It was late October when I first learned that a group of monks had left their temple in Texas and begun walking—step by step, mile by mile—toward Washington, D.C. in the name of peace. The moment I heard it, something inside me shifted. It felt less like news and more like a quiet awakening.
These were not monks seeking attention, influence, or headlines. They carried no demands, no slogans, no noise. They carried only what was freely placed in their hands. And they were not simply Buddhist monks—they were referred to as Venerable Monks, a title that reflects deep spiritual discipline and devotion.
Their journey wasn’t a protest. It was a prayer made visible. A moving meditation across the heart of America. The simple truth that these Venerable Monks felt called to walk for peace on our soil made me stop and breathe. It felt rare. It felt serious. It felt sacred.
I knew I didn’t just want to witness it—I needed to. I wanted to stand in their path, even for a moment, and feel the presence of something so intentional, so humble, so pure.
When their route shifted toward Columbia, South Carolina—just a couple of hours from Fayetteville—I made myself a promise. No matter where they were on January 12, I would go. My friend Bev agreed to join me, and by grace, alignment, or something greater, we met them exactly where my heart had hoped.
We left my house at 4 a.m. and reached Ridgeway, South Carolina, before sunrise. The cold bit at our skin but knowing these Venerable Monks had walked through the same chill—some of them barefoot—made the discomfort feel small.
The crowd gathered there was gentle, warm, and kind. We didn’t yet know that Aloka, their beloved canine companion, would be heading into surgery that morning, yet he still came out to greet everyone before leaving for the vet. Even that moment felt like a lesson in devotion.
We walked with the monks briefly—only a few hundred feet—but even that short distance felt like an honor. Then we drove ahead, weaving through back roads until we found a quiet stretch where it was just us. Watching them approach in silence, wrapped in purpose, was unforgettable.
I held out a few polished stones engraved with “peace” and “love,” not expecting any monk to take one. They only accept what they can carry, and a stone seemed unlikely. But Bhikkhu Pannakara, the leader of the walk, slowed his pace, looked with intention, smiled, and accepted one.
Then others followed. My hand emptied, and my heart overflowed. One monk even offered me a flower in return. I held up a sign that made them smile—one chuckled, another took a picture. Even that small exchange felt like a blessing.
We continued leapfrogging ahead, finding another quiet place to greet them. Later, by following a support vehicle, we discovered their lunch stop—a small, unannounced location with almost no parking. Yet somehow, space opened for us. The monks shared their meal, and the crowd was invited to join. The food was simple and delicious. It felt like being welcomed into something
ancient and generous.
Bhikkhu Pannakara spoke softly, but his words carried the weight of truth. What I heard was this:
Every step toward peace is a step away from division.
Choosing peace means choosing unity over conflict, hope over fear, and action over silence.
When we walk toward peace—together—we create a path where understanding rises, and harmony becomes possible.
Before we left, the Venerable Monks offered us love and peace bracelets—handwoven, blessed, and tied onto our wrists with individual prayers. A simple gesture yet deeply moving.
The support team noticed my sign again, and when I offered it to them, they were grateful. They took a picture and asked us to place it on the donation table.
I assumed that would be the end of it; after all, they cannot take everything offered to them due to limited space. But as they packed up, we saw them pick it up again—smiling, admiring it, and carrying it into a support vehicle. That small moment felt like a circle closing.
If you have the chance to stand in the path of these Venerable Monks, don’t hesitate.
This walk is rare, and it matters. It feels like a collective soul check—a gentle reminder in a world drowning in ego, distraction, and division.
Some may try to turn it into a spectacle, but if you stand there and feel it, you understand. The walk awakens something ancient—a remembering, a reckoning, a call back to our shared humanity.
To the Venerable Monks walking in silence, purpose, and devotion:
We see you.
Your presence brings our unrest to the surface—not to shame us, but to heal us.
May your steps remain peaceful, and may your journey be protected.

(Photo: Tina Sheptak Turner holds a sign for the Venerable Monks on their route to Washington D.C. Turner felt a calling to view the peaceful march of the monks and drove to Ridgeway, South Carolina from Fayetteville to see the spiritual event. "It felt rare. It felt serious. It felt sacred." The monks ended up taking the sign to continue the journey with them, and gave Turner and her friend handwoven peace bracelets. Photo courtesy of Tina Sheptak Turner)