Finding the Funny and the Beauty in Being a Feature and Not a Bug

Driving Change, One Mile at a Time

I thought sharing with you my responses to Kirthi's surprising and super welcome email. "I'm honored to share that the World Pulse team has selected your project for a Featured Initiative Award for "It's Getting Hot in here, Earth!" CONGRATULATIONS!" just might give you an insight to achieving the same for your own initiatives. Heads up: marathon read ahead - 4000 words.

What inspired you to create your project?

Picture this: I'm sitting in my bedroom in Alaska, watching Grewingk Glacier recede 98 feet every single year. That's nearly the length of a basketball court—disappearing annually right outside my window like some geological magic trick, except instead of "ta-da!" it's more like "ta-gone!"

I kept asking myself, "What more can I do?" The answer came in the form of a completely reasonable, totally sane idea: drive across the continental United States TWICE in an electric vehicle to show Americans that EVs aren't just viable—they're the future. I walked twice as far across the country eleven years earlier in the Great March for Climate Action, but in 1/3 the time. At 67, I've decided efficiency is my new superpower.

The beauty of it? I gave myself two weeks' notice before leaving Alaska. Two weeks! People take longer to plan a weekend camping trip. In that whirlwind, I reached out to Rotary Clubs, TED and TEDx organizers, and friends and family along my route. Sometimes the best adventures start with a glacier's retreat and a great-granny saying, "Hold my Egyptian Licorice Tea, I'm going on a roadtrip while my family implodes."

Why is this initiative important to you?

When I look at the faces of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I see the stakes clearly. The future of livable conditions on Earth is being shaped right now—not tomorrow, not next decade, but in this very moment—by how we respect & love all our relations: humans, plants, animals, elements, and yes, ourselves (even when ourselves undercharge overnight and has to add an hour to the morning, which never makes my 84-year-old husband happy when I'm supposed to be helping with his bladder cancer recovery).

This isn't just about climate science or technology. It's about honoring the interconnected web that sustains us all. Every action we take ripples through this web, and I want those ripples to be ones of healing, not harm. Also, I really like having ice caps. Call me old-fashioned. Call me surviving. Call me slightly insane for doing this while my pregnant daughter-in-law is in and out of emergency rooms, but don't call me a quitter.

How does your initiative plan to reach its goal of impacting individuals?

I'm on a 13,444+ mile EV roadtrip that's part demonstration, part conversation starter, part love letter to this beautiful planet, part peace-seeking fully-connecting planet-keepers participating politically, part family crisis management center on wheels, and part test of how many times one person can say "Yes, it really does go that far on one charge!" while simultaneously texting updates about a two-year-old who isn't speaking yet but is VERY capable of creating chaos. Here's how I'm spreading the message:

Speaking at Rotary Clubs across the country, engaging with community leaders who understand the power of service above ourselves (and who graciously overlook my questionable parking skills in their lots and the fact that I'm sometimes running on three hours of sleep because I was on a family health crisis Zoom call at 2 AM)

Promoting and hosting WE Rotary Club of International Peace every other week, connecting Peace and Earth Keepers while literally driving between meetings; I enjoy multitasking at Olympic levels

Participating in TED and TEDx events, sharing ideas worth spreading about our climate future (and trying not to fall asleep mid-Talks despite marathon driving days)

Social media storytelling on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and YouTube, bringing people along on the journey mile by mile—as much as I have energy for between marathon driving days when my brain turns to road-trip mush and I can barely remember which state I'm in

Groundbreaking research presentation: On October 23, I presented original Climate Coaching research at the International Coaches Federation Annual Conference CONVERGE in San Diego. Our session, "Breaking Ground, Exploring the Landscape of Climate Coaching," introduced this emerging field to professional coaches worldwide. View the presentation here. Spoiler: People cried. In a good way. I also may have cried, but that might have been exhaustion.

Every conversation, every presentation, every person who sees my EV and thinks, "Maybe I could do that too"—that's impact multiplying. Also, every person who stops me at charging stations to ask if I'm lost. (I'm not lost, I'm FIRST. There's a difference. Who's next?)

How does your initiative ensure community participation?

Community participation isn't just welcome—it's woven into the fabric of this journey like fruit juice dribbles on my Climate March t-shirt (don't judge, I was driving). Everywhere I go, I invite people to participate in a national art project I call "Note To Self: America's Finer Future." After we talk about the advantages of EVs (yes, including the one where you never smell like gasoline and the one where your car makes fart sounds when I turn—Tesla's idea of humor), I hand them a satin ribbon and ask them to write the finer future they want to see.

So far, I've collected about 400+ ribbons—400 visions of hope, 400 commitments to change, 400 pieces of evidence that people DO care when you give them a chance to express it. And I'm not done yet! Still ahead: Atlanta from DC, then on to Boston, Denver, Phoenix, Albuquerque, and San Diego. Imagine what we'll have created together by journey's end—a tapestry of intention spanning the entire country, possibly also doubling as America's most meaningful craft project and proof that I can keep track of something other than finding the next Supercharger during this circus.

Speaking of which, let me tell you about last night my niece and I sat at a Super charger near the Christian Liberty University for 16 minutes listening to my Tesla make fart noises (again, Tesla's sense of humor) and we laughed so hard I peed my black tights. SIXTEEN MINUTES of continuous farting sounds. This is cutting-edge technology, people. This is the future. And it's hilarious.

The Climate Coaching research connects professional coaches with tools to support their clients through climate anxiety and into climate action. By training coaches, we're creating community multipliers—people who can guide hundreds of others toward meaningful engagement with our climate reality (and who won't just pat their clients on the head and say "It's OK." It is NOT OK responding at this pace. We need to crank it up quick, like yesterday quick, like my-family-is-having-multiple-medical-emergencies-and-I'm-still-out-here-doing-this quick).

On social media, I'm encouraging followers to share their own climate actions, creating a chorus of voices rather than a solo performance. And I'm open to connecting with local environmental groups, schools, and community organizations virtually post-roadtrip. This journey is a rolling invitation: hop in, share your story, add your voice, write your ribbon, and try not to judge my snack choices or the fact that I'm coordinating family moving logistics from Alaska to California for healthcare while simultaneously trying to find charging stations in obscure places that may or may not exist.

Can you share any success stories from your initiative?

Oh honey, WHERE DO I START? Let's begin with Dear Deer Dawn Long Gone.

Three hours into a 47-hour co-piloted section—the FIRST TIME I invited someone else to take the wheel to share the really long days of driving from East Coast Charleston, South Carolina to West Coast San Diego—an indecisive deer committed deericide by running into Rouge (my red Tesla Model 3). Just bam right into us at 1:15 in the darkest of mornings. The deer apparently didn't get the memo about EVs being the future. The deer is fine (we hope she ran off). Rouge has some battle scars-mirror, headlamp covervarious dents, a driver door that makes an uber loud cranking sound. My co-pilot? Adding "deer negotiation skills" to her resume after screaming repeatedly yelling "Stay on the Road. Stay on the Road." Me? Woke and traumatized. Staying on the road.

But here's where the rubber meets the road—literally! Before the current administration dropped the EV incentive on September 30th (thanks for that timing, Mr. T—and I don't mean the A-Team guy), five people told me directly that our conversations inspired them to purchase new or used EVs.

Now, five may sound modest to some people. Those people are wrong and probably drive gas guzzlers. Here's the thing: this is EXACTLY how transformation begins. It's not some Marvel movie where everyone suddenly gets superpowers and saves the world in two hours. It's slower. It's person-to-person. It's real. It's me keeping meticulous track of charging costs compared to gas prices while my pregnant daughter-in-law is having infusions (no gallbladder, no appendix, all cheery energy-drained drama) and facetiming my wild toddler grandson who refuses to speak but communicates exclusively in chaos.

Think about it: I'm one great-granny with an EV, a vision, questionable taste in roadtrip podcasts, and a family situation that would make a soap opera writer say "that's too much." Those five drivers? They're now five more voices showing their friends, family, and neighbors that electric vehicles aren't some distant future fantasy—they're parked in their driveways right now, quietly judging their neighbor's gas guzzler. Each of those five will influence dozens more. The ripple becomes a wave becomes a tide becomes a really inconvenient situation for fossil fuel executives, and I am HERE FOR IT ALL.

I've watched Rotarians who thought EVs were impractical become curious about range and charging infrastructure (and then realize their daily commute is like 12 miles and they've been overthinking this). Meanwhile, I'm out here driving HUNDREDS of miles a day, managing family crises via Facetime, and still finding charging stations in places so obscure Google Maps gets confused. Some charging stations are like finding the golden egg in an Easter Egg Hunt—that final dance between buildings reveals the red and white chargers and you want to weep with joy. Others are in locations that make you think you're about to become a true crime podcast episode.

I've seen social media followers document their own first steps toward climate action—installing solar panels, starting community gardens, or simply having brave conversations with their families about climate change instead of pretending Uncle Bob's rant about "weather cycles" is scientifically sound. Speaking of which, can we talk about Conservative Republicans denying climate change? I've sat through SO MANY conversations where people repeat fake facts to me with such confidence, such absolute certainty, and I'm standing there like "sir, I watched a glacier disappear from my bedroom window, but please tell me more about how this is all natural cycles."

The ICF presentation was particularly moving. Coaches approached me afterward with tears in their eyes, saying they'd felt isolated trying to support clients through climate grief. Now they have a framework, a community, and permission to bring this urgent work into their practice. Also, they hugged me. A lot. It was beautiful and slightly overwhelming, especially when I was also fielding texts about my husband's medical appointments (he's 84, recovering from bladder cancer, and not currently capable of making decisions, which is SUPER FUN when you're a quarter of a planet away from home).

And my personal favorite: a great-grandfather in his eighties stopped me at a charging station to ask about my journey. By the end of our conversation, he was researching EVs for himself, saying, "If you can drive one across the country twice while your life is falling apart, I can surely drive one around town."

That's the magic—one conversation, one ribbon, one great-grandparent, one family crisis, one deer collision, one fart-noise charging session at a time. We're basically the Avengers, but with better mileage, way more sensible shoes, and significantly more complicated family dynamics.

How can World Pulse members support your efforts?

Your voices can amplify this message in beautiful and practical ways (also loud ways and financial ways, because I'm financing this entire escapade personally and my bank account is crying):

Share broadly—post about this journey on your social platforms and help the ripples reach farther shores. Tag me. Tag your mom. Tag that friend who keeps talking about getting an EV "someday." Make their someday today. Make some noise.

Participate in my GoFundMe to help cover roadtrip costs (coming soon after I calculate the total damage—I mean, total costs!). Y'all, I'm keeping spreadsheets of charging costs vs. gas prices while coordinating international family moves. I need help. Calling all climate conscious accountants.

If you own a car and your country has charging stations, explore transitioning to an EV. Your next vehicle could be electric. It could also be red like Rouge. I don't judge colors, only emissions (and deer that run into moving vehicles).

Encourage women business owners, influencers, and executives to join my 3-day training January 22-24—an intensive dive into climate-aware leadership and resilience (climate doom optional, family drama not included but possibly inevitable)

Connect me with community groups in your areas who might want to host online conversations (I promise to be interesting, funny, sincere, and slightly inspiring, and I might accidentally share a family crisis update mid-presentation but that just makes it real and raw and resonant)

Share your own climate stories—we need a tapestry of voices, not just one thread. Also, tapestries are way more interesting than solo acts and give us all permission to be messy humans doing our best.

If you're a coach or work with coaches, help spread the word about Climate Coaching as an emerging, vital field (like Jane Fonda's workout videos in the 80s, but with more existential urgency and less lycra)

Write your own virtual Note To Self when I get it set up online (it's coming, I promise, I'm just very busy driving and managing approximately 47 life situations simultaneously)

Start conversations in your own communities about EVs, renewable energy, and honoring all our relations (warning: may cause family dinner awkwardness, proceed anyway, listen copiously, try not to scream when someone repeats Fox News talking points verbatim)

Financial gratitude moment: Massive thanks to the copilots and their friends and families who provided places to stay. Y'all kept me from sleeping in my car and I love you forever.

What kinds of connections are you looking for to help your efforts?

I'm seeking connections with bold souls ready to invest in their own resilience and resonance (also people with money, let's be honest, because I'm personally financing this thing and it turns out saving the planet costs - though compared to flying way less):

Lawyers, accountants, executives, business owners, creatives, and coaches who are ready for deep climate work—folks ripe for my climate coaching, adapting and activating program. Yes, it's intense. Yes, it's worth it. No, you cannot pay in installments of good intentions or thoughts and prayers. Plugged IN, ChargedUP! on January 22-24 will only cost $47.

Community organizers and grassroots leaders ready to energize local climate conversations (bring your megaphones, your passion, and your sense of humor because we're gonna need all three)

Media contacts interested in covering this cross-country journey and its ripple effects (I'm very quotable, only moderately camera-shy, and come with built-in drama—family medical crises, deer collisions, you name it)

Coaches and helping professionals curious about integrating climate awareness into their work (because pretending the planet isn't on fire while doing wellness coaching feels... incomplete and kind of ridiculous)

Indigenous leaders and wisdom keepers who understand that honoring all our relations isn't new—it's ancient wisdom we desperately need to remember (and who probably think it's hilarious that it took us this long and that we're acting like we invented it)

Young climate activists who remind us that urgency and hope can coexist (and who have better TikTok skills than I do and can probably teach me how to not look like a self taught granny on social media)

Women business owners, influencers, and content creators serious about climate-aware leadership (serious, but also fun—we can be both, we can laugh while we work, we can pee our tights at charging stations laughing at TESLA turn signal fart sounds and still change the world)

Corporate boards interested in climate-aware governance—I bring four decades of environmental board service across Alaska, Colorado, and California (translation: I've seen some things, I know some things, I'm not afraid to speak truth to power, and I've navigated bureaucracy that would make your head spin)

Anyone with a platform willing to amplify the message that individual action, collective action, and systemic change are all necessary—and all possible (platforms include: podcasts, stages, Instagram accounts with more than 47 followers, town halls, dinner tables, family group chats where Uncle Bob needs some facts)

Is there anything else you want to add that I didn't ask you?

Oh HONEY. Buckle up because I have THOUGHTS.

Here's what they don't tell you about being a climate pioneer while your entire life is simultaneously falling apart: When you're being first, remember to find the funny. Because if you don't laugh, you'll cry, and crying fogs up your windshield which is a safety hazard, and you need clear visibility when deer are contemplating suicide by Tesla.

This journey isn't about perfection—it's about direction. And sometimes that direction involves:

An indecisive deer potentially committing deericide three hours into your first co-piloted marathon drive

Running low on charge and discovering that not all charging stations are created equal (some are basically gas stations without the gasoline smell—nice! Others are in parking lots behind sketchy buildings where you're pretty sure you're about to star in a true crime podcast)

Finding chargers in obscure places where you do a little victory dance when you finally locate them

Keeping meticulous spreadsheets of charging costs vs. gas prices because DATA MATTERS, people

Managing family health crises from the road: pregnant daughter-in-law in and out of emergency rooms, 84-year-old husband recovering from bladder cancer and not capable of making decisions, two-year-old grandson who refuses to speak but communicates exclusively in toddler chaos

Coordinating an entire family move from Alaska to California for better healthcare while literally driving across the country - thanks largely to my son McKenzy on site making it all come together

Hosting biweekly WE Rotary Club meetings connecting Peace and Earth Keepers while parked at rest stops

Financing this entire escapade personally while watching your bank account slowly weep

Communicating with copilots about everything from route planning to "no seriously, we need to stop NOW" - too much coffee for them

Sitting at charging stations listening to your Tesla make fart noises for 16 minutes straight with your niece until you both laugh so hard you pee your black tights

Nodding politely while Conservative Republicans explain climate change denial to you with absolute confidence, repeating fake facts they heard on talk radio, while you internally scream because YOU WATCHED A GLACIER DISAPPEAR but sure, Bob, it's all natural cycles

Pro tip: Always have a backup plan, a good sense of humor, extra tights, and snacks. Especially snacks. Road rage is just hunger in disguise. Also, bladder management is a skill. Plan accordingly.

Here's my mantra for the road and for life: Feel. Think. Move. Celebrate. And for the love of glaciers that are still with us, LAUGH A LOT. Laugh at yourself. Laugh at the absurdity of a great-granny driving 13,444+ miles to prove a point while her life resembles a telenovela. Laugh at the deer. Laugh at the Tesla fart noises (because seriously, Elon, what were you thinking?). Chuckle with the people who think you can't make it to the next town. Grin while you prove them wrong. Giggle when you realize you've been having an intense conversation about climate science with someone at a charging station while covered in road-trip crumbs and probably looking like a chaos muppet.

I'm not claiming to have all the answers or to be living a zero-impact life. (I ate fast food fries along the way. Twice. Maybe three times. Okay, more than that. The irony is not lost on me.) I'm claiming something more important: I'm showing up. I'm trying. I'm willing to be uncomfortable, to learn, to course-correct, and to giggle at myself when I plug into the charger and don't see the light turn from blue to green indicating electrons are flowing, while a bunch of Tesla bros watch from their cars like I'm performance art. (Spoiler: I am. We all are. Life is performance art.)

Take breaks. Have fun while modeling the change you want to see. Be creative, inclusive, and original. If you're not enjoying at least parts of this climate journey, you're doing it wrong. This isn't martyrdom—it's a movement. Movements should move you. They should also occasionally make you dance in parking lots when a good song comes on, make you laugh until you cry (or pee), and remind you that we're doing something unprecedented and important and ridiculous all at once.

And here's what I want every World Pulse member to know: You don't need to drive across the country twice to make a difference. (Though if you want to, call me, we'll caravan. I have tips about which rest stops have the best coffee.) You don't need to have your life fall apart while you save the planet. (Though apparently that's my path and I'm committed now.)

You need to look out your own window, see what's calling to you—your own personal "receding glacier"—and ask yourself, "What more can I do?"

Then do that thing. And tell your story. Write for World Pulse about your experience so others can see progress happening. Write about the obstacles—the deer, the family crises, the misinformation, the charging stations in weird places, the financial strain, the moments when you want to give up. Write about the solutions—the laughter, the community, the ripples, the ribbons, the coaches who cried and hugged you, the five people who bought EVs, the great-grandfather who said "if she can do it."

Make it super funny and wise, because we desperately need both. The climate movement has plenty of doom and gloom—what we're short on is joy and absurdity and great-grannies doing unreasonable things with electric vehicles while their lives implode in spectacular fashion and they KEEP GOING ANYWAY.

We're all connected—humans, plants, animals, elements, deer with poor decision-making skills, and ourselves—and every story of care and courage (and occasional comedic mishap involving charging cables, dignity, wet tights, and family drama) gives someone else permission to begin their own adventure.

Earth is asking something of us. Not sacrifice, but reciprocity. Not perfection, but participation. Not solemnity, but joy in the doing. Not Instagram-perfect climate activism, but real, messy, hilarious, heartbreaking, hope-filled, deer-dodging, family-crisis-managing, fart-noise-laughing, tights-peeing, glacier-watching, ribbon-collecting action.

Let's answer together—with hope in our hearts, ribbons in our hands, possibly some crumbs, definitely some family drama in our texts, and absolutely with the knowledge that we're doing something important even when (especially when) it feels completely bananas.

Feel. Think. Move. Celebrate. And for crying out loud, LAUGH.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have several thousands of more miles to drive, a family to coordinate from the road, a WE Rotary meeting to host from a TED NEXT final night celebration party, some Conservative Republicans to nod politely at while they explain weather cycles to me, and a whole country full of people who need to see that the future is electric, possible, chaotic, and so much lovelier than they thought.

See you on the road! More to come...

P.S. - If you see a red Tesla with some deer damage and a slightly manic great-granny at the wheel who looks like she hasn't slept in three months more than 4 hours a night and is possibly covered in snack crumbs, that's me. Wave. Share your story. Write your ribbon. And for the love of all that is beautiful, if you're a deer, STAY OFF THE ROAD. If you are a human, STAY ON THE ROAD - electrically.