Power walking takes on a new meaning

What if every step you take  could power the future?

Imagine walking through your city , one and every step you take generates electricity. Thanks to kinetic energy technology, a single step can light a bulb for up to 20 seconds.

Envision this implemented across your train stations, sidewalks, and sports stadiums. With millions of footsteps every day, we could:

• Power lights and sensors
• Reduce strain on Tokyo's energy grid
• Transform human movement into a renewable energy source

Japan is experimenting with piezoelectric floor tiles in high-traffic spots like Shibuya and Tokyo Stations, where thousands of people pass through every day. This stepping technology is something I would love to see implemented in Australia!

This isn't science fiction. It's actually where behavioral science meets smart infrastructure. Every step becomes a step toward sustainability.

Could Tokyo lead the way as a global model for kinetic-powered cities? What do you think about this technology? What obstacles and concerns? What are pros and cons?

Leave your thoughts and comments below 👇

---

Join tens of thousands of others who have created their digital business cards for free and refer and connect communities using #referron

♻️ REPOST to inspire your community

And FOLLOW Ivan Kaye for more content like this

#Gamification #referron #refer #5cs. #connection #collaboration #warminrroductions #contribution #lifelonglearning #ai 

Time to change positions

changing positions?

It’s time to leave home

Hmmmm

Saying goodbye to a teenage daughter going to college 

Golf G-ds

A , B or C

A great name for a dog

Prescription for Cyanide !

When a woman walked into the pharmacy, her strides were purposeful, and her gaze fixed firmly on the pharmacist behind the counter. Without hesitation, she leaned in and said in an even, unwavering voice, “I need to buy some cyanide.”

The pharmacist froze, startled by the blunt request. “Excuse me?” he stammered. “Why would you possibly need cyanide?”

“To poison my husband,” she replied matter-of-factly.

His jaw nearly hit the counter. “What? Are you insane? Ma’am, I can’t just sell you cyanide! That’s illegal! If I did, I’d lose my license, we’d both go to jail—you do realize that, don’t you? Absolutely not! You can’t have any cyanide!”

The woman let out a long, exasperated sigh and reached into her handbag. Wordlessly, she retrieved a photograph and placed it on the counter. The picture clearly showed her husband in bed—with the pharmacist’s wife.

The pharmacist’s face drained of color as he stared at the damning evidence. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Finally, he cleared his throat and pushed the photo back toward her with a newfound air of calm.

“Well,” he said, his tone carefully measured, “you didn’t mention you had a prescription. That’s a different story.”

I Am the Jew who some tried to Erase

I am the Jew who was  expelled from Spain in 1492 — long before Columbus ever sailed the ocean blue.

I am the Jew who was  confined to the ghettos of Venice, taxed in France, beaten in Kiev, and humiliated in Poland.

I am the Jew who was  hunted across Europe — after Germany, after the camps, after the smoke cleared.

I am the Jew Stalin called a parasite. The one Churchill shook hands with, then sold out. The one America left stranded on Europe’s burning shores.

I am the child of the Jew who was  gassed. The one whose prayers were mocked. And whose rebirth in our ancestral homeland is now resented — because we dared to survive.

I am the Jew who did not disappear.

I am the Jew whose brothers and sisters in Israel walk with a Torah in one hand and a rifle in the other — not to impress you, but to remind you: we survived both the firing squad and the debate hall.

I am a proud Jew. A proud Zionist.

And for that — there are those that  hate me.

To the United Nations and every finger-wagging diplomat: don’t lecture us about “proportionality.”

The Torah says:

“If someone comes to kill you, rise early and kill him first.”

— Talmud, Berakhot 58a

I am proud to be the Jew your grandfather may have whispered about.

The one your teacher may have warned you not to trust.

The one Hitler tried to erase.

But guess what?

I didn’t vanish.

I survived Auschwitz.

I survived the British detention camps in Cyprus.

I survived Babylon, Rome, London, Oslo — and every exile you buried us in.

I survived the love letters to tyrants.

I survived the arms deals with genocidal regimes.

And that is why I am proud of my Israeli brothers and sisters -

Who are   not just survivors —but  witnesses

and now weapons.

Forged in exile.

Tempered in fire.

Sharpened by betrayal.

To those that know who you are 

I hear you chant for my death, then the complaints that I yelled too loudly when I lived.

I see you arming Hamas — and blaming me for the explosion.

You build statues of dead colonizers — and call us colonizers for returning home after 3,000 years.

But I am not afraid.

I am a loving Jew — but never mistake that for weakness.

I will dance at weddings and cry at funerals.

I will share and laugh at jokes and live and love life 

I will welcome you for Shabbat and pass you the salt.

I will help connect , collaborate , contribute and build communities 

But if you come for me or my people —

You’ll meet the fire that still burns in the Jewish soul.

We are the nation that lit candles through exile, through empire, through darkness — and still lights them every Friday night.

I am a proud Jew.

I am a proud Zionist.

And now you know exactly what kind of Jew you’re dealing with.

Am Yisrael Chai.

The People of Israel Live

Adapted from *I Am a Damn Jew—And I Am Pissed Off*

By Yonah Elias

May 21, 2025