Go Steady: Showing Up for No Kings with Care and Courage

To help you stay steady, clear, and connected today — so you can show up with purpose and hold your ground when it matters most.

Oct 18, 2025

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100 activists dressed as the Statue of Liberty demonstrate outside the US Embassy in London, to protest Trump’s first 100 days in power. (Amnesty International)

Dear friends

If you’re planning to attend a No Kings rally today, you’ve probably woken with some strong feelings stirring in you.

You may feel nervous, especially if your town leans conservative or you’re unsure how the day will unfold. That reaction is normal. Your body is doing what it was built to do — preparing you for something that could carry risk. The tightness in your chest or the restless energy in your stomach is your nervous system’s way of keeping you alert and out of harm’s way.

But when nervousness turns into anxiety, it can start working against you. Your senses heighten, but your judgment narrows. You begin scanning the crowd for danger instead of connection, reading neutral movements as threat, and second-guessing the people around you. That vigilance, left unchecked, spreads quickly through a group. When enough people are on edge, small misunderstandings can grow into panic.

Authorities understand this dynamic. They rely on tension to justify control. A crowd that looks uneasy is easier to intimidate; a single startled reaction can be framed as aggression. The more anxious the atmosphere, the easier it becomes to claim that the situation is unsafe and that force is necessary to restore order.

Steadying that nervous energy is a form of protection — for yourself and for everyone beside you. When you breathe, slow your pace, and stay connected to the people near you, you help the group hold its shape. Calm is not complacency; it’s the ground from which courage becomes sustainable. It allows you to stay alert without being driven by fear, and to keep sight of why you came in the first place.

You may feel angry. That too is a natural response. We’ve been told that democracy belongs to everyone, that fairness and accountability are its foundation, but over the past 10 months we’ve watched power become concentrated, laws being circumvented and broken, and truth being treated like an inconvenience. We’ve seen the people in authority act as though the rules no longer apply to them. Your anger is justified — it recognises the gap between what was promised to the American people and what’s being delivered. It’s a moral reaction to being lied to, dismissed, and used.

But when anger takes control at a rally, your focus slips. You stop thinking clearly and start reacting to what’s in front of you. Words become sharper, tempers shorten, and you become easier to agitate. What began as collective purpose then starts to splinter. Once that happens, rally organisers lose their ability to guide events.

That loss of control plays directly into the hands of those who want to discredit the movement. Authorities know that a single image of chaos carries far more weight than hours of peaceful protest. It allows them to frame the gathering as a threat to public order rather than a call for accountability. Media reports focus on police response and crowd behaviour, not on what drove people into the streets in the first place. When that happens, the story of violence becomes the headline, and the message itself fades from view.

Anger has a place — it shows that you still care about justice — but it cannot lead at a rally. When it does, clarity, safety, and strategy all weaken. Keeping that balance is what allows protest to hold its ground without losing its meaning. But when recognised and steadied, anger can sharpen your sense of purpose. It helps you name what matters and why you’ve chosen to show up.

Or you might yet feel a quiet sense of excitement. Perhaps you’ve always seen protests as moments of shared conviction. You’re looking forward to standing alongside others who see the same dangers in government you do, and to expressing that concern openly.

Excitement can be steadying when it’s grounded in purpose, but it can also tip into recklessness if left unchecked. The rush of collective energy, the chants, the noise, the movement — all of it can create a sense of invincibility. That feeling is powerful, but it can cloud awareness. You might overlook warning signs, misread instructions, or underestimate how quickly a peaceful crowd can shift tone.

Authorities know how to use that too. A crowd caught up in its own momentum can be nudged toward actions that later justify heavier policing or legal penalties. What feels like spontaneity in the moment can be reframed as provocation after the fact.

Settling that excitement doesn’t mean dulling it; it means holding it with care. When you stay aware of your surroundings, check in with the people near you, and keep your attention on the shared purpose that brought you there, that energy becomes something stronger than thrill. It becomes commitment — the kind that endures beyond the day itself.

All of these reactions — nervousness, anger, excitement — come from the same place. They are your body’s way of preparing for uncertainty. Noticing them, and learning to settle them before you step out the door, helps you stay grounded in what you’re there to do.

Step 1: Eat a grounding breakfast

Before you head out, make sure you’ve eaten something substantial. A protest can last hours, often without easy access to food or water, and adrenaline alone won’t sustain you. When your blood sugar drops, so does your capacity — you become tired, irritable, and more easily overwhelmed. A proper meal with protein, salt, slow-burning carbohydrates, and some fruit or vegetables gives your body steady energy and helps regulate stress hormones. It keeps you thinking clearly and your reactions measured. Protesting on an empty stomach might not seem serious, but it leaves you more vulnerable to fatigue, confusion, and panic if things become tense. Eating first is a simple way to keep your body and judgment on your side.

If you feel too nervous to eat right now, follow these steps to steady yourself, then come back round to it — but if you want to stay steady and grounded, please don’t leave without something substantial and sustaining in your stomach.

Step 2: Breathe

Spend 5 to 10 minutes of slow deep breathing — Ujjayi breath, if you’re familiar with it. It’s known as the ‘victorious breath,’ a way to steady the body and quiet the mind. It’s my absolute go to in stressful times. Or you might like to try alternate nostril breathing, which is simple to do right off the bat. You’ll find instructions in my post 3 Fast-Acting Tools to Help You Tackle Overwhelm.

Step 3: Orient

In Tuesday’s post, How to Prepare to Protest When You Already Feel Worn-Out, I asked you to begin with intention — the quiet act of remembering what you are protecting today. You named the principles guiding your action today, whether that’s fairness, care, dignity, the right to live without fear, or something else of value to you. And you found an object to hold that meaning, something small and ordinary enough to carry with you through the day.

Now, we take that intention into the work ahead.

Once you step into the protest space, the pace changes. What felt grounded and clear as you prepared yourself can blur under sound, movement, and emotion. The crowd carries its own rhythm — the noise, the pressure, the weight of shared purpose. It’s easy to lose your footing in that current and forget what steadied you at home.

Take a moment now to pause long enough to return to the principles you chose earlier in the week. These aren’t abstractions. They are the foundation for how you move, speak, and respond today. Give them a moment to settle, and they will help you hold your focus. Remember that protest isn’t only about opposition, but about defending what still holds.

Take a minute to stand or sit still, feeling your weight through your feet, and noticing your breath. Nothing needs to change — only your awareness that you are here, about to join others in an act of public care and protection. That awareness is what steadies you. It’s what lets you meet the day with composure instead of reaction.

Hold the object you chose — the stone, the ribbon, the coin, the scrap of fabric — letting it remind you of what you are there to defend today. This is your practical reminder, something solid to bring you back to your purpose if the day grows loud or tense.

When you’re ready, put it somewhere easy to reach — your pocket or bag. You may not need to touch it again, but knowing it’s there helps you stay anchored. It links your preparation with your action, your calm with the movement around you. If the noise or confusion begins to pull you off balance, it gives you a way back.

Step 4: If you need more

I wrote this practice for June’s No Kings protest. Afterwards, readers shared what it offered them:

Thank you. I am going to use this technique to restore my strength, maintain my balance, and re-center myself.

I practiced tonglen as I read your essay. I find myself somewhat calmed. I became aware of how my own grief and fear and anger of late have been mostly self-centered. Not that there’s anything unusual about that. It is natural to grieve and resent things that have been painful and frightening.
However, this served as a reminder that to be a whole human we must deeply experience each other’s feelings. It was a course-correction that I needed and am taking to heart.

What beautiful words, hope and power you give us today. Thank you.

I hope it gives you something similar — a way to come back to yourself, to steadiness, and to the quiet knowledge that you’re not alone in wanting the world to hold together.

Tonglen — Breath for Resistance

Inhale:
Breathe in overwhelm —
the noise, the urgency,
the weight of too much happening all at once.

Exhale:
Breathe out unwavering steadiness.
The kind that anchors you in the storm.
The kind that does not flinch, does not fold.
The kind that holds the centre — no matter what comes.

Inhale:
Breathe in fear —
of being seen,
of being targeted,
of what might be waiting.

Exhale:
Breathe out sacred resolve.
Rooted in justice.
Sharpened by truth.
Sustained by the unshakable belief that we are all equal, and all worthy of freedom.

Inhale:
Breathe in outrage —
at the daily desecration of truth,
at cruelty disguised as policy,
at one man dressing himself in honour.

Exhale:
Breathe out fierce compassion.
The kind that does not look away.
The kind that shields without hardening.
The kind that burns clean and loves without apology.

Inhale:
Breathe in grief —
for what seems lost,
for who has been taken,
for the world that should be being built.

Exhale:
Breathe out Divine love.
The foundation of hope when all feels lost.
The force that finds a way where there seems to be none.
The power that makes change possible — when nothing else can.

Repeat this practice as many times as you need, each breath anchoring you deeper in your strength, your resolve, and your purpose.

Let it steady you. Let it remind you of what you are fighting for.

And finally, this is my prayer for all who are protesting today — wherever you are, however you choose to show up. I am unable to stand with you in person, but I am with you in this work — in every steady breath, every act of courage, every hand that reaches for another. May you stay safe, hold your ground, and know that you are seen. What you carry matters, and you do not carry it alone.

May you be fierce,
with a fire that refuses to be dimmed by fear.

May you be steady,
rooted like trees that have weathered storms before.

May you be ready—
not just for what comes,
but for who you are when it comes.

May your voice be clear in the noise,
your purpose sharp in the fog,
and your love louder than their lies.

May you stay safe,
alert but unafraid,
guided by the wisdom that keeps courage alive.

May you protect each other like kin,
stand like those who came before,
and carry hope like a shield.

May no king claim your silence,
no tyrant claim your truth,
and no parade drown out the drumbeat of freedom.

When you feel ready, step into the world with this quiet power, knowing that your presence — grounded, clear, and unwavering — is itself an act of resistance.

In solidarity, as ever

— Lori