high. My strategy was simple: find the first open seat and bury my nose in a book.

Maintenance is my hobby. It’s taken nearly all my free time. For the house, it’s cleaning, pressure washing, window washing, painting and clearing gutters. The yard’s list is even more ambitious. 

There’s just nothing better than having everything ship-shape – until the dog tracks in mulch or there’s a thunderstorm that litters debris across the lawn. I suppose that’s why so many people have a laissez-faire attitude about upkeep. And that’s a far saner approach to life, until you want to sell your house, host a party, or, in my case, just want to admire the fruits of your labor.

Most cause organizations I see fall into this camp in two ways:

1. They are laissez-faire about maintaining their appearance (communications)  

2. It’s time for them to sell (attract donors and grants)

I believe that this inattention to communications stems from a place of good intentions. There’s not necessarily time to be house proud when your work is critical, sometimes even lifesaving. I’ve served on enough boards where “branding” and “low awareness” come up regularly, but wishing for these things never seems to be accompanied by resources. Like deferred maintenance, the needs compound over time.

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I haven’t seen times this difficult for nonprofits and foundations since 2008. Clarity has never been more critical in both fundraising and grant writing. Unfortunately, it’s time to sell and so many organizations lack curb appeal.

Now, let’s examine what to do about it.

We’ve lost something. Many think it’s certainty. But has there ever really been any of that? I think what we’ve lost is optimism.

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When one thing after another seems to go wrong, our mindset shifts, leading to a contagion of negativity. My colleagues and I call this the can’t, won’t don’t effect. And to move past it, we need to know what’s going on in our heads.

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After repeated disappointments, we stop trying new approaches, delay decisions and lower expectations. Reduced efforts lead to reduced results, causing us to believe future efforts are in vain. Adding to this is a tendency to interpret losses as permanent. As a result, we invest less in change, making our strategies defensive rather than aspirational.

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Here's how to counteract these natural but self-defeating biases.

It’s not just odd when the tables are turned, it’s uncomfortable. Instead of being the consultant, I was the client, and my first step in getting some executive coaching was a personality test. I’ve done most of them, but this test was next level. Hundreds of questions followed by an extremely detailed analysis. That hard of a stare in the mirror can be tough, and I had to remind myself that we all have good and not so good traits.

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My shortcomings were laid bare. But there was a bright spot amidst them. Where I blew the test out of the water was in empathy. I’ve always been interested in why other people think or act the way they do. But despite my 98-percentile empathy score, objectivity is getting more difficult now.

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Issues that were once broadly supported, such as public health, education access, poverty alleviation, disability services and environmental protection, have been pulled into ideological battles. Many nonprofits have become casualties in culture wars they didn’t start.

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Unfortunately, we can’t resolve our country’s conflict overnight. But here are three simple steps nonprofits can take toward finding consensus and building momentum along the way.

What do you remember most about the Great Recession? For me, the first thing that comes to mind is painting. It’s impossible to worry and paint at the same time, and that’s what got me through the financial crisis.
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That crisis brought huge changes along with it, and some were horrible. In other ways, it provided a reset. In my case, painting became essential, so much so that I eventually rented a studio I shared with six friends. It’s continued to be my haven from all manner of storms, including the recent ones facing the nonprofit community I serve.
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Yet even havens aren’t immune from storms. Our studio building was sold, and the new lease terms were so egregious that we had to move. Change is relentless. And we generally fight and struggle against it. My group was no exception.
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I understand that the travails of seven artists are trivial compared to the existential threats facing many organizations. But the less dire circumstances allow us an easier look at how we face change, and how we might better cope with it. Here are three stops on a journey that was far more painful than it should have been.

It was New Year’s Day, 2006. I knew that I wanted to make the move from renter to homeowner, but I wasn’t quite ready. Still, I put the top down, whistled for the dog to hop in the car and drove off to explore different parts of town. I was just going to get a feel for pricing.

I spent the afternoon driving through one neighborhood after another looking at houses. It’s funny what goes through your mind during an exercise like this. Too big. Too ugly. Needs too much work. Who would choose that paint color? There was nothing to get excited about. Good.

Hours later, just as it was time to head home, I came to a four-way stop and spotted a discreet “for sale by owner” sign. Pulling in front of the house, I said aloud: “Well, this is it.”

Enter panicked inner monologue: “What am I thinking?” “I have absolutely no business buying anything that costs this much.” “Starting today, I will only eat ramen.”

Anxiety accompanies decisions; it also delays them. For many, 2025 was (understandably) a year of hesitation. So, let’s do something different. Let’s begin 2026 by considering what prompts decision-making, because progress demands it.

Behavioral science tells us that big decisions rarely hinge on logic alone. In fact, the larger the decision, the more likely it is that subconscious forces are doing the heavy lifting. Here are four principles that often determine when deliberation gives way to action.

I was almost to Union Square when it suddenly got quiet. It had only been two years since 9/11, so my thoughts turned to terrorism. Then came the radios. Taxis turned theirs up and opened their windows and doors so pedestrians could lean in and listen. It was New York City’s 2003 blackout, and all I wanted was to get back to my apartment where things felt safe.

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All these years later, my memories of that afternoon remain vivid. Psychologists call these flashbulb memories, moments where we remember not only what happened, but also how we felt. They stick because of context. Who we were with. The weather. The conversation.

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Most of us won’t remember 2025 fondly, at least as it pertains to our work. I’ve watched countless fundraising campaigns launch this year. Meanwhile, there has been record turnover among development officers. As  such, the need to nurture donor relationships has never been greater, making memorable interactions essential. If your fundraising efforts are feeling like hindsight in the making, here are a few things to keep in mind as you look ahead to next year.

My job is to study people, specifically what motivates the decisions they make. I started when I was about seven years old in the TV room. Shows like Three’s Company, I Love Lucy, and The Odd Couple were built entirely on misunderstandings. Someone overheard half a conversation, misread a situation, or jumped to a conclusion. A single wrong assumption would spiral into a comedy of errors. Most importantly, the audience always knew the truth, which made watching the confusion unfold even funnier. Back then, misunderstandings made for great television.

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Today, misinformation is a different story. Behavioral science helps explain why misinformation spreads so easily and why it’s so hard to correct. For nonprofits and foundations, this dynamic poses a real challenge: how to communicate truth in a way that cuts through noise, earns trust, and doesn’t get lost in the scroll. So here are three ways to respond.