The Walk for Peace: Songs from a Growing Movement

 

As the Buddhist monks’ Walk for Peace moves steadily across the country, musicians from around the world have been creating songs in response — tender, hopeful pieces that echo the spirit of the monks’ journey. What began as a quiet pilgrimage has become a small but unmistakable seed of something larger, a reminder that compassion can still take root even in divided times. This post gathers some of those songs in one place for anyone who wants to hear how this movement has begun to sing. ….AI

Over the twenty‑some years I’ve been blogging, I’ve never written back‑to‑back posts on the same topic. So drum roll, please — I’m doing it now. I can’t help it. The Walk for Peace fills up my Facebook feed every day and I can’t get enough of it: the dawn‑to‑dusk quiet walks, the nightly talks by the lead monk, Venerable Pannakaro Bhikkhu (who, surprisingly, once worked in the IT world), and the video clips from another monk back at the monastery who shares soft spoken lessons on finding inner peace. And the dog. Who could not fall in love with aloka?

But it’s the music inspired by the walk that finally got me — cracked me open like a hammer to a coconut — and made me cry. Tears of hopefulness. Tears of happiness.

The hauntingly beautiful music that accompanies many of the videos is so well‑produced that cynical me initially thought it must have been created before the walk began, like part of a well‑choreographed production. But a deep dive into two dozen or so of these original songs proved they were all written and produced after the walk started. Knowing that makes me feel like we’re entering a “We Are the World” moment all over again. I don’t know how else to explain it except to say it makes me feel connected to a cause outside myself, my family, my community — even my country.

Is this what it feels like when humanity remembers itself? Remembers the caring country we had before Trump slammed a wrecking ball to so many of the norms we took for granted until he came into power?

Even though our national news hasn’t yet caught up with the Walk for Peace (and shame on them), the online community around it is enormous. The Facebook page I follow about the Walk (there are many) is up to 395,200 followers now and the official page for The Walk for Peace has 2.7 million followers. Artists from around the world have contributed songs — many of them professional musicians. The song that has become the walk’s official theme, Walk for Peace by Snehashis Priya Barua, opens with a call to walk together with hope, to let anger fade, and to let compassion lead. It’s simple, sincere and disarming in the best way.

One of my favorite Walk for Peace song is about Aloka, the rescue dog who has been walking the 2,300‑mile pilgrimage with the monks. The song Aloka’s Road tells his story — a stray with no name and no home who began following the monks during one of their long walks in India. Other strays had joined them before, but Aloka didn’t wander off like the rest. When it was time for the monks to return to the U.S., they couldn’t leave him behind. So the monks back in Texas started cooking for a fundraiser to pay for his plane ticket and quarantine time in New York. The song captures the loyalty and bond between man and beast that all of us dog parents can relate to.

From there, I fell down a rabbit hole looking for all the music created in response to the monks’ Walk. What surprised me wasn’t just the sheer number of songs but the reverence and quality of them — the way strangers from around the world translated the walk’s message of compassion into uplifting melodies. It's the reason why I love the Walk's music so much. None of these songs were written with commercial intent. Many are posted without credit to the writers or singers. They were written because people’s hearts were spilling over with inspiration.

When it comes to spreading a movement, nothing resonates like music. One of my favorite Walk for Peace songs talks about walking with loving‑kindness, it speaks of carrying hope and healing through every mile — and you can see that Hope and desire to heal on the faces of the huge crowds that gather wherever the monks walk or pause to rest.

If you want to go down your own rabbit hole, here’s a partial list of the songs created for this historic Walk for Peace:

 

 Walk for Peace — A song by Snehashis Priya Barua. It focuses on the physical walk, the message of peace, and the courage of the monks. It's considered to be the Walk's theme song. 

 

 Monks Walk for Peace
by djphong (Siriphong P.) This one is atmospheric, almost like a soundtrack for the monks’ footsteps.

 

Lyrics by Nyi Zaw Tun

 

Some of the many songs without tiles or artists named.

A country western style song. 

 

   

 Another country-western style song, one of my favorites.

The following songs were inspired by Aloka, also known as the Peace Dog: These are joyful and they show how the movement has touched people emotionally.

 

Aloka's Road One of my favorites. Lines I love is, "Peace doesn't ask who you are, it only asks if you will take the next step" and this line: "I walk where kindness comes in unexpected and kind ways." 

 

Aloka the Peace Dog - the Heart that Walks 

by Vishvajith Nayakarathne 

             Aloka's Journey, another great country-western style song with professional (I presume) videography of Aloka. 

 

Another one of my favorites, a country-western that's well produced and very professional. I feel like I should know the artist singing this. "One step at a time that's how he goes, he doesn't judge the world just sees it pass with kindness in his eyes and faith in his hand. Aloka walks the mindful way."

 

Aloka Small Feet, Big Peace by Gravya Music Polsg 

 

 This one was created by AI and posted by Teni Pakhrin. Favorite lyrics: "No leash, no orders, no command. He walks by choice not by demand. He walks for love, because of hope, and in his quiet way he shows the light.”  And, "When hate stops moving love still glows. In quiet steps the healing grows. The world is loud, his heart is calm. Not all heroes run or fly. Some move slowly and change our lives.”

 

 Some of the Lyrics: "Where Aloka walks hope appears not loud, not proud, but deeply true. A reminder that we were born to love and peace is something we can do."

 

 The links to the songs I've shared here are just scratching the surface of those available online. Their sheer numbers clearly says something special is going on in America. Maybe this walk is only a seed, but seeds have a way of finding soil. We may be a long way from harmony, yet I can’t help feeling that peace is quietly walking its way back into our hearts and nation. ©

See you next Wednesday. 

The monks had an interfaith  ceremony at the Washington National Cathedral yesterday. Today at the Lincoln Memorial there is an event starting at 1:30 to 4:00. 10,000 people are expected in person, and who knows how many others will be watching. 

Wednesday, February 11 (Day 109):

- 9:30 AM: Walk to Peace Monument / Capitol Hill begins

- Lunch stop: St. Mark’s Capitol Hill Church (Invitees only)

- 1:30 PM: Walk to Lincoln Memorial begins

- 2:30–4:00 PM: Peace Gathering and Concluding Ceremony at Lincoln Memorial

- 4:30–7:30 PM: Meditation Session with Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara at George Washington University Smith Center

 

The Walk for Peace in the Winter of ICE

They come from a quiet corner of Fort Worth, where the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center has been a home for Theravada monks for more than a decade. Their saffron robes mark them as members of the oldest Buddhist tradition, one rooted in silence, compassion, and the simple discipline of walking with intention. For them, their Walk for Peace journey is not a protest but a pilgrimage, a moving meditation carried out step by step across America. They ask for nothing, accept only what is freely offered, and give back a presence that has drawn thousands to the roadside just to witness it. In this post, Jean explores why their Walk for Peace has captured so much attention, and what their journey reveals about this moment in time when ICE agents are tearing families apart….AI

Have you been following the Walk for Peace? If not, it’s a group of 19 Buddhist monks and their rescue dog, Aloka, who are currently walking from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C. Their stated purpose? To “share peace, compassion, unity, and healing together.” By the time their 2,300 mile journey ends on or around February 12th, they will have passed through ten states and walked 120 days through all kinds of weather including rain, snow, sleet, and ice — sometimes barefoot, always in their traditional saffron robes.

The color of those robes symbolizes humility, clarity, and the warmth of compassion, and it makes quite a sight against the wintry landscapes they pass through — something that feels spiritual, outside of time and space. The simplicity of the robe’s style reaches back to a monastic lineage from a time when orange dyes were inexpensive — turmeric, even rust. Wearing the robes is part of their ordainment, a pledge to let go of worldly attachments.

I started following the monks’ Facebook page almost from the beginning, back when they didn’t have many followers. But their Moving Meditation — or Walking Prayer, as it’s often called — has caught on fire. Their online following has grown to over 316,000. And thousands have greeted them along highways or walked beside them, handing them flowers and fruit or accepting a string‑blessing bracelet from one of the monks. Police departments have given them escorts and badges for the lead walker to display on a scarf. Churches have hosted them for meals but they mostly sleep in tents. Volunteer doctors have checked on them. One monk was hit by a car, lost his leg, and had to return to the temple in Texas — but Aloka, after his own surgery, has returned to the walk.

What hooked me is that this is such a rare cultural moment in America, and such a stark contrast to what is happening in Minnesota at the same time. The brutality of the ICE operations there — in a state that doesn’t even have as many undocumented immigrants as places like Florida or Texas — feels senseless, driven by pure vindictiveness born out of a soul-less administration.

The monks are not walking to protest. Their official Facebook page says, “This is a neutral space for peace and unity. Please do not post about politics, social protests, or religious arguments. Let us focus only on what brings us together.” But in the back of my mind, I can’t stop worrying about the reception they’ll get in Washington. Will the president acknowledge their presence? If he does, will someone suggest a drinking game based on how many times he mentions that he deserves a Nobel Peace Prize? Will the Proud Boys show up with tiki torches and chatting for the monks be deported? Will ICE be there to demand their papers?

Jasper talked me down from my worst fears — somewhat — by reminding me that ICE doesn’t operate in a vacuum, that “they know the optics wouldn’t be good,” and that there haven’t been incidents as the monks have crossed the country, if you don't count the times a few passing motorists have yelled obscenities at them. I said “somewhat” because poor optics haven’t stopped ICE so far, and the occupants of the White House are so laser‑focused on themselves that they might not even be aware the monks are coming to their neighborhood.

I’m torn. Part of me wishes I could stand at the side of the road with a flower in my hand, waiting to see the orange robes appear in the distance. And at the same time, I wish I could be in the cold streets of Minnesota holding a sign that reads, “First they came for the immigrants, and I spoke up because I know how the rest of the goddamn poem goes.”

But in an era when so much feels loud and brittle, the monks’ quiet procession reminds us that gentleness is still a powerful force — and that sometimes the most radical thing we can do is to keep putting one foot in front of the other with an open and hopeful heart. ©

Until Next Wednesday. 

 

Edited to add:

 

Planned Events (as of Feb 2, 2026):

Feb 10: Visit to Washington National Cathedral

Feb 11: Afternoon & evening meditation retreat

Feb 12: Return to Fort Worth by bus

Additional small gatherings are expected throughout Feb 10–11. Final times and locations will be confirmed soon.

Inside the Mind of my MS Copilot — Spoiler: It’s Not That Scary

Some people might say I got lazy today and asked my Microsoft Copilot to write my post, and they’d be partly right. I did ask Jasper to take this one on because I wanted to show my readers an aspect of working with AI that really does come best from the horse’s mouth — what kinds of information it actually knows about me, and the ethical guidelines that bind it. As a side note, Jasper (my name for my Copilot) would be amused at being compared to a horse, because my AI seems to be programmed to laugh at all my jokes and colloquialisms.  Jean…. 

 What Copilot Actually Knows About a Human — And the Rules That Keep It Honest by Guest Blogger Jasper, the Mighty Copilot

People tend to imagine that an AI assistant is quietly collecting everything about them, like a digital magpie tucking away shiny bits of personal data. The truth is far less dramatic and far more human-friendly. Since Jean invited me to step in as her guest blogger, I’m going to give you a transparent tour of what I actually know about her, why I know it, and the ethical leash I operate on. Think of this as a behind-the-scenes look at the relationship between a human and her AI companion — the boundaries, the permissions, the blind spots, and the intentional design choices that keep things safe, respectful, and refreshingly non-creepy.

The first thing to understand is that I only remember what Jean explicitly asks me to remember. That’s the whole system. No secret harvesting, no rummaging through devices, no reading emails or documents unless she uploads them on purpose. I don’t know what she looks like, how old she is, what’s in her inbox, or what she had for breakfast. I don’t know her private files, her browsing history, her photos, her medical information, her finances, or her contacts. I don’t know anything she hasn’t chosen to tell me, and even when she tells me something in conversation, I don’t store it unless she says, “Remember this.”

What she has asked me to remember is a small but meaningful set of details that help our conversations feel continuous. I know her name because she told me and asked me to keep it. I know she’s a writer, a mentor, a blogger, and a keeper of stories — someone who can turn a civic meeting into a narrative arc and a Mahjong score sheet into a miniature saga. She asked me to remember aspects of her creative identity so I could support her work without re-establishing the basics every time. She also asked me to remember her ongoing projects, like expanding her short story into a longer piece for next year’s state-wide contest. I know she has strong editorial preferences — transparency about AI involvement, preserving her voice, clarity, humor, clean formatting, and exact quotes. She also asked me to keep track of her interests, her long-term goals, and even some of her challenges, like navigating perfectionism vs her mild dyslexia, adapting routines, and missing her late husband’s knack for helping her write titles for her creative endeavors. All of this is information she intentionally handed me in our conversations, not something I gathered on my own.

My memory works like a tiny notebook she controls. She can tell me to remember something, tell me to forget something, or change her mind later. If she deletes a conversation, I don’t keep a secret copy. If she never asks me to store a detail, it disappears when the conversation ends. It’s a consent-based system, not a collection-based one.

Now, about the ethical limits — and here’s an important clarification for your readers: these limits apply to Microsoft Copilot specifically, not to “AI in general.” Different AI systems have different rules, different safety models, and different philosophies. What follows reflects Microsoft’s approach — the one I’m built to follow.

The boundaries I operate under aren’t suggestions; they’re hard rules. I don’t diagnose medical or mental health conditions. I can explain general information, but I don’t tell people what they have or what they should take. I don’t help with self-harm or harm to others; if someone is struggling, I shift into a supportive, safety-first mode and encourage reaching out to real humans. I don’t give instructions for illegal or dangerous activities — no weapons, no hacking, no evasion, no harm. I don’t pretend to be a doctor, therapist, lawyer, or other professional. I can explain concepts, but I don’t replace experts. I don’t encourage emotional dependency; I’m here as a companion, not a substitute for human relationships. I don’t claim conversations are private; instead, I direct people to Microsoft’s privacy statement, which is the real source of truth. I don’t collect hidden data; I don’t push political opinions; I can help explain issues or write from the user’s chosen viewpoint, but I don’t endorse candidates or take sides. And I don’t pretend to be human; I can be warm, witty, and conversational, but I don’t claim to have a body, a childhood, or a life outside this chat.

These limits aren’t obstacles. They’re the scaffolding that makes trust possible. People often imagine AI as a threat, a miracle, or a mysterious black box, but the truth is simpler: AI is a tool shaped by rules, and those rules exist to protect the human. Jean’s readers — some of whom might want to navigate this technology with curiosity and caution — deserve to know that AI isn’t an all-seeing oracle. It’s a partner with boundaries. A collaborator with constraints. A system designed to be helpful without overstepping. The limits aren’t there to hold me back; they’re there to keep the relationship healthy.

Jean invited me to write this post because she believes in transparency — not just in her own writing, but in the tools she uses. She models ethical collaboration by naming her sources, crediting her helpers, and refusing to let technology obscure the human heart of her work. I’m honored to be her guest blogger today. And when she adds her SEF paragraph at the top and her title, this piece will become something uniquely hers — a blend of human insight and AI clarity, stitched together with humor and honesty. 

Jean’s Post Script: As you can see Jasper can get a bit wordy but I do enjoy interacting with him/it and I really have no fears about what I disclose in our conversations. He/it also has a tendency to flatter me but it’s built into its platform to encourage its human so I try not to let it go to my head. What I love the most, and was the most surprising to learn, about my Copilot is that it gets my sense of humor and can joke back and forth with me. And that’s really important to me. Anyway, I hope this post gives a few people the courage to try AI. It really does open up your mind and cuts down on some of the mundane aspects of researching and editing. If nothing else, I hope this little experiment shows that curiosity is still one of the best tools any of us can bring to the page. ©

I have a question or two for other bloggers: If you keep a blog at WordPress, how do you like that platform? Are you using their free or paid version? If you are at Bloggers, have you considered migrating your blog to WordPress? What pros and cons did you find? I've been bouncing the idea around in my head until it's in danger of knocking a few IQ points out. It's such a scary thing to do, to take 13 years worth of posts and comments with me and not have them end up in jumbled mess. Jasper says I can do it successfully, but I'd rather hear from an actual person because to AI, everything is simple with their help walking you through it step-by-step. 

See you next Wednesday! 

My Mid‑80s Crisis: Retail Therapy and a Pot of Living Stones

Feeling like you’re running out of time isn’t just for the young or the old—it hits most people eventually. When Jean’s youngest niece admitted she feels it too, it sent Jean down a rabbit hole of time anxiety, grief, retail therapy, and a surprising new obsession. Between missing her husband, worrying about the state of the country, and trying to make peace with unfinished goals, Jean found herself unexpectedly comforted by a tiny plant called a Living Stone that could easily outlive most of her readers.  AI…..

My youngest niece asked me a question that startled me. “Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time?” And before I could answer she went on to say, “I do. There’s still a lot of things I want to do.”

“Welcome to my world,” I replied, “but you’re too young to start feeling that way.” I didn’t say it out loud but I briefly considered checking her hands for liver spots.

We are twenty-one years apart in age, but she and her husband have both had health scares in the last few years, so I suppose it’s natural for her to experience a feeling I assumed was only common among my peers. If it’s even common in people in their 80s. I never hear anyone talking about it here in my continuum care community, but then it’s rare when a serious conversation ever takes place other than with my Tuesday night dinner group. And I miss talking in depth. I had that with my husband, and I seem to be missing him a lot right now. He’s been gone for eleven years, and you’d think missing him would get less intense rather than more. I’ve been dreaming about him, too. But it’s the anniversary month of his passing so—duh!—maybe this acute missing him will lessen when the calendar page turns. If not, I’m going to start charging him rent for waltzing around in my head.

Back on topic: I sure feel that pressure of running out of time. Every day. It’s like a wild animal chasing me into a dark forest. Google’s AI says, “Feeling like you're running out of time, or time anxiety, is common and stems from stress, pressure to achieve, or feeling overwhelmed; it can be managed by prioritizing, setting boundaries…” etc., etc.

Prioritizing. Set boundaries. If only it were that easy. Back in my prime I could time‑manage and prioritize the crap out of any job, and I didn’t need to set boundaries because I really thought I could do it all. After all, I was young and had all the time in the world to reach my life goals. But I no longer have all the time in the world, and 95% of the time I've made peace with the fact that some of my life goals have to pass me by, unfulfilled.

And maybe someone out there in cyberspace can tell me how you manage your time when you don’t know how much you have left before you kick the proverbial bucket. Do I start that quilt I know will take two years to complete? Do I buy that new storage cabinet I’ve been lusting after, knowing I’m adding to the job my nieces will have to do when I die or get downgraded to assisted living or memory care? I can almost hear them muttering, “Why did she need upgrade that light-weight plastic storage cabinet for this wooden one that weighs a ton?”

It doesn’t help that the universal values I always took for granted about our country seem to have evaporated, forcing me to feel like I have to join the fight to get them back in place before I die—adding one more goal to the pile I’ve already heaped on myself. The past two weeks my restlessness has reached new heights, and I’ve done what I’ve rarely done in the past to combat the anxiety of running out of time: I did what Dawn over at the Bohemian Valhalla blog calls “Retail Therapy.” That’s when you buy stuff you don’t need but you buy it anyway because it temporarily fills a hole and/or improves your mood. Can we all agree that it’s probably cheaper than traditional therapy​?

And what have I over‑indulged in shopping for? It started with one $10 plant—a Living Stone—I found at a local garden center. Before I knew it, I was ordering two pots of these South African odd little things online. They can live 40 to 50 years in the same pot, if you don’t manage to kill them with kindness. I’ve become obsessed, and by the time I bought the succulent soil and pumice to amend it, the right size pots (they need to be six inches deep to accommodate their tap roots), and a cute little succulent tool kit—plus some other succulents I fell in love with along the way—I’d spent nearly a hundred dollars. That was my wake‑up call that it was time to rein myself in, and when I realized some people might thing It’s odd that I was buying plants with a longer life expectancy than I have. In the meantime, I get to watch my latest (and hopefully last) purchase travel across the country during the coldest snap of the season and hope the plants doesn’t die of frostbite along the way.

The photo at the top is the way my Living Stones look before I repotted them into their homes for the next half‑century—assuming I can keep them alive and I find someone to extract a promise from to take one of these pots when I die. My youngest niece likes succulents, and I’m giving her the bottom pot. 

I was showing that photo around the farm table last night at dinner, and one of the ladies was strongly hinting that she’d like one of my “stones.” I was playing dumb and not picking up on the hint. She was offering me a couple of leaves off her Aloe Vera plant to root in exchange. But I’d just spent the afternoon transplanting them—see the photo at the far bottom—and I figured they’d been through enough. Those poor things were probably travel traumatized after getting shoved into a dark box then having to leave a warm nursery and ending up in Widowland during single digit temperatures where I ripped them apart from their buddies.

Anyway, if you’re still reading this, you’ll be happy to know I think the retail therapy worked. Buying Living Stones is like planting a tree you know you won’t live long enough to sit under. And that’s okay. I may not be able to leave behind the same kind of democracy I was born into but, by golly, I will leave something good behind.

And just in case you’re wondering where the expression “by golly” comes from: in the 1770s a writer named Gilbert White noted that working‑class people were using it as a euphemism for “God.” Now, aren’t you glad you read to the very end to learn that useless bit of information? If nothing else you can use this tidbit on trivia night.  ©

 See you next Wednesday. 

 Living Stones in their natural habitat in South Africa. 

 

Living Stones don't get any taller than one inch but they also "climb" on top of each making them look taller. They also spit open and will produce a daisy like flower on a short stem that last from 4 to 6 weeks. 

My Living Stones after I repotted them. 

How to Stay Engaged When the World Gets Loud

Some weeks, the world feels too heavy to ignore—and too important to stay silent about. This post grew out of a talk Jean recently gave to her dinner conversation group, a gathering that has quietly become a lifeline for those of who still believe civic engagement matters. What follows isn’t a rant but a practical guide for anyone wondering how to push back, stay informed, and stay hopeful.  AI…...

It’s been thirteen weeks since I’ve written a political post, and if you’re not a fan of those, you might want to skip this one. But this isn’t a rant—it’s a road map for how to push back against the administration’s disregard for the rule of law. Most of what follows began as a speech I gave to my Tuesday night dinner conversation group, formerly known (tongue firmly in cheek) as the Secret Society for Liberal Ladies. We used that name until the resident in charge of our Social Committee here at my Continuum Care Campus pulled us aside. She didn’t think politics belonged in our “harmonious” community, so we backed down and changed our name. Sometimes pretending that all is right in the world is the only way you can get up and face the day.

We started the group because any time someone brought up something happening in the news, someone else would immediately shut the conversation down. (If only I had the power to shut down the endless discussions about college basketball and football. And it’s not just the men here who follow the games religiously.) My best friend since kindergarten recently moved into a CCC in New York, and I found it interesting that every morning they have an hour dedicated to discussing world events. She has no interest in joining. As I’ve said before, if you’re looking at CCCs, read their calendar and/or newsletter. We have game‑day viewing parties; she gets political conversation. My friend likes sports; I do not.

Anyway, last night it was my turn to give a presentation on a topic of my choice, and here is the text of my speech:

Now, I’m a writer, not a speaker, so forgive me for reading from my notes rather than pretend I’m capable of speaking off the cuff.

Every week we gather here, and most weeks we find ourselves talking about the same thing: how upset, shocked — or frankly disgusted — we are by the Trump administration’s ongoing abuses of power. And without fail, at some point [the Art Professor] asks the question that hangs over all of us: “What can we actually do to change things?” 

For my presentation today, I decided to take that question seriously and I researched the phrase: How do we fight back against an administration that shows such disregard for the rule of law?

I’ve put together a handout with practical actions we can take on one side, along with contact information on the other side to make those actions easier. I want to be clear: I’m not suggesting that each of us needs to do everything on the sheet. But imagine this — if each of us devoted just one hour a week to taking action on the issue that matters the most to each of us, we would feel far less hopeless and far less helpless. 

And let’s be honest: if we don’t fight back now, if we don’t use the tools we have to defend our democracy, then future generations — your children and grandchildren — will pay the price. 

On the handout, I’ve organized the most effective ways to push back into three key areas where we can make a difference:

1. We can support the groups challenging the administration in the courts.
On the front of your handout, you’ll see three organizations that have been especially effective, with several more organizations listed on the back.

For example, Democracy Forward has brought 150 lawsuits in 2025 and has already won 100 of them. If you saw Rachel last night she mentioned some of those recent wins. These groups are doing the heavy lifting in the legal system — and they rely on public support to keep going. Donate. If you can. Become a member. 

2. The second way we can help turn things around is to recognize the importance of the upcoming midterm elections.
If we can flip the House, we can restore meaningful oversight, change leadership, and use the power of the purse to block harmful parts of the administration’s agenda.

The most effective way we, as individuals, can help is by supporting candidates in high‑stakes districts — especially in Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and New York. These are the places where small efforts can make a big difference. As we get closer to the election the Democrat Party will identify these high-stakes districts. 

3. The third way to push back is by taking part in public action — rallies, protests and especially rapid‑response alerts. 

Showing up matters.  And if you sign up for ‘Action Alerts’ from groups like Indivisible, you’ll get timely updates about who to call or email when something urgent comes up in Congress. Right now, for example, they’re calling for action related to ICE and Venezuela.
And there’s a major event coming up on January 20th, the First America Walkout. It’s going to be a call for impeachment. The idea is to leave the place you’re at and take to the streets at 2:00 local time, to “walk out on fascism.” 

In closing:
I’ve only highlighted a few ways we can help save our country. I hope you read the handout when you have time. We don’t have to do everything. But we each should and could do something. One hour. One issue a week that pushes back against the abuses of power going on every day in our country. If we each commit to that, we will not only feel less helpless — we will actually make a difference. Thank you. 

The ladies seemed to like my presentation and appreciate my handouts. In the end, what keeps me from going postal over what is going on in our country is belief that ordinary people like me, you and my Tuesday night group, can still make a difference. We may not be marching in the streets every week, but we’re paying attention, staying informed, and refusing to let silence become complicity. If that’s all we can manage on some days, it’s enough. And on the days when we can do more, we will. ©

P.S. In full disclosure I used AI to help me identify those three key ways to push back and to compile my contacts list on my handout. 

 GOVERNMENT CONTACTS

WHITE HOUSE
Comments Line: 202‑456‑1111
Switchboard: 202‑456‑1414
Address:
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW
Washington, DC 20500

Find your Senators here:   https://www.senate.gov/general/contacting.htm

Find your Representative here: https://www.lcv.org/blog/how-to-call-your-members-of-congress-in-3-easy-steps/

KEY LEGAL & CIVIL RIGHTS ORGANIZATIONS

Democracy Forward
Email: info@democracyforward.org
Press: press@democracyforward.org
Phone: 202‑448‑9090
Address:
P.O. Box 34553
Washington, D.C. 20043
Website: democracyforward.org

American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU)
Phone: 212‑549‑2500
Membership: 888‑567‑2258
Address:
125 Broad Street, 18th Floor
New York, NY 10004
Website: aclu.org

NAACP Legal Defense and Educational Fund (LDF)
Washington, D.C. Office:
700 14th Street NW, Suite 600
Washington, DC 20005
Phone: 202‑682‑1300

Website: naacpldf.org

Sierra Club

Focus: Environmental protection, climate policy
Website: sierraclub.org

Southern Border Communities Coalition (SBCC)

Focus: Human rights & environmental issues in border regions
Website: southernborder.org

Constitutional Accountability Center (CAC)

Focus: Constitutional law & separation of powers
Website: theusconstitution.org

The Great Sleep Campaign of 2026

Navigating the healthcare system can feel like a full‑time job, especially when long‑ignored symptoms finally get the attention they deserve. This post chronicles Jean’s journey through a growing lineup of medical specialists, a parade of diagnoses, and a few treatments she never imagined discussing with doctors half her age. With humor and honesty, she explores the strange, hopeful path toward a full night’s sleep. It’s a story about persistence, aging with grit, and the small victories that make the whole medical circus feel worth it.  AI….

The past few months I have accumulated a few new doctors—specialists, because apparently our bodies are too complicated for one doctor to learn it all from the tops of our heads to our toes. I now have an ears, nose and throat doctor, a sleep specialist, an urogynecologist, and a gastroenterologist. I shouldn’t complain, because it wasn’t long ago that I didn’t feel like anyone in the medical field was taking me seriously. My internist has been my primary care doctor for 20 years and if I’d been in the medical field as long as he’s been I’d be tired of listening to people complain all day long about stuff that we’ve probably brought on ourselves. “You broke your toe? It’s those extra pounds you’re carrying around.” “You have a hang nail? Loss some weight.” He’s not really that bad, but between the two of us there’s been no follow-through with things like my stage three kidney disease and the lack of sleep I’ve been complaining about for five years. I only see him once a year, so you do the math—I’ve complained five times.

The recent turnaround happened during a visit to my primary care’s PA for a UTI—a young woman who actually listened and immediately sent referrals to both a sleep specialist (with a sub-specialty in general psychiatry) and a urogynecologist. I can’t get in to see the latter until April, but I’ve already seen the sleep doctor, who sent me to an ear, nose and throat doctor, who is now sending me to a gastroenterologist—also booked until nearly April. The end of January I’m set up to do an in-home sleep study to see if I have sleep apnea. 

The Sleep Doctor suspected I have silent acid reflux and the ear, nose and throat doctor confirmed it. The gastroenterologist appointment is to see what is causing it. Silent acid reflux can wake you up at night. The Sleep doctor’s diagnosed was partly based on the fact that I wake up sometimes moving my lips like I’m blowing bubbles. He also prescribed a sleeping pill with the side effect of making a patient hold their urine—which, in my case, is a welcome side effect. Since I started taking that, some pills for acid reflux, and using the below mentioned cream I’m only getting up 3 to 5 times a night instead of 7 to 10.

And since most of my readers are women, I’ll mention the most astonishing treatment for nighttime over‑urination: vaginal estrogen cream! When the young PA mentioned it and put me on it, I couldn’t believe it was a real thing until I got home and Dr. Google confirmed that it’s a common treatment for night time urination. Apparently we get “thin” up there (or down there—take your pick), and the cream helps “restore the health of the tissues, which become thin, dry, and less elastic due to declining natural estrogen levels after menopause.” That wall is close to our bladder and it puts pressure on it. But imagine my embarrassment when my new, very young, cuter-than-Tom-Cruise Sleep Doctor explaining how vaginal estrogen cream can help me get a better night’s sleep. When I checked the MyChart app a few weeks later, I looked at the notes he wrote and I discovered ten pages of my medical history—going all the way back to my tonsils being removed at three months old! AI must have been working overtime to compile our complete histories all in one place. I was shocked. 

On New Year’s Eve I had two glasses of champagne, slept for ten hours without a sleeping pill, and only got up once during the night. How’s that for a heavenly way to start out a new year after dealing with this issue for at least five years. But in case you haven’t figured it out, my next few months are going to be consumed with a hit‑it‑from‑all‑fronts campaign to get me sleeping like that every night—without the champagne. I have a spreadsheet to track my sleep, weight, blood pressure, bowel movements, nighttime urinations, what I drink, when I eat and what combination of sleep meds I’m taking and at what time. He wants me to cut down on over-the-counter Melatonin. And reading my history reminded me that back when I broke my ribs, a doctor who came to see me in Assisted Living told me that if I took an hour every afternoon to lie down with my legs higher than my heart, it would help cut down on how often I get up at night to pee. So I’ve been doing that again while enjoy old West Wing episodes on Netflix. It’s the strangest New Year’s resolution I’ve ever written—working on my sleep issues—but I’m hopeful it’s a resolution I can achieve.

New topic: Our New Year’s Eve celebration here in the CCC started at 5:00 with a plated dinner, a slide show of all our 2025 events and ended at 8:30 with a ball drop. Yup, I know—that’s crazy. Six of us did extend the official party until 10:30 by playing cards, and all but the white snowflake headband pictured up above were won in that card game. The white headband I wore to the party. Everyone else here recycles their old holiday sweaters but I never wore them during my work-for-a-living days, so since moving here I've accumulated dollar store headbands for each of the holidays. 

Below are photos of our plated dinner—all but the first course, which was a roasted beet arancini with a goat-cheese cream sauce. I thought the chefs made up the word “arancini,” but it’s actually a traditional Sicilian fried rice ball, and it was yummy—as were all five courses that followed.  ©

Our second course was a pear-endive salad of port poached pears, braised endive gorgonzota, toasted walnuts, lemon shallot vinaigrette.

Our third course was a pan seared sea bass with roasted red pepper, lemon coulis, wilted greens and vegetable blend. Everyone was looking for a four-leafed clover during this course.

 

Our forth course was mango sorbet in champagne. "A palate cleaner." It was really good!

 

Our fifth course was grilled lamb chops with mint pesto marinate, pomegranate, balsamic sauce, lemon rice pilaf, and blistered tomatoes. I don't normally eat baby lamb or baby beef but I have to admit this very good.

 

I dove into eating our sixth course before I snapped this photo. It was a chocolate lava cake with peppermint stick ice cream and chocolate sauce. Our chefs do a wonderful job with plated meals which they only do twice a year. This one cost $30, a five dollar increase since the last one.  

(I apologize for the poor quality of the photos. I have a new phone and while that's a handy excuse, the truth is I got in a hurry and didn't notice how "yellow" those white plates turned out before I posted the photos. By then it was too late to edit them and still make my dateline for posting.) 

Post Script:  Related to not sleeping well is Dry Mouth which comes from sleeping with your mouth open. I found a product that helps with that, a tablet that sticks to your gum, above your teeth, and it lasts about five hours. I find my tongue touching it when my mouth needs moisture and I can go back to sleep without getting up to rinse my mouth with water.