When America’s executive office election was all over in late November 2024, I took a few days to wander around aimlessly and cry. Knowing what to do with myself could only be heard in depths of quiet. What next? Walking our family dog Bell early 7 30 a.m. I stayed longer on a back road strolling path, longer than the canine even voted for. She tugged at her leash to turn around and go back home. Morning free time was there. Already my teenager son Darien had gone for the day to a supportive local public middle school in Kapa'au, Hawai'i.

Yet I didn’t want to go back to our rental dwelling. Staying outdoors was a conscious path to circumnavigate any further rumors (sourcing real news at a stymie now) about America's current autocratic regime. This is a cultural moment for taking time to go interior and discover what I have for history's harmful flack. Seems clear to me that listening to mainstream political rumor mills imbalances my life and so I didn’t and I don’t.

Living far tropically rural means I can be awake to my adult life and decide not to have a newspaper delivered to the house front door, rarely turn on a national public radio news station, call the New York Times to decide on a stop, and elude social media—every platform invented. Imagine that. Parallel to these decisions, I refuse to opt out of political life. I wish to make a civic difference. The question remains then how will I go forth and sally?

A San Francisco Chinatown citizen walking on Kam Po’s sidewalk space.

Mindfulness helps because I am a big fan of breathing. Registering a steady inhale and exhale I was consciously enjoying before the waitress even brought over, and I picked up, the menu. Kam Po cafe in San Francisco has been plating roast duck at my service for 30 plus years. Nestled quite content at a window side table is where I be this time. A few altruistic zones away from my table sat the expediter, a skillful expert to carve, slice, ponder, and arrange any menu item. He does so wielding a meat cleaver on a seasoned butcher block sizing like one large suv tire. In this moment, I float over a few celebratory prayers watching quietly as he rested at a cafe table of his own, hand over his mouth, and working a toothpick classically.

Guessing I did he had just enjoyed comfort food or brief respite from a long work day. A quiet hum graced the cafe space and my capable waitress holding true to her short haircut (looks similar to my fashionable lezbo style) stomped over to refill the delicious jasmine tea served in a plastic cup. I might opt to not hear mainstream “news” and social media, but I love to listen to locals. What in the sweet goodness of all zany grace are we up to in time of intentional political chaos?

Hearing only Chinese spoken and being in mindfulness mode, I listened intently with my eyes open to the human ecosystem before me: customers laughing and smiling and bothering the expediter with food orders, his rest time long gone, swinging the cleaver strategically now. And I can still see the plate before me, healthy portion of roast duck sliced well, glistening in silky exterior fat while infused with five spice powder (anise, peppercorn, fennel, cloves, and cinnamon) I discovered on a few meaty forkfuls. On a Zen scale we hit the gong at a ten (yes, out of ten) and how grateful I was for my decades long dining experiences at Kam Po cafe.

When my monetary reckoning arrived, I stared at the $9 bill request (initially $5 thirty years ago, then $7 and now $9 several decades forward) and agreed the amount was fair. Breaking a $20 I asked my waitress (acting gloriously butch) for two fives and one dollar in return. Walking back to my table with the change, she stood close and barely reached her hand out before I returned to her a $5 bill. Her face went in a few directions—she usually has the feisty scowl working—until she gave in softly and smiled wide. At the expediter's glass barrier, I leaned over and handed him a $5 cash bill, too. He stared confused and then hastily grabbed the cash. Agreed upon smiles were exchanged that day laborers like us, workers among workers get with and for each other, and I had an extra cozy dose of grace in the moment. I don't live in San Francisco any more (just the two decades and some change for me), so visiting has mindful focus every specific day.

Yet is a superbly served roast duck meal a vote against the autocratic regime? Did I just go forth and sally? My political sensibility rings true. This San Francisco cafe experienced a joyful collaborative moment and upon these moments any democracy thrives. All our contradictory opposites could not keep we the people from establishing connection. How else does an ordinary roast duck cafe last for three decades? Bringing mindfulness to cultivate dignity can be a significant sally against current removals of basic human rights in America. While under autocratic rule, gathering to meet not for business as usual but because we still can. Sharing a heartfelt moment in a roast duck cafe appears to have a fighting chance, still.

On a recent brief sojourn to the Monterey Peninsula where my foo (family of origin) has blessed home ownership since 1972, my 8th grader son and his Mama appreciated 12 days on spring vacation. One roast duck afternoon in SF and other days spent lightly journeying across towns Monterey, Seaside, and Marina. On an afternoon car driving stroll, I saw in a window those magic words: Turkish coffee. Stepping inside International Market & Deli on Lighthouse Avenue in Monterey, I opted for being mindful again. No space here for a wide shopping cart being hurled swiftly through consumerist Target or Costco (where I go, too).

A boutique food store experience like this requires thoughtful spirit or conscious awareness. What I saw were foods arriving from Northern Africa and Southwest Asia countries: Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq to share a few. A few heartbeats happy I was when seeing hummus—true, in a can, and yet the odds for delicious were in any shopper's favor. International Market & Deli has such culinary detail. Carrying the one can (budget day she was), I almost arrived to the counter until we had a culinary snag when baklava was shelved so close. Two petite portions and now I was set.

One of hundreds intriguing foods shelved at International Market & Deli. Discover them at 580 Lighthouse Avenue, Monterey, 93940: 831 375 9451.

While she and I stood at the counter together, a woman dressed in hajib taught me that Iftar is the evening meal after fasting from sunrise to sunset. This daily commitment during Ramadan, February 28 until March 29, 2025, is when Americans who are Muslim practice an Islamic faith. A period of intentional fasting brings any human deep gratitude for abundance after. International Market & Deli's store owner, she also has a cafe a few blocks along on Lighthouse Avenue. Even while Iftar is familiarly a family gathering, she expressed empathy for individuals dining single and has portions prepared for the solo diner. In a few brief moments my world opened democratically. I didn't know what I didn't know and the process seemed casually enlightening. To celebrate new knowledge I traveled a few blocks in search of magic words. Once seated snugly at a cafe table, I ordered Turkish coffee. A few sugar sprinkles spooned and stirred to succeed at my work: going forth and sallying.

If our current political strife has many Americans on the defensive, what shall we do? Agreeably we can disagree that political conditions had been, even before the autocratic regime established power, working. In many ways they were not. But in exacerbated authoritarian times, a status quo approach will fail us further. The phrase defense mechanism implies holding strong to a current stance. Colloquial phrasing has a blame tone when saying, “She's so defensive.” Let's venture towards truth that being defensive, holding down the fort, and protecting our defense mechanisms are inept. We need a radical shift. Cannot we agree that the best defense is a strategic offense? Let's open new doors and walk right in, mindfully. In my own life, I plan to go forth and sally.

Intention has power to connect political allies, familiar and news one alike. Merriam-Webster's dictionary reminds us that to sally is “an action of rushing or bursting forth especially a sortie of troops from a defensive position to attack the enemy.” Military zeal placed aside (not the point), the word's gist teaches that during this era we take conscious, mindful action to participate civically—any damn gentle way possible. Our family intention is to travel across America from June 2025 through November 2025, visiting towns along the way and sallying forth simply to learn. What knowledge am I allowing diverse Americans to teach me? What I observed so far in a two week travel-trip from rural Hawai'i to Monterey Peninsula towns is civic strength, kindness empowering us living local.

During our family's exploratory time on the Monterey Peninsula, we visited high schools: Monterey, Seaside, and Marina. What magnificent changes high schools have acheived since I graduated from Monterey High School 40 years ago. An entire professional kitchen is open for student interns to evolve as culinary experts; adjacent is a sit down classroom format. A music studio equipped with modern technology appeared to have many thousands of dollars invested. A “classroom” that looked like an advanced healthcare facility where future doctors and nurses can begin a knowledge foundation. A makers space the size of a football field yet devoted to creativity has a wide open public forum in the center and a dozen dedicated rooms connecting, for a few students to convene, each room providing a screen to show ideas visually. These descriptions simply scratch the surface on what kinds of amazing I saw.

Inspired I was to witness democracy's cornerstone—public education—in a successful civic environment where American youth diversely have chances. Foundational to go forth and sally is witnessing work as creative learning for any age student. And reading the electronic bill board posted tall on the entry road to Monterey Peninsula Community College, the message was loud and clear. “MPC's Promise: full-time students attending two years for free.” Our chances to sally are well along reachable in many ways—if only we look.

Driving away slowly after the Marina High School tour and taking in the neighborhood, I had a quick recognition. Is that a foodie Korean focused boutique store? While strolling through Kim's Market, the narrow and ever-so-organized shelves graced with hundreds of Korean culinary varieties giving myself a half hour to peruse, I heard a loud car honk. Sounds like my teenager son's impatience, so I quickly purchased a Korean beef soup and ramen for our family. Despite my Mama door dash, I valued the store's shopping tone of patient kindness in a wave of foreign details. These food items had not been on my life radar before. I held up one bag and asked the store guru if these were dehydrated onions. To his credit, the elderly man did not guffaw. He read the Korean writing and clarified, “radish” and a bemused smile followed. Perusing the content label again, I saw the word radish written clearly in English. If only I had looked.

This corner store has an organized kitchen where three women in their 60s or 70s coordinated skillfully side by side cooking savory Korean pancakes. The entire store smelled fantastic, an aroma of grilled onion, soy sauce, and curry filtering through all the air vents. Grateful I felt in this mindfulness to live in my five senses so distinctly and also for the next intellect shift. What I stumbled upon was a Korean snack brand company called No Brand. Staring at a tall canister looking similar to a Pringles container except the black font read No Brand. And the slogan states that “the real value lies in the quality of the product and not in the brand name.” Whenever an idea zinger reaches my consumer consciousness, I am a happy shopper. In this aisle I considered No Brands options—myriad food products the company shelved—for a good while.

Many hundreds of foodie choices at Kim’s Market existing at 218 Reindollar Avenue, Marina, CA: 831 384 4765.

Discovering a world beyond my familiarity is an optimal sally. After growing up in Monterey from seven to 18 years old, once I was a graduated high school senior my plan was to leave town and fast. But returning over the decades I bring a changed perspective and imagine that. During this particular two week journey, I found soulful sustenance in Monterey Peninsula complex cultures—a rewarding political delve to connect consciously.

Will a plate of roast duck, a can of hummus, a brief visit to local high schools, an espresso Turkish coffee, or a can of No Brand ube potato chips be defense enough against an autocratic regime that appears bent on eroding American democracy? Who knows. Reason is that I am not asking that defensive question. The effort I bring is the sally, mindfully claiming my effort to learn how complex Americans continue to live dignity during these days.

Being mindful in the simplest moments many folks suggest is an energetic intention that goes on the offense in life, claiming compassion and respect as political. Check this out.

To put it another way, thought is creative. The thoughts you hold in

your mind, both conscious and unconscious, create what you see in

your life. Every thought has a certain vibration. It boomerangs back

to you according to its pitch, intensity, and depth of feeling. Your

thoughts show up in your life in proportion with their constancy,

intensity, and power.

Writer Pam Grout clarifies that intentional thoughts create a local reality in the immediate here and now, one she defines as infinite possibility in her book E squared: Nine Do-It-Yourself Energy Experiments That Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality (2013). That's a book marked address where I like to dwell.

Grout describes her neighbor's dog never going beyond an electrical fence that is invisible yet shocks the canine enough to stay put. “All of us are like that little Jack Russell—stuck in our invisible fences.” What can seem a frivolous magazine like Ladies Home Journal has seven million readers still. Grout wonders what would happen. Consider if all seven million asked “What can I do to improve my own soul? or How could I make the world more loving? the big problems we're so afraid of would be solved in a year. Seven million people concentrating on issues like that are an unstoppable force!” My democratic vote is that each and every one of us goes forth and sallies via mindful, intentional kindness thoughts. Even as a dictator ignores us, we continue sharing community moments together, a consciousness raising hello wherever we find ourselves at the SF Chinatown cafe, International Market in Monterey, a Korean food specialty store in Marina or any public education source of higher learning.

Let's not allow systemic impact—whether institutionalized or invisible like the electronic fence—to deter us all together. When you observe a public sidewalk, cement poured through workers salaried on local, state, and federal funding, a wild flower still cracks through. Growing she can. Systemic public sidewalks are helpful. Other systemic oppression in America is not. Symbolic growing our flowers is how we sally, an acronym for soul-assertive lifelong-learning, yes! One of many soul flowers that I grow is looking to history heroines like Audre Lorde who often stood before an audience owning her place: “I am a Black, lesbian, mother, warrior and poet doing my work, coming to ask you if you're doing yours.” Soul work takes courage, clearly—and basics in material comfort are well-enough support to go there. Simplicity is required actually because of Lorde's definitive conclusion. “For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.” Encouraging I am for all readers to purchase the $5 tract that houses five Lorde essays compiled as a Penguin Modern classic.

What the current autocratic regime works towards is flurry and furious distraction to blind us on soulful beauty, the moment each of us owns in consciously choosing to be kind to each other. Yet we only have to look and decide not to be blinded. Systemic oppression will continually work to remove our seeing clearly. "Such a system reduces work to a travesty of necessities, a duty by which we earn bread or oblivion for ourselves and those we love. But this is tantamount to blinding a painter and then telling her to improve her work, and to enjoy the act of painting. It's not only next to impossible, it is also profoundly cruel.” Lorde's words resonate today so skillfully. Let's refuse to be blinded by cruelty and instead witness our truest, kindest colors, collaborating to effect change in our every day local lives. Given the river of conscious thought all humanity shares, simply thinking a compassionate idea can enhance lives especially yours. Go forth and sally.