Piya Saliba, CEO of Fountain Capital and a dedicated philanthropist involved with the Nalin and Naseeb Foundation and the Cedars-Sinai NICU Parent Council, has developed a set of questions she asks before taking on any new commitment. In a world where well-meaning individuals often say yes based on momentary emotion, Saliba argues that a more disciplined approach is necessary. Her framework challenges the common impulse to judge a cause solely by its worthiness, emphasizing instead the importance of personal fit and sustainability.
Saliba’s first question is deceptively simple: what do I actually bring? She contends that most people ask whether a cause matters, but that is rarely the real question. “Almost every cause matters,” she says. “The real question is whether you are the right person to help it, right now.” To answer that, she suggests identifying your specific contribution—time, money, a skill, a network, or a story. Caring alone, she notes, gets you in the door but does not tell you what to do once inside. Her own background, split between Indonesia and Singapore and exposed to both a family furniture business and the arts, taught her that naming your value clearly is more useful than general enthusiasm.
The second question addresses cost and where it will be felt. Saliba points out that the cost that trips people up is rarely money; it is attention. “You can budget money,” she says. “You cannot budget attention the same way. It leaks out of whatever you are not looking at.” She advises asking which part of life will quietly shrink to make room for a new commitment—sleep, a hobby, time with family, or a slower version of work. Naming the cost in advance does not remove it, but it prevents it from arriving as a surprise six months later.
The third question is whether the commitment fits what you already know. Saliba’s own involvements track closely to her lived experience. Her work with the Cedars-Sinai NICU Parent Council draws on her personal experience with families in vulnerable moments, and her involvement with the Nalin and Naseeb Foundation reflects causes close to her. “I did not pick these because they were the biggest need out there,” she says. “I picked them because I had something specific to offer, based on what I had already lived through or already knew.” This question, she argues, filters out well-meaning but poorly matched commitments, where personal history and present need do not line up.
Finally, Saliba asks the plainest question: can I keep showing up? Not just today, but in a year. Nonprofits rely on people who stay, and a one-time burst of energy helps less than steady, smaller involvement over time. “Consistency is its own form of respect,” she says. “It tells the people and the cause that you meant it.” She would rather commit to less and sustain it than take on more and quietly fade out. Even in her own life, she balances work and volunteer commitments with singing, acting, and dance, seeing that balance as a daily version of the same question: what can I actually sustain, and where does it belong?
Saliba’s approach matters because it offers a counterweight to impulsive philanthropy and volunteerism. By focusing on personal fit, attention costs, relevant experience, and long-term sustainability, she provides a practical filter that can lead to more effective and fulfilling contributions. In a landscape where many causes compete for limited time and resources, her questions help individuals align their commitments with their capacity, ultimately strengthening the organizations they choose to support.
