“We have built the safest civilisation in human history while convincing ourselves that we live in the most dangerous. Billions of people experienced measurable improvements in health, safety, and material conditions in 2025. That progress didn’t make the news. But it happened anyway, one vaccine, one school meal, one kilowatt-hour at a time.”
—Angus Hervey, Fix the News

From Fix the News, one of several good-news publications I receive—and one that skews toward science-based progress. This one does start with a depressing summary of the news we’ve all heard—but then moves into a long series of victories that most of us didn’t even now about. It pauses to excoriate mass media for amplifying the negative and superficial (e.g., celebrities) while ignoring unsexy but vital stories such as the amazing ocean treaties and the actual elimination of rampant fatal diseases, country by country. And then it finishes with another long list of victories for humanity and the other creatures we share this amazing planet with.

You won’t be sorry to spend ten minutes with this. https://fixthenews.com/p/the-telemetry?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=4861955&post_id=182468358&utm_campaign=email-post-title&isFreemail=true&r=sl4r&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email

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Guest post by Robert Middleton (reprinted, with permission, from his August 19, 2025 newsletter):

Does the world feel upside down right now?

With news filled with images of the National Guard in D.C. and families separated by immigration crackdowns, you may wonder:

What difference could I possibly make?

The air is heavy with uncertainty.

Fear, anger, and confusion ripple through conversations, social feeds, and daily headlines.

In such times, the smallest acts of courage, kindness, and responsibility matter more than ever.

When history seems to be surging around us, it’s easy to dismiss the impact of day-to-day choices.

Keeping our heads down and worrying that things will get worse can make us feel powerless.

But what if you did something different? What if you chose to make a difference every day?

Instead of complaining, worrying, blaming, or lashing out, try this:

• Check in on a friend going through a rough patch. Let them know that you care and that you’re there for them.
• Support a local business owned by new Americans, as an act of solidarity, not charity.
• Contribute to a political advocacy group that’s supporting a cause you feel strongly about.
• Write a short note of gratitude to a teacher or healthcare worker who is coping with stress.

None of these actions will stop the world from spinning faster than we can keep up.

But each is a reframing—a choice to build up, not tear down, hope and connection.

During times marked by images of a nation’s capital occupied by military forces, or ordinary people rounded up and searched, public trust breaks down.

A collective sense of helplessness—and sometimes rage—sets in.

But when the macro feels out of reach, the micro is where we reclaim our agency.

• Kindness to a neighbor reminds both of you that not all relationships are defined by politics or fear.
• Speaking up—even quietly—for someone treated unjustly counters the narrative that cruelty is normal, or that no one cares.
• Choosing curiosity over numbness or judgment plants seeds of resilience and community.

These actions rarely make headlines.

Yet, like steady water wearing down stone, they have the power to shift neighborhoods, workplaces, and even families quietly back toward sanity and care.

You don’t need a five-step plan to save democracy, or an answer to every injustice.

What you do have—every day—is the opportunity to gently resist cynicism, isolation, and fear.

Sometimes, the strongest stand isn’t a shouted slogan or a march, but a persistent, small act of care that refuses to let the cruelty of the moment make us less human.

In these turbulent times, being someone who still tries—not perfectly, not heroically, but persistently, in your own way—is no small thing.

History may remember the leaders and the laws, but the future will be shaped by the quiet, daily choices that keep dignity and compassion alive.

And that difference, however humble, is always worth making.

If you can relate to this struggle to make a difference in turbulent times, I invite you to check out the M.A.D. Team website with a simple approach to making a difference. Take what you can and give a shot at putting the ideas into action.

Then, twice a month, join us on Zoom to share ideas for making a difference. The first date is Friday, September 5, at 12 noon Pacific (1MT/2CT/3ET). You can make your reservation now if you like!

Cheers, Robert

If you like this newsletter, please feel free to forward it to a friend.
They can subscribe here: https://ordinaryvisionaries.com/mad

Quote of the Day:

“The greatest danger in times of turbulence is not the turbulence; it is to act with yesterday’s logic.”
– Peter Drucker

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Most of these are singable songs that can be used at rallies, though I snuck in a few harder to learn ones that tell really inspiring stories, marked with *, as well as some in other languages. Vaguely sorted but many of these songs could be in multiple categories. Authors’ names included where I have them. These are living songs. You will find versions with different lyrics, verses in different order as they evolve—adapted for new causes or new definitions or new sensibilities. You’ll also find some older works that don’t reflect the nth degree of what’s currently considered politically correct. They were important songs in their time, and part of what I’m trying to do is provide a sense of movement history. You’ll also find some musings about what a particular song means to me, sometimes with a memory thrown in. Enjoy!

 

The Strength of Ordinary People who “Activize” and Resist

Tyrants Always Fall (Nerissa Nields). When I got depressed during the first DT term, I often turned to this song for comfort. Western Mass folks will recognize the Northampton scenery, as The Nields are local and filmed their video downtown.

Something Inside So Strong (Labi Siffre). The Black Gay British man who wrote it was shocked by a video of South African police shooting into a crowd of anti-apartheid demonstrators—and also drew on his own background growing up gay and marginalized. It’s been widely adapted in the movements both to end apartheid and to gain LGBTQ rights. The couplet “The more you refuse to hear my voice/ The louder I will sing” is the earworm that’s been in my head a lot lately—and what inspired me to compile this resource.

*Denmark, 1943 (Fred Small) documents the incredible night when the people of Denmark rose up to smuggle almost the country’s entire Jewish population to safety in Sweden, just before the Nazis planned to swoop in to arrest and deport them. It has a singable chorus but I wouldn’t try to teach it to crowd that’s never heard it.

Never Turning Back (Pat Humphries). A great zipper song, easy to teach and lead.

Power to the People: We Rise (Laurie Woodward Garcia). Released in June, 2025, this song draws lyrics, energy, and photos from many struggles, including many from 2020 to the present.

If I Had a Hammer (Pete Seeger and Lee Hays). The original lyrics had “All of my brothers.” Decades ago, activist Libby Frank asked Pete at one of his concerts, “Why only brothers?” So Pete discussed it with Lee and they came back with “my brothers and my sisters.” In this version, Emma’s Revolution changed it to the more gender-inclusive “all of the resisters.” We still need to come up with something that has love not just for the resisters but for everyone, without reintroducing the gender binary. Got an idea?

Song of the Soul (Cris Williamson). An anthem of the women’s and lesbian movements, but I put it here because it’s also applicable generally.

Swimming to the Other Side (Pat Humphries). Like Song of the Soul, a song of spiritual renewal.

How Could Anyone Ever Tell You (Libby Roderick). I always thought of this as an LGBTQ community song. Turns out it’s been used in dozens of social movements. You’ll find a long list at the link, as well as several different recordings.

Rebecca Jones (Bob Blue). An ordinary mom steps into her greatness and gives a speech that inspires peace workers. I don’t know if this is based on one real person and one real incident, but I’ve met dozens and there have been tens of thousands of ordinary people who created massive social change, from 11-year-old Malala Yousafzai and 15-year-old Greta Thunberg (ages at the times they became activists) to Doris “Granny D” Haddock and Frances Crowe, both still activists on their hundredth birthdays. Despite dying at age 57, Bob was a prolific songwriter who left behind dozens of great songs. He’s probably best known for the feminist song “The Ballad of Erica Levine,” sung here by Kim Wallach. I’ve heard that one at several feminist weddings.

We’re Still Here (Holly Near). An upbeat, almost vaudevillian celebration of the resistance’s resilience and power.

What’s Going On (Marvin Gaye). That link is to an “official” video, released in 2019 (35 years after Gaye’s death) that includes images and sounds of protests and repression. If you would rather have it straight up, visit https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-kA3UtBj4M

 

LGBTQ

Singing For Our Lives (Holly Near). I love this video because not only do we have Holly’s beautiful rendition as it had evolved by 2004, but hugely inspiring footage of the massive march for women’s reproductive rights where she performed it. And some new lyrics put up at the end of the video. Holly literally wrote this song while carpooling to San Francisco to protest the murder of San Francisco Board of Supervisors member Harvey Milk—one of the first openly gay politicians in the US—and Mayor George Moscone by a right-wing homophobe. The driver, Holly herself, and a few others discuss the song’s origins and power in this short video.

*Scott and Jamie (Fred Small). Another true-story ballad from I Will Stand Fast (the same album as Denmark, 1943). How, in the 1980s, a gay male couple provided a loving, nonjudgmental home for two abused brothers only to have them ripped away by a homophobic government. Glad we have made big progress on this issue, at least.

*My Name is Joanna (Flight or Visibility). Misgendered once too often, my nonbinary younger child, a professional musician and music educator who also runs a school for social justice, wrote this after an encounter with a particularly clueless server in a cafe. Language warning: One f-bomb in the last line.

*When I Was a Boy (Dar Williams). A gender-bending song from the early 1980s that amazingly enough, I discovered because my local commercial FM rock station played it regularly! I very much identify with this song, especially the ending.

Thank You Anita (Charlie King). Released back in 1979, King counters Florida orange juice spokesperson Anita Bryant’s very public homophobia by saying she united people who hadn’t worked together before but now were joining forces to oppose her bigotry.

 

Peace

Oh What a Grand and Glorious Feeling (I think this is traditional, but it could have been written by Earl Robinson, who I learned it from at a house concert around 1978. Since then, I’ve taught it at many sing-alongs and rallies. I didn’t find a recording, just the lyrics, but the tune is the same as Oh How Lovely Is the Evening.)

Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream (Ed McCurdy). My folk-music-loving 4th grade teacher taught us this song and many other great ones!

*The Hammer Has to Fall (Charlie King). This song actually changed the way I felt about property-destruction civil disobedience that resulted in long prison terms. I used to resent the Ploughshare 8 for removing themselves from activism for decades. This song humanized them for me and touched my soul deeply.

Imagine (John Lennon). I could have put this in the general resilience category, or made a new section on visioning. But I’m putting it here because of the second verse that contains both “Nothing to kill or die for” and “Living life in peace.”

 

Safe Energy/No Nukes

Acres of Clams (Charlie King). Theme song of the Clamshell Alliance’s 1977 Seabrook occupation (one of my proudest moments in 55 years of activism).

We Almost Lost Detroit (Gil Scott-Heron). You may have never heard of the 1966 accident at the Enrico Fermi nuclear plant in Michigan, or the one at Browns Ferry in Alabama in 1975—or dozens of other near-calamities. Gill Scott-Heron helps us remember Fermi. By the way, I am convinced that the reason we DID hear about Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and Fukushima while most of us have not heard of more than 100 other serious nuclear accidents was because of the safe energy movement, which inspired the movie, The China Syndrome, that came out right before the TMI accident. Lyrics.

 

US Civil Rights Movement

Oh, Freedom (traditional). I love Odetta’s version but could only find it as part of her Freedom Trilogy, so I went with Harry Belafonte’s.

I Ain’t Scared of Your Jail ‘Cause I Want My Freedom. From Pete Seeger’s 1963 Carnegie Hall concert, one of my favorite albums ever. More of this is telling the story than singing the very short song. But only Pete’s own recording turned up in a search.

We Shall Overcome (many authors over multiple generations). The anthem of the Civil Rights movement, carried over to many struggles since—in part, because it’s a “zipper song” where it’s easy to add new verses. Great article on the history of the song from Encyclopedia Britanica.

Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around (adaptation of a traditional Black gospel song). This performance by civil rights activists the Freedom Singers doesn’t have a date, but according to this university curriculum citation, it can’t be older than 1962 or newer than 1980. My guess is sometime between 1962-65. I think I first heard it at a community rally in Atlanta when I lived there briefly in 1976, during a college internship at a socialist community newspaper.

 

Immigration and Immigration Justice

Yes I Am (American) (Malini D. Sur, MD). This 2010 song joins Brown, Black, Yellow, and Red people through the common experience of coming from someplace else—even if it was 10,000 years ago across the Bering Strait.

Mexican Chef (Xenia Rubinos) celebrates the jobs immigrants, especially Latines, do for people in the US and how our society would grind to a halt without them. I could do without the fake-sexy dance moves, though.

Where You Go (I Will Go) (Shoshana Jedwab). Based on the Old Testament Book of Ruth, one of the earliest voluntary migration stories we have. The Old Testament contains many migration stories across many centuries: Adam and Eve leaving the Garden, Abraham leaving Iraq and later experiencing several temporary migrations, Hagar and Ishmael forced into the desert, climate refugees Jacob and his adult children seeing refuge in Egypt, where he reunites with Joseph, the son he’d been told had been killed, Moses and later Joshua leading the Israelites out of slavery…I’d say these migration stories contain a lot of the power in those texts.

Deportee (Woody Guthrie, words; Martin Hoffman. music). The ugliness of US immigration policy is nothing new; this song was written following the death of a plane full of migrants in 1948. Judy Collins’ voice is achingly beautiful.

Using the same melody and parallelling the lyrics, Yosl Kurland ties together the tragedy of the Ashkenazi (Northern European) Jews aboard the St. Louis—which was refused entry by several countries including the US, and most of whose passengers were killed in the Holocaust after being sent back to the country they’d sailed from—and the modern tragedies of refuges from the Middle East, Afghanistan, and Latin America still being turned away or imprisoned or abandoned, in a powerful 2017 update called Refugee.

Leaving Mother Russia (Robbie Solomon). A song written for Natan Sharansky in the 1970s, when he was imprisoned for Jewish rights activism by the USSR.

*Revelación (Genie Santiago). Bilingual English/Spanish rap with lots of images of protests and of people trying to cross the border. Like so many immigration songs, this could also go easily into the Class section.

*Immigrants (We Get The Job Done) (Lin-Manuel Miranda). A remix with pieces from various songs in his musical, Hamilton. Lyrics here.

Running (Refugee Song) (Keyon Harrold, Andrea Pizziconi, and Jasson Harrold) describes the hard life in refugee camps—and why they had to flee in the first place.

American Land (Bruce Springsteen). With a rollicking Irish melody, Springsteen contrasts the dreams of wealth and ease shared by so many immigrants in the 19th and early 20th centuries with the harsh realities they found here. This version, appropriately, was filmed live in Dublin. Also of note are the words Springsteen speaks at a 2025 concert in Manchester, UK before singing Land of Hopes and Dreams (another song from the same album).

Kilkelly, Ireland (Peter Jones). A 19th-century Irish farmer dictates letters to his son living in the US across several decades. This hauntingly beautiful song reminds us that until quite recently, people who emigrated left behind loved ones and had only very slow postal mail to keep in touch. And despite the magic of video calls and emails, what’s still true today is that for many, there is no going back.

 

Class, Labor, and Economic Justice

This Land is Your Land (Woody Guthrie). In 1975, I found myself co-leading a march of several thousand people through the streets of Washington, DC, playing this song on harmonica along with a violinist, a kazoo player, and I think a guitarist. Not only didn’t we rehearse, I had no idea I was going to be drafted into this impromptu marching band. The two string players were also singing. That day was memorable both because it remains the only time I’ve ever performed music for an audience (other than teaching “Oh What a Grand and Glorious Feeling”)—because it was the first time I heard the long-suppressed politically progressive “secret” verses. I used to own an LP where you could actually hear the needle scratch as it was pulled away to cut those verses out of the master. Guthrie wrote hundreds of lyrics but to the best of my knowledge, never wrote a tune.

This particularly moving performance is led by Pete Seeger, less than four months before he turned 90, with some help from his grandson Tao Rodríguez Seeger, Bruce Springsteen, and a mostly Black chorus—recorded at the Lincoln memorial during Obama’s inauguration concert.

Talkin’ About A Revolution (Tracy Chapman). Chart-topping class-based anthem about those who are “…standing in the welfare lines/
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation”

Is This the World We Created? (Freddie Mercury and Brian May of Queen). A British comparison of desperate hunger in the Global South with “a wealthy man…sitting on his throne.”

Step By Step (Words from a 19th-century union rulebook; music by Pete Seeger). We are strongest when we work together.

Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? (Yip Harburg and Jay Gorney). Written in 1932 during the Great Depression and a hit for both Bing Crosby and Rudy Vallee, it starkly illuminates the way corporate greed casts aside those who built that wealth. This much more recent version, soulful if a bit overblown, is by George Michael. Good backgrounder on the Kennedy Center website. In case the MAGAs have taken it down, this is the most recent version (April 12, 2025) on Archive.org. BTW, Harburg is a major Broadway songwriter probably best known for songs like “Somewhere, over the Rainbow” and “It’s Only a Paper Moon.”

I’m Changing My Name to Chrysler (Tom Paxton). A scathing response to the bailout of US automakers during the Carter years (not to be confused with the similar bailout under Bush II). Arlo Guthrie recorded the song when it was new, then recorded it with Tom’s updated lyrics for this 2008 Farm Aid benefit.

We Gotta Get Out of This Place (Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil). Hard-rocking ‘60’s hit about love amidst terrible working conditions.

 

Liberation Struggles Around the World

*Would You Harbor Me? (Ysaye Barnwell, USA, of Sweet Honey in the Rock). A beautiful song asking the title question about a wide range of people who are part of oppressed groups.

Woyaya (Sol Amarfio, Ghana, of Osibisa). You may know versions by Art Garfunkel or the Fifth Dimension. This is the composer’s band, Osibisa, from 1971.

Si se calla el cantor (Horacio Guarany, Argentina). “What will become of life if the Singer/Does not raise his voice in the stands/For those who suffer, for those for whom there is/No reason that condemns him to walk without a blanket.” Full lyrics and translation here.

Mbube (Solomon Linda, South Africa). Americanized as Wimoweh/The Lion Sleeps Tonight, this was a huge hit for the Weavers in 1951 and again 11 years later for the Tokens. This version by Ladysmith Black Mambazo is closer to the original but with lots of unique LBM touches. And this is very much what a local Black chorus sounded like when we heard them play this song on the streets of Cape Town. There is an upsetting chronicle about the way Mr. Linda was defrauded of proper compensation on Wikipedia.

Falasteen Biladi (Hamood Alkuder). A Palestinian cries out for justice in Gaza. Arabic with English subtitles.

Zahrat al-Mada’en (Assi Rahbani, Mansour Rahbani). The Palestinian narrator mourns the isolation from Jerusalem (whose name literally translates as “city of peace”), beloved by both Palestinians and Jews. Performed here by Fairuz. Translated lyrics here. For a Jewish perspective, listen to Ben Snof singing “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem” from Psalm 137 (many translations into English here). Interestingly, the same Biblical psalm also contains “By the Waters of Babylon,” another song of exiles longing for their homeland.

 

Resources

This list of 50 songs is a drop in a roaring river of great social change music. Find more in the songbooks Rise Up Signing and its second volume, Rise Again, compiled by Peter Blood and Annie Patterson, in We Rise: A Movement Songbook available for no-cost download, at the websites of Peoples Music Network and Sing Out magazine, at this Spotify playlist, and on the websites of many of the authors and performers.

 

Thank-yous to the many people (alphabetically) who suggested songs:

Janet Beatrice

Stephanie L.H. Calahan

Donna Cooney

Lisa Diaz

Raf Horowitz Friedman

Luis-Orlando Isaza Villegas

Riqi Kosovske

Yosl Kurland

Lauchlan Mackinnon

Oscar Martinez

Marcia Miller

Amanda Risi

Andrea Rudnik

Phil Stone

Sandy Sulsky

Melody Tilton

Dianne Turausky

Debbie Ward

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A friend sent a link to this short motivational video on ten sentences we need to hear at least once. I enjoyed. I especially liked #8, motivation doesn’t last—but neither does bathing so we do it every day. #4 is also good; I might rephrase it with the bumper sticker statement, “Don’t postpone joy.”

But I have issues with his word choice in #10, “Comfort is the enemy of achievement.” He’s right in some cases. Inherited wealth is often a barrier to achievement. So is walling yourself off from the things that cause discomfort. However, comfort has many shades of meaning.

I’m pretty sure he means that people need to get out of their smug, self-righteous bubbles, be willing to experience—and do something about—the suffering of others. But it will be interpreted by too many as “put on that hairshirt, dammit, you have no right to pleasure while others suffer.”

And THAT, I strongly disagree with.

Comfort, in some of its other meanings besides that smug self-superiority, is not a sin. Actually, I believe it’s a crucial element of our success in the world. We need to be able to both give and receive it.

To those who would deny the right of pleasure, I give you Emma Goldman’s famous quote, often paraphrased as “If I can’t dance I don’t want to be in your revolution”—here’s the original: “I did not believe that a Cause which stood for a beautiful ideal, for anarchism, for release and freedom from convention and prejudice, should demand the denial of life and joy.” 

Comfort, as a verb, also refers to the mitzvah (in the sense of “good deed,” rather than “commandment”) of extending a hand, an ear, a hug to those who are grieving loss, ailing, in pain. I am sure Mr McKinney would not deny that comfort to others. That kind of comfort is an antidote to bitterness—and bitterness is a cancer interfering with any healing journey, whether self-healing, comforting others, or changing the world for the better.

As I’m using the word, comfort is an attribute like gratitude. It enables us to function better, make more change in the world, and keep our sanity.

It is NOT a self-built wall to shield us from the things that should make us uncomfortable. I do not agree with the right-wing legislators who think that they can isolate their “comfortable” kids from such realities as race-based inequality by making it illegal to teach those unpleasant realities—but when introducing that level of discomfort, we need to provide the emotional and tactical support to let those kids not just handle it but figure out something they can do to make it better.

So learn to be comfortable, but not complicit. Find pleasure in the things you do, including your social change. Keep good company and do those things with friends at least some of the time.Facebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail

The other day, I attended a memorial service for a neighbor. I’m not someone who typically gets offended at memorial services—but one speaker—a son of the deceased—made me feel I was standing underneath an avalanche. He said almost nothing about his mother, but went on and on about the need to accept Jesus and become this man’s kind of “Christian” in order to be spared a literal eternity in actual Hell.

Listening, I grew increasingly upset and furious. He effectively created a second-class citizenship, or worse, for everyone who doesn’t follow his particular brand of religion

I am not a Christian, but I’ve read the Four Gospels. Remember the parable of the Good Samaritan? Samaritans were a despised ethnic group among Jews in Roman Palestine 2000 years ago. Jesus’ message was all about acceptance of the good in people, acceptance of diversity, and taking responsibility for your OWN behavior—attributes that seem to be in short supply amongst this man’s self-righteous and vindictive style of religious fundamentalism. I don’t even now how they can even call themselves Christians when their key message mocks and marginalizes Christ’s own virtues. And I was appalled by this man, so smug that he actually said that he would see his parents in Heaven IF they were admitted there; he had no worries about his own fitness to enter the kingdom of love. Jesus would have been just as appalled. He was far more concerned with healing the sick, with undoing the misery of the poor and bereft, than with following religious rituals without following the moral codes underlying them:codes that recognize the worth of every human being.

After the service, I was simmering with rage and felt a need to process with someone who’d been there. I called another neighbor, a friend who welcomed us to the neighborhood 25 years ago. Before I could even say more than “I need to vent about the memorial service,” she named the offensive speaker and told me that she and her husband were equally appalled, and that this man with his ugly prejudices was an outlier in his own family. I felt some closure after our call.

The next day, I mentioned in my daily public Gratitude Journal on Facebook that I was grateful for her support “helping me debrief a very uncomfortable moment in the memorial we both attended yesterday.” I didn’t give any more details than that.

And then the magic happened. I got a Facebook private message from another neighbor, a relative of the deceased. This person is my Facebook friend, but in real life, we barely know each other. Most of our contact has been a quick hello at the annual neighborhood holiday party. She sent me a deeply personal and very welcoming note of apology for the conduct of her relative, appreciation that I had attended, and gratitude for the many cultures and religions who had come together to support her family in this time of grief. We sent a stream of messages back and forth for the next half-hour, and I came away feeling like I had a new friend, even after 25 years of those superficial encounters.

And that was the silver lining—another gateway to abundance—in this cloud of ugly bigotry.

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Abundance Tree by Anvar Saifutdinov: Painting of a green-colored male lion sitting under a large tree bearing many kinds of fruits and vegetables.
Abundance Tree by Anvar Saifutdinov, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

In the coverage of President Biden’s November 1, 2022 speech about the chaos the enemies of democracy want, something else important was missed: Biden is a rare politician who understands the Abundance Principle:

At our best, America’s not a zero-sum society or for you to succeed, someone else has to fail. A promise in America is big enough, is big enough, for everyone to succeed. Every generation opening the door of opportunity just a little bit wider. Every generation including those who’ve been excluded before.

We believe we should leave no one behind, because each one of us is a child of God, and every person, every person is sacred. If that’s true, then every person’s rights must be sacred as well. Individual dignity, individual worth, individual determination, that’s America, that’s democracy and that’s what we have to defend.

These powerful words embrace what I’ve been talking about for years: that we have enough to go around, but have to address kinks in the distribution and a lack of political will that leave some clinging by a thread while others amass far more than they need or even can use. These truths are amplified in powerful books like The Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid, Business Solution to Poverty, and my own Guerrilla Marketing to Heal the World.

We don’t need to live in a world crippled by dire hunger and poverty–cutting off who knows how many amazing new discoveries because the people who would have made them are too busy struggling for basic survival. We don’t have to accept war as a consequence of limited resources, because the abundance mindset understands that a particular resource is only one path to a goal, and there are others. We especially don’t need to go to war over petroleum (which has incited so many wars, including US-conducted wars in places like Iraq and Vietnam)–because we are already using different energy resources, such as solar, wind, and geothermal, which are already edging out fossil and nuclear in both financial and environmental benefits.

And we can absolutely reject the outdated concept that if one person or group wins, some other has to lose. The abundance mindset is collaborative: we win by joining forces for common goals. This powerful frame can apply to material goods, and also to intangibles like love–as Malvina Reynolds made clear decades ago in her charming song, “Magic Penny.”

How are you using abundance to create a better world? Please  respond in the comments (which are moderated, so don’t bother filling it with junk).

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I went through a course from Pachamama Alliance called “Awakening the Dreamer,” a prerequisite for an activist training course I signed up for.
Near the end, I was asked, “Identify and write down the actions you will take to express your commitment to creating a thriving, just, and sustainable future.
And, for added effectiveness, include the date by which you will complete the action.”
My response has a lot to do with who I am, who I have been, who I hope to become, and why I do what I do. I’m sharing it in full:
  • Continue to work on immigration justice through Jewish Activists for Immigration Justice (ongoing since 2019).
  • Continue my career path of showing business that meaningfully addressing climate change, hunger/poverty, racism/otherism, war, etc. through core products, services, and mindset can be a success path (ongoing since 2003).
  • Continue to nurture democratic impulses in my own town/region and help some of them run for local office (ongoing since 1983).
  • Continue using my writing, speaking, and organizing skills to spotlight important issues locally, regionally, nationally, and globally (ongoing since 1972)–and strengthening these skills through continuous learning (which is why I signed up for this training).
  • Continue to be an activist who shows up to make a difference and be counted whenever practical (and sometimes when it’s not).
  • Continue to act on my belief that each of us can make a difference, and that difference is greatly amplified by working with others.
  • Continue to celebrate the victories I help achieve or passively support.
  • Continue to find ways to evolve as a person: to be more supportive of others, to recognize barriers others may face, and to face new experiences with gratitude and enjoyment.
None of these have completed-by dates. Most will not be completed in my lifetime.. I will do this work as long as I can.
<End of my response>
Three quick takeaways I want to leave you with:
  1. Each of us can have an impact, especially if we go about our work with focus and determination
  2. That work is amplified when we collaborate with others in an organized way
  3. We are all growing and changing and evolving–ideally, into our best selves; that journey never stops

For the past few years, I’ve been doing Chris Brogan’s exercise of picking three words to guide my year. In 2020, they were Clarity (20/20 vision), Justice, and (perhaps presciently) Healing. Last year, Rethink, Pivot, Transform.

This year, I’ve picked a single word after reading this article by my friend and mentor Sam Horn. My Word for the Year is EVOLVE–and it’s an acronym:

Enthusiasm

Vision

Optimism

Leverage (getting my message in front of more influencers, and more people generally)

Victories along the way (which we achieve through both small and large steps toward a more just, eco-friendly society)

Evolution (a better world)

 

And how are you framing YOUR 2022? May it be a blessed one for you your loved ones, and all of us.

 

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Years ago, I subscribed to Brain Pickings (recently rebranded as The Marginalian): Maria Popova’s amazing twice-weekly celebration of science, art, music, literature, and nature. While I have no memory of how I first discovered it, I immediately embraced the abundant world she lives in, and her eagerness to share the treasures she finds.

First screen of Maria Popova’s introduction to Ursula Le Guin’s essay, On Being a Man”

 
I rarely read it, but I will keep my subscription, thank you. Every issue is a gem—and every issue is a rabbit hole that leaves me following so many links that I don’t emerge for 30 or 60 minutes. And if I only dip in every once in a while, it’s still a special pleasure.
 
Long ago, I resigned myself to knowing that the richness of the world’s knowledge is something I can only skim the surface of, no matter how many books and articles I read and how many podcasts and seminars I listen to. I read more than most people—80+ books and thousands of articles in a typical year—but it’s still 0.000000001 percent of what I COULD immerse myself into, if I didn’t have a life to live, a living to earn, and eyes that need to rest. I’ve made my peace with that reality and don’t waste energy on FOMO (fear of missing out), nor do I beat myself up for not striving harder to soak it all in.
 
I’m really glad I opened today’s newsletter. I followed links to Ursula Le Guin’s poem “Kinship,” which Popova describes accurately as a “love poem to trees.” That led me first to one then another remarkable poem by Jane Hirshfield—the first read by the author and the second by Amanda Palmer (unfortunately, I took an unmarked turn somewhere in the rabbit hole and can’t get back to those—but I did create a long list of Hirshfield poems on Popova’s site). Then I went back to the current edition and read Le Guin’s witty essay on gender pronouns and aging. I could have stayed much longer, following links until my eyes bugged out.
 
In fact, I finally became a paying monthly sustainer just now—something I should have done years ago!

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I wish I’d written this wonderful piece, “Ten Ways to Confront the Climate Crisis Without Losing Hope” by Rebecca Solnit. It’s part of a new series in The Guardian called “Reconstruction After Covid” (thus the UK spellings on a piece by an American author).

It covers a lot of ground: optimism, hope, organizing mass movements, climate justice, the role of indigenous people in todays struggles, and much more. I found it well-worth the 15 minutes or so it took to read the whole thing.
 
Three short excerpts from this long article:
1] I have often met people who think the time I have spent around progressive movements was pure dutifulness or dues-paying, when in fact it was a reward in itself – because to find idealism amid indifference and cynicism is that good.
 
2] [Halting the Keystone XL pipeline] was not a gift from Biden; it was a debt being paid to the climate activists who had made it an important goal. Patience counts, and change is not linear. It radiates outward like ripples from a stone thrown into a pond. It matters in ways no one anticipates. Indirect consequences can be some of the most important ones. [She goes on to trace the Standing Rock movement and AOC’s decision to run for Congress to earlier struggles that appeared, in the moment, to fail. These types of indirect sparks to deep change are something I’ve often written and spoken about, including this post about how one environmental justice action changed the world.]
 
3] We have victories. Some of them are very large, and are why your life is the shape it is. The victories are reminders that we are not powerless, and our work is not futile. The future is not yet written, but by reading the past, we see patterns that can help us shape that future.
One small quibble: while I agree with Solnit that individual lifestyle changes are far less consequential than mass organizing, and that the solutions have to really reinvent the entire worlds of business and government–I do think the lifestyle choices, the changes we make in the ways we are on this planet, should not be trivialized or dismissed. 
 
Via Robert Hubbell’s always-optimistic Today’s Edition newsletter, which I read before breakfast every weekday morning. Hubbell is a champion of the Democrats and far more centrist than I am. But I love that he is always a cheerleader for what went right and a strong advocate of the need to keep organizing and working for change when things don’t go according to our wishes.
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Here’s a true incident from my teenage college years. I made a mild request to a group of people and one of my dorm-mates lit into me about how I was always so selfish and didn’t care about other people. It hurt like hell to hear this–but I reflected on it and decided that he had a point. So I changed my behavior. Decades later, I saw him at a reunion and thanked him. He had no memory of the incident, but to me it was a key turning point.

Paths of apology and Forgiveness

Criticism usually has a grain of truth (or sometimes a bushel)–so start by expressing thanks, even if it’s delivered nastily. Especially, then, because listening and appreciating is the only way you’re going to get into a positive outcome with someone who’s hostile. Listen, let them get their feelings out, acknowledge their feelings, meaningfully apologize for your action if that’s appropriate. And even if you don’t feel a need to apologize for the behavior or policy, apologize for upsetting them or making them feel unvalued. Don’t try to explain or justify your action yet. Just listen.And whatever you do, don’t say, “I’m sorry, but…”–that’s not an apology. Keep an ear out for the opportunity to take a specific step that will help, and offer, out loud, to take that step. That might just be informing them ahead the next time, or it might be completely undoing an action. You have to decide how much of the criticism is justified and figure out what the real issue is (which may not be the expressed issue).
Once the other person is done venting and you’ve apologized or de-escalated, you might (but might not) want to ask, “would you like to know why I did it that way? Maybe we could think together about how I could do it differently next time so both of our needs get met.” With this, you make them a partner in your growth, and you increase the likelihood of finding a viable solution for both of you, building a relationship of cooperation, not hostility. But you’re really asking. if they decline, drop it. They don’t want to be your partner in potentially changing their behavior, or maybe they are just tired of doing the work of educating others on an issue that is a sore spot for them.
Abundance thinking applies not just to stuff or lifestyle, but to relationships. This is a strategy to create abundance by welcoming even the nay-sayers. Not only do you get to build a relationship, you discover flaws in your thinking, planning, and action that you might not have seen and can now work around. Who knows–maybe your critics will even become your friends or your business partners.

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