The Kind Point August 4, 2026

HONK-N-WAVE

Hi! I'm Jeff, if you're reading this, it's because I view you as someone I'd want to sit down over matcha and chat about life with. I'll be sending this newsletter out every few weeks or so. If it's not your jam, feel free to unsubscribe, I won't be offended!

But does this really make a difference?

I regularly had that thought as my husband Terry and I walked the ten blocks to a large intersection near our home.

Last summer, a couple who lived four houses down put flyers in everyone’s mailboxes, brightly colored paper that asked, “Are you okay with the crackdown on immigrants? On voter suppression? Are you okay with who the sitting president is? We’re not. Would you be interested in meeting in our backyard to talk about it?”

We went to the gathering. Instead of the rant-fest I was dreading, the couple put together a well-planned, thoughtful evening.

We went back for a second meeting. And a third. We formed a neighborhood group, a subset of the larger Indivisible/No-Kings movement. In November 2025, our group started gathering every Saturday with printed signs, and a lot of moxie, to protest the current administration. It's our weekly "Honk-n-Wave."

At first, our numbers rarely surpassed twenty, until Renée Good and Alex Pretti were murdered. We swelled to over three hundred, then settled back to a consistent one hundred fifty.

Initially our printed signs were mostly snarky. Puns, f-bombs, cartoons. Many of them still are. But a few months back we decided to change our messaging to a focus on midterm voting and immigration rights, with an eye toward the kind of democracy we hoped to rebuild.

Ninety-five percent of the people who drive by on Saturdays honk their horns and raise their fists in solidarity, while the other five percent give us the middle finger.

I confessed to my friend Shannon Kelly that I worried the Honk-n-Wave was much ado about nothing. In town for a few weeks, Shannon decided to join us at our Saturday protest.

She surprised me with a story. One day when she and other members of her spiritual community were rushing around in a tizzy, trying to get all the details right for an upcoming ritual, their teacher barked orders at them. Baba wasn’t happy with the progress. Caught up in the panic, Shannon rushed to and fro, until Baba gave her a wink, telling her that none of it really mattered.

Shannon thought to herself, ‘Then why in the living hell are we doing all of this?’

Shannon’s story shook me in the best way possible.

If I had to run around arranging flowers for a ritual, I would definitely feel one hundred percent entitled to a better connection with God. Baba basically said that there were no guarantees. Maybe it would never happen. But arranging flowers just so is something quite beautiful, and it’s a way to give your mind a break from its fits of fretting and worrying.

I realized I felt entitled to specific results from the Honk-n-Waves: unregistered voters getting off their butts and registering; MAGA citizens seeing the flaws in their opinions and getting on board with ending fascism.

Why else go to all the trouble?

Here's the thing: Sometimes we sign up for something expecting a specific set of benefits or outcomes. Instead, something else happens. Some other miracle.

Terry and I can report that our minds get a break from the doom-and-gloom news cycle for one hour every Saturday.

It’s a chance to stand shoulder to shoulder with over one hundred people, shouting a collective, “No!” to the firmament.

And most importantly? Without intention or much of a plan, we've created a little community, a set of regulars who show up with their signs and hearts and hopes. There's some political discussion, but mostly the chat is more along the lines of "How was your daughter's wedding?" or "Have you picked any ripe tomatoes yet?"

I doubt anyone in the White House hears our protests. Not sure if God does, either. And maybe that part doesn’t matter.

But I do. I hear them. And while I know that the hour on Saturday doesn’t replace all the other things we need to create change, it does my heart and soul some good. It's a kind thing to offer myself, a piece of self-care that lowers my blood pressure and connects me with like-minded neighbors. If I can change my outlook or take a pause from my knee-jerk reactivity, I can be more available.

That's difference enough for me.

Something Kind

What I'm Reading ​ What I'm Reading ​The Devotion of Suspect X​ by Keigo Higashino My book club just finished The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino. It's a fascinating crime procedural, where the reader discovers from the get-go who committed the murder, and the rest of the novel is basically about whether the detectives will solve the crime or be stumped. Higashino delves into the nuances of devotion, and how it can be noble, creepy, short-sighted, a good Samaritan act, and prideful all at once. Consumer warning: there is a fair amount of back-and-forths re: testing out alibis. Our club agreed that the middle section gets bogged down in minutiae, but felt that the level of detail was worth it to carry the book to its surprising end. Bring some stamina, and my guess is you'll enjoy the read. ​ ​Note: I learned of Keigo's recent passing. My condolences to his family and friends. ​Buy it here​

What I'm Watching ​mackenziebiehl​ An inspiring video! Who knew you could fold a dinner napkin like a witch's hat! ​Watch it here​

What I'm Planning ​The Kind Lab​ ​Returning this fall! The Kind Lab is an ongoing virtual workshop series for coaches, facilitators and purpose-driven leaders who want to show up with more intention, depth, and kindness – without compromising impact. ​ When: 4pm PT / 7pm ET on select Wednesdays. ​ Session 1: September 9, 2026 Session 2: October 7, 2026 Session 3: November 4, 2026 Session 4: December 2, 2026 Session 5: January 20, 2027 ​Register here​

What I'm Planning ​Coaches' BBQ​ ​October 23, 2026 Expect a self-led, attendee-directed experience where folks can lead coaching segments they’re most interested in, or join in the convo with their spell books open. Just like at other neighborhood haunts, these conversations could run for an hour or might be just a ten-minute catch-up. Costumes optional, good conversation mandatory. ​Register here​