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March 2026: the power of your money

Each month, we break down our topic into four weekly modules. Catch up on previous editions here.​

This week's module: REFLECT

• ✅ CONNECT | Dream about a future where money looks different​
• ✅ LEARN | Let's talk about consumer power (and lack thereof)​
• ✅ ACT | Actions to make your money powerful (but like, for the Earth and for good stuff)​
• 🎯 REFLECT | Art, poetry, and commitments

Estimated reading time: 1 minute

Here's what we'll learn today Reader

Later this week, I'm about to go on an international vacation. I gotta get packing for that soon + schedule out the next few Changeletters, so no further spiel from me today.

My main priority (only priority) is to get you to scroll down and read the poem that wraps up our power of money theme for March 2026.

When you read it at first, it may not be obvious why I chose it, and to be honest, I don't know if I can fully articulate it.

It's just... every concept we've talked about this month, about the stuff we do/don't buy, about the expenses that weigh us down, about community resilience and economic justice--it seems tied up in this beautiful poem.

You may be with me or you may roll your eyes and say that's a stretch Nivi!!

but remember, you can always reply back with stuff you want me to share in future Changeletters as long as it's on theme!

(Next month, we're going to be talking about corporate accountability so get that lil thinkbox of yours spinning.)

But for now, a poem to wrap up our month. As always, catch up on previous weeks above!

Your bite-sized action plan Reader

REFLECT on the intersection of money, economic power, and community resilience through this poem.

The Raincoat

By Ada Limón

When the doctor suggested surgery
and a brace for all my youngest years,
my parents scrambled to take me
to massage therapy, deep tissue work,
osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine
unspooled a bit, I could breathe again,
and move more in a body unclouded
by pain. My mom would tell me to sing
songs to her the whole forty-five-minute
drive to Middle Two Rock Road and forty-
five minutes back from physical therapy.
She’d say that even my voice sounded unfettered
by my spine afterward. So I sang and sang,
because I thought she liked it. I never
asked her what she gave up to drive me,
or how her day was before this chore. Today,
at her age, I was driving myself home from yet
another spine appointment, singing along
to some maudlin but solid song on the radio,
and I saw a mom take her raincoat off
and give it to her young daughter when
a storm took over the afternoon. My god,
I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her
raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel
that I never got wet.

Upcoming Soapbox events

We have WEEKLY events in Seattle AND in Portland! Both are on Tuesday evenings, same time, same place. In addition, we have a bunch of virtual events, community events, and other shenanigans.
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​Our entire events calendar for ALL locations + virtual can be found here.