Bearing Witness: Reflections from the Walk for Peace

A moment I captured as the monks approached their Liberty stop along the Walk for Peace.

​From the moment I learned about the Walk for Peace and that it would be coming through North Carolina, I felt a pull to support it and to be present. Not to participate in the walk itself, but to stand nearby. To witness. To be in the field of what was being carried forward step by step.

The Walk for Peace is a 120-day, 2,300-mile journey on foot from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C. Led by Buddhist monks, the walk is an offering of peace, mindfulness, and inner reflection carried across the country through sustained, embodied practice.
What surprised me first was the pace.

Despite the quiet presence they carry, the monks move quickly and with purpose. They average three to four miles per hour, covering between twenty and thirty miles each day. This includes stops for lunch and dinner, where they frequently rest and invite people to visit with them. Watching them walk, it became clear that this was not a slow procession in the way many might imagine, but a steady, disciplined rhythm sustained day after day.

They have continued walking through all conditions. Snow, sleet, freezing rain, bitter cold. Weather that would normally send most of us indoors. Their commitment has not wavered.

Accompanying them is their loyal dog, Aloka. Earlier in the journey, Aloka required surgery and special care. While he no longer walks the full distance alongside them, he remains very much part of the journey. He rides along during the day and is with them each night, cared for and included as a constant presence.

During their lunch-time visit, one of the monks spoke briefly. There was no elaborate teaching and no attempt to persuade. Instead, there was a gentle invitation to notice our breath, to notice our inner state, and to recognize how rarely we allow ourselves to fully arrive in the moment we are already in.

Standing there, listening, I became aware of how much effort my own body had been carrying. Not dramatic tension, but a constant subtle holding. The presence of the monks, the steadiness of their pace, and the simplicity of their message made that effort visible in a way I hadn’t noticed before.

What struck me most was how little needed to be said.

In a world saturated with explanation, urgency, and noise, this felt different. Peace was not presented as an idea or a goal, but as something lived. Something expressed through consistency, endurance, and presence. Through walking. Through stopping. Through continuing on, regardless of conditions.

I left feeling quieter inside. Not changed in any dramatic way, but gently recalibrated. As though something essential had been remembered rather than learned.

In a message shared on the Walk for Peace Facebook page, the following blessing was offered:
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“May our footsteps remind you of the light that has always lived within you—the peace that darkness tried to hide but could never extinguish.
May that peace rise gently now, like dawn breaking, dispelling every shadow and filling the empty places with warmth, with hope, and with the remembrance that you have always been whole.
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May you and all beings be well, happy and at peace.”