Walk For Peace

This essay was written by Nancy Dunlop, Ph.D.

They’re simply called, “the monks.” They number anywhere from 19-24 monks at any given time. And all they are doing is walking. That’s it. So far, they’ve walked through Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina. They are currently making their way through Virginia, then on to Maryland, and finally, Washington D.C. Their walk will total 2,300 miles. They began Oct. 26 and intend to reach D.C on Feb. 10. All told, 110 days. They walk over 20 miles a day. A little dog named Aloka walks with them.

There are times when they are followed by tens of thousands of people and elaborate

police escorts. But there are periods when they are alone, walking for miles on

highways or residential streets, where just a small handful are gathered. When asked why they walk, the monks say, they are walking for peace. That’s all. They wish to send the message of peace, loving-kindness, and compassion (for oneself and others). And they want people to be happy because of these things. And they mean business. This journey is physically grueling. In warm states, they often walked barefoot, their feet injured and bound in blood-soaked bandages. They walked for days through Virginia during that severe winter storm we had, with snow and wind and subzero temperatures. They each carry 30 lbs. of provisions.

Sometimes bodies give out, grow stressed, or are irreparably injured. In November, one of the monks was struck in a traffic collision. His leg was severely injured, and this

morning, the leg was amputated. The night before, he spoke to a fellow monk and told

him how happy he was to hear that the Walk was going so well. He said, “I wish I could

be with you, walking in the rain and the wind and the snow.” Then he smiled. Twelve

hours before losing his leg. These monks are not messing around. They are fully and deeply committed. And communities are deeply committed. And welcoming.

Intricate logistics are involved and can turn on a dime. State officials are notified.

There is cooperation between Counties, Sheriff’s Departments, Police Departments,

Fire Departments, first responders, EMS drivers, churches, cafes and caterers and

cafeterias, School Boards, veterinarians, local colleges and universities, etc., all for the

monks’ protection, medical needs, food and shelter. Roads must be blocked and traffic controlled, sometimes for 40 miles or more, as the monks, police escorts, ambulances and support vehicles move at a pace of 3-4 miles an hour. So far, everyone has cooperated. Gladly so.

There is photo after photo, video after video, of law enforcement officers in full uniform, guns in their holsters, reduced to being little children, so excited to meet the monks. A sheriff or police chief will present a monk with a badge to pin on his sash. The sash is now covered with badges. It has grown heavy and cumbersome. But the monks want to show their appreciation and give community law officials an opportunity to give

something to them. And after so much horrifying news about ICE and the gaslighting about what law enforcement means, it’s moving to see these men literally shaking and

jumping a bit, happy and proud to be with the monks.

When the monks began in Fort Worth TX, they didn’t think they’d be noticed. They

certainly didn’t expect their walking to attract national, and now, international attention. Millions now follow news about the monks. Their Facebook page, alone, jumped from 1 million followers to 2 million in just 11 days. They have well over 1.5 million followers on Instagram. Aloka is a star in his own right, with his Facebook page nearing 1 million. At the same time (and remarkably), this pilgrimage remains quiet and under-the-radar. Like a parallel universe. Many have never heard of them. It's both a groundswell and a whisper. The monks seem to walk into people’s awareness on a “need to know” basis.

Here’s how I “discovered” them: My spiritual teacher, John, kept mentioning them to me. For months. I didn’t pay attention. It sounded “soft” and naive. I was too caught up in being angry every minute about Minneapolis or something whacked out about Greenland or bulldozing the White House or just being angry about things in my own life. Then one morning, and I don’t know why or how, they entered my thoughts. Then a friend from Virginia posted a facebook photo of the monks. No comment. No explanation. Just a picture. It stopped  me in my tracks. Now, the monks had my full attention. And my guess is that I found them only when I was ready to find them. And, if I can guess further, others found them when they were ready to find them.

What is that old saying? The teacher comes when the student is ready?

People travel for hours to meet the monks. They stand on the side of a highway to

watch the monks walk past. Some people fall to their knees. They press their hands

together. They drop their phones, forgetting to take pictures. The monks have said that

watching people drop their phones makes them happy. Sometimes the monks will stop

walking and accept flowers from children. They will stop to spend time holding a baby

or talking to someone in a wheelchair.

One of my favorite roadside moments was when they slowed down to pet a row of

ponies brought by an equine organization, asking for each pony’s name: “And who is

this? Peaches? Hello, Peaches.” At the end of the day (after walking 20 miles), the monks will give a presentation. Sometimes they will sit very still and chant, the crowd spellbound and hushed. Sometimes a venerable monk will come forward to teach people how to access inner peace through their breath. Sometimes a monk will talk about their travels or conduct a Q&A. One woman asked a monk, “Will you be walking back to Texas?” When I heard this, I held my breath. I was wishing that, yes, they would be walking back. Wishing that they would be walking forever. The monk looked at the woman, smiled, and said, “No. We’re going back by bus. We want to get a chance to see the Country where we walked.”It has been reported that the monks have been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for 2026.  

Postscript

I wrote this essay on 2/4/26, Day 102 of the monks’ Walk. As I write this, it is 2/17/26. Much has transpired between then and now. (And by the time you read this, the storywill be different yet again.) The monks crossed into Washington D.C on Day 108 (2/10/2026), two days ahead of schedule. That day, they took part in an Interfaith Ceremony at Washington National Cathedral, where top leaders of a number of faiths in this Country gathered to meet them. On Day 109 (2/11/26), after a Peace Gathering Ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial and an evening meditation, the Walk was quietly pronounced over. The monks are now safely back in Fort Worth, TX, where today, they celebrate the Lunar New Year. According to their Facebook page, this is “an invitation—a gentle, loving invitation—to begin the most meaningful journey of all: the journey within.” And to do that, all they are asking for is five seconds of our time. That’s it. They walked 2,300 miles for a lousy five seconds. They are asking all of us to stop. Maybe (and especially) when we’re on the verge of reacting with anxiety or anger. On the verge of violence and destruction. Instead, breathe three times. One. Two. Three. Then write this down: “Today is going to be my peaceful day. And nobody can mess it up.”Every day, do these two things. That’s all they asked for before heading back to Texas. So the Country can know peace. Five seconds. Breathe in. Breathe out. And know: “Today is going to be my peaceful day. And nobody can mess it up.”

More info can be found on the monks’ Facebook page, Walk for Peace. Info about their dog, Aloka, can be found on his Facebook page, Aloka the Peace Dog.