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Share on bsky*This is Part 2 of a three-part series on the Walk for Peace, focusing on the lived emotional responses of those who have witnessed it. You can read Part 1 here.
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“We walk not to change anyone’s faith or belief. We walk only to gently raise awareness of peace, mindfulness, compassion, loving-kindness, and unity.” ~ Buddhist Monks who Walk For Peace
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Wherever these monks arrive, they offer a simple mantra that lands like a reset button in the middle of modern life:
“Today will be my peaceful day.”
That sentence is not a slogan. It’s a decision.
Throughout their 2,300-mile walk, which is concluding in Washington, D.C. today, something undeniable started happening to the people who were meeting them along the way: a quiet shift that is less about religion, and more about alignment. Less about watching a spiritual event, and more about recognizing something the mind and body have been craving.
People are coming out in cold weather. They’re bringing their children. Some drive for hours. Some wait for hours. And so many leave changed—not because they learned something new, but because they felt something they haven’t in a long time.
Peace that doesn’t need conditions.
One woman described driving home in complete silence afterward—no music, no phone—because her mind didn’t want noise anymore. Another said she’s been catching herself mid-thought, refusing to get stuck in situations she can’t control.
Several people shared the same surprising detail: they started telling strangers about the monks because something in them wanted to share and pass the feeling forward.
One attendee admitted they had brought a camera, fully intending to document everything, then felt compelled to put the phone down instead. They chose a different kind of remembering. A flower over a photo. A moment of reverence that could only be captured by its emotional connection.
Over and over, the language people use isn’t dramatic. It’s simple and deeply human:
>> “It was emotional and uplifting.”
>> “I was moved to tears.”
>> “I feel changed.”
>> “I needed this.”
>> “I feel lighter.”
>> “I don’t feel the anger anymore.”
Some of the most powerful responses aren’t poetic, but more specific.
One person shared that they had been carrying anger after losing a parent, and after a brief interaction—only seconds long—they felt the grip of that anger loosen and leave. Another wrote about tucking a 99-year-old mother into bed with her peace bracelet from the event on her wrist, and how that single experience became a sacred marker late in life: not about converting faith, but about witnessing and experiencing peace with her own eyes and soul.
People are showing up because they long for the feeling of peace, if only for a moment.
Hospice rooms. Loss. Chronic stress. Overwhelm. Division. The weight of constant noise. Many people describe the walk as one of the only hopeful things they can point to right now—an experience that feels “good” without asking them to argue, defend, perform, or prove anything.
Just stand.
Just breathe.
Just watch peace pass by.
A community forms in the space around them
Something else keeps repeating in story after story: the crowd becomes part of the experience.
People talk about strangers smiling at each other in the dark. Sharing hand warmers. Sharing flowers. Laughing. Crying. Hugging people they just met. Families, elders, and teenagers standing side by side, experiencing a shared hunger for calm.
One person described it perfectly:
It didn’t feel like a spectacle. It felt like a series of small, personal moments, repeated again and again across the miles.
Even when crowds are large, even when conditions are imperfect, the walk becomes a mirror. One attendee admitted they expected “a peaceful experience” but got pushed and crowded, and then realized something that hit harder than comfort.
Peace isn’t peace because conditions are perfect.
Peace is peace when it’s practiced even within resistance.
That’s not a lesson most of us learn in calm environments. Becoming aware of the dichotomy of the chaos to peace is the powerful lesson.
Peace that crosses faith lines
Many who meet the monks are openly Christian, Catholic, or simply not Buddhist. And they say the same thing:
This didn’t challenge their faith.
It deepened their understanding of peace within their faith.
Some Christians have even commented that the monks’ presence feels “more Christlike” than the people who call themselves Christians but came to disrupt them. Not because of doctrine, but because of demeanor. Not because of what they preached, (because they did not preach) but because of what they refused to become in the face of confrontation.
No arguing.
No defending.
No hostility returned.
Just walking.
Why this is resonating now
It would be easy to call this a trend. But most trends don’t get people to drive eight hours in freezing weather. They don’t make teenagers stop and stare in silence. They don’t move elders to tears.
This feels like something else.
It feels like collective nervous system fatigue finally meeting a wink of safety.
It feels like people recognizing, in real time, what it’s like to be near embodied calm, and realizing how rare that has become.
And maybe that’s the most honest takeaway from these shared experiences:
People aren’t just following monks—they’re following the possibility that peace is still real. Peace can still exist even surrounded by chaos.
The final stretch
The monks arrived in Washington, D.C. today. If you can, don’t just “watch the news” of their arrival. Watch your own response.
Notice what happens in your body when you witness stillness in motion. Notice the way your breath changes. Notice what you suddenly find yourself feeling within.
Because the most repeated message from the people who have met them is very simple. It’s the same quiet vow, spoken in a hundred different ways:
“Today will be my peaceful day.”
And once peace is felt, even briefly, it’s recognized, remembered, and welcomed home.
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author: Patricia Heitz
Image: BlueSky
Editor: Nicole Cameron
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