By Dana Gornall
I can’t pinpoint exactly when I saw the monks walking.
I think it may have been sometime in November or early December. I was doing the typical doom scrolling on social media when I saw them walking. Like probably most of us, I paused.
What is it about monks that catches our attention? I suppose this could be a reaction to any dedicated practitioners of religion. I once saw a whole group of Mennonite women climbing off a tour bus outside of a TJ Maxx. That froze me in my tracks for a few seconds. Another time I was sitting in an airport when a line of Orthodox Jewish men strolled in, just fresh off the plane. For a few moments I completely forgot my manners and stared in awe. It wasn’t noticing their yarmulkes, or their curled hair on each side, but seeing them clustered altogether like that.
The first time I saw a group of monks in “the wild” was on a trip to Las Vegas.
Not really gamblers, my significant other and I decided to take a drive to Red Rock Canyon to do a little light hiking and sight seeing. After getting out of the car we saw about four of them dressed in dark crimson and brown robes, taking photos of the rock formations. For many of us, it isn’t something we see everyday, and so curiosity can take over.
So, 24 monks walking along the side of a road—a highway—some barefoot, with a cute little dog trotting by their sides, will make us take notice.
This walk is their Walk for Peace. It is a 2,300 mile walk that started in Fort Worth, Texas and is aiming to end in Washington, DC. Their mission? To spread peace, loving kindness and compassion. They began this trek in October 2025 and expect it to last around 120 days. They range in age from 32 to 70.
120 days. 2,300 miles. I have been known to complain that my feet hurt while on vacation while wearing nice shoes and taking lunches and long breaks. When asked by a reporter what one of the biggest challenges they have faced so far one said, their feet.
This journey has not been without problems.
In mid-November a pick up truck was unable to slow down fast enough and rammed into the car that was following the group for safety, which in turn hit two of the monks. One of these monk’s unfortunately had to have his leg amputated. While these two are healing, the group continued their walk. As they traveled through Georgia they have met with people standing by the road—some offering water and flowers, some bowing to the knees in reverence.
The monks stop and give blessings—a blind man and his guide, a child in a wheelchair, babies, mothers, an older man moved to tears as he watched them walk. They tie blessing strings around the wrists of these people and chant prayers. Some have attempted conflict. One man stood with a sign stating the monks were doomed to an afterlife of hell and he felt it was his job to save them. He stood there arguing his case, not wanting them to pass. Bystanders called out to move to the side, to leave them alone. One monk calmly talked with him telling the man that he had his journey and they had theirs.
Their rescue dog, Aloka, recently had to pause his time with them due to an injury. They re-united for a short time the other day, and Aloka will go back for more rehab and recovery before joining again.
I—along with thousands, possibly millions of others—have become enthralled with their journey. What started out as a quiet, peaceful walk has grown into a sort of movement.
One video I watched on social media a woman was saying she had run into a gas station store and was shocked to see the whole group in there stopping for a quick break and some food. She kneeled down petting Aloka, and tears came to her eyes. She said she felt like she was meant to see this, that it gave her reassurance there was kindness in the world. Another video on Instagram a man jokingly talked about how every day the first thing he checks on social media are the monks.
Myself, standing in the kitchen this morning making my breakfast, I see a video from CNN highlighting their story and I feel my eyes stinging with tears.
Why?
Over the last few days I have been even more aware than ever of the division that has occurred within our country—and our world. While the cracks have been running deeper and deeper, lately it has felt like a true break has occurred.
I messaged a good friend the other day.
I’ve know this person for 30 some years. We’ve been through our weddings, pregnancy, breastfeeding, raising toddlers, then school children, then high schoolers together. We’ve supported each other through broken marriages, we’ve talked through career changes and re-locations. She is one of my best friends and one of my longest friendships.
But we split politically.
We chatted—online—and I could feel the tension growing. She stood firmly in her opinion and I stood in mine. I’m sure we both felt the other was misguided. It wasn’t a long conversation, but I know we both walked away a little hurt.
This morning I watched online as ICE officers yanked a non-protesting, innocent woman out of her car. I listened to Tim Walz, the governor of Minnesota, express his frustration at this worsening situation and plead with the country for peace and calm, hoping to quell the chaos. I saw lawyers and former police officers give their opinions on the shooting of Renee Good.
And then I saw the monks again. Just walking. The sharp contrast hit like a punch to my chest.
Like a movie montage, images of civil rights protests pop up in my head. Images of the Kent State University shooting. Images of Martin Luther King and Malcom X. Images of hippies and soldiers faced against one another. Images of the World Trade Center falling and people walking, dazed and covered in soot. Images of news reels of caution tape outside Columbine, Parkland, Sandy Hook.
It’s a visual cacophony of anger, violence and screams. When will we end the shouting? Will it ever?
And yet, there are the monks. Quiet, calm, in a straight line, barefoot, feet bandaged, walking with a dog by their side. There are no demands for our attention. They aren’t asking for anything. And still, crowds are gathering to watch. Friends on social media are making plans to make the drive from other states to catch a glimpse. My sister-in-law was at a medical appointment yesterday when her provider came in telling her, “Hurry up! Get dressed, they’re coming through!”
Their walk and mission punctures holes through the chaos and headlines and videos we see everyday. I think for many of us, we are all wanting this to be a sign for change. I think it is possible.
Photo: Walk for Peace Instagram
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