Walking With the Monks: The Peace I Didn’t Know I Still Controlled
- candicerasa
- Feb 19
- 6 min read
I wrote this with detail and intention to invite you into the energy with me.
If you’ve ever felt the heart-call to follow the monks, I’m sharing this so you can drink it in—so you can feel, even from afar, what it’s like to stand on the edge of a cold road and watch peace move through a world that often forgets it.
A quick note: I only had minimal interactions over the course of one day—just a tiny speck of the impact they’ve created over 100+ days of walking. There are so many more stories and photos available through Peace Walk USA. Some moments don’t need long to change you. One day can be enough.
In moments like this, I miss nothing. Everything is sharp. And so, I am grateful to share that with all of you.
Jump first
This trip was last minute. I bought a plane ticket and whispered to the Universe: If I’m meant to be there, it’ll work out.
And it did—immediately, beautifully.
My friend Sarah, who lives in Virginia, scooped me up, mapped routes, drove, offered a place to stay… all within 24 hours of my flight booking. She brought delicious salads. She gave me ski gloves. She steadied me when I was scattered with excitement. And because of her (truly), we were able to both experience and document the walk—for us, and for you.
We observed the monks in two locations in small Virginia towns. One stop, hilariously and perfectly, looked like the least “spiritual” place imaginable: a wings-market-gas-station-gambling-joint next to a junkyard called “America’s Best Wings Express and Market.” We chose it because it seemed like a practical place to leave the car. Only later did we learn: the monks were actually stopping there. Imagine our “luck.”
That unexpected stop became one of my favorite moments—because it gave us time. Time to feel the warmth of connection in the frigid snow. Time for presence. Time to offer something small and sweet: fruit.
I brought pujas—apples—and almost all the monks accepted them as they walked by us into their brief stop. I don’t know why it made me so happy… except that maybe kindness always does. Maybe feeding someone—especially someone walking in devotion—touches something ancient in us. Like: We can support what we want to see more of in the world, and that it can be simple.
The people were part of the walk
It wasn’t just the monks.
The people—total strangers—were part of the magic of it all.
A woman stood alone on an icy road directing traffic out of a strip mall like it was her sacred duty. A man walked up and down the shoulder handing out water to anyone waiting in the cold. The Stafford police stood in heavy snow to protect the monks’ safety. One officer said to me, “Monks do monk things and we don’t understand them… but we’re sure impressed at how determined they are.”
That line stayed with me.
The images of the generosity and shared purpose between the local police and the monks settled in my heart deeply. A stark contrast to the way media portrays law enforcement in our tense political climate. I witnessed kind exchanges between police and people, and police and monks. All seemingly polar communities, on the path together, silently, supporting one another; cheerfully and with reverence. Even when people don’t relate… they can still respect. And respect is a form of peace too. And this we might call a bridge.
There was a mom with three boys holding handmade signs: “You walk, we’ll follow in spirit.” “Paws for Peace.” “Peace is possible.”
A family from India drove 50 miles so elderly parents could witness the monks. I watched their faces—pure joy—at the gas station as the monks passed. Another woman held a heart sign with flags of the world: “World peace is one project we have to do together.”
One woman told us she researched on Reddit what monks tend to appreciate when they pass the public on cold roads—chap stick and hand warmers—so she stocked up intentionally. Another mom drove by in a minivan, four kids waving from the windows like we were old friends, then everyone piled out wrapped in blankets smiling like it was Christmas morning.
And then there was an older couple—Anne and Tom—standing with us in the snow. We helped each other navigate icy curbs, shivered together, and shared insights about how we thought the monks were doing in the harsh sideways snow. We agreed we all felt frozen for being outside for 30 minutes waiting and wondered how they'd been walking for over 100 days. Warmth, I thought, is an energy cultivated, fueled by love and purpose- not an accidental or happenstance thing.
In short conversations, we traded concerns and hopes for our country with some of the people we met. Things like "I'm sure glad this is happening, our country needs it." And I could feel the hope rise in my heart by being there together, with strangers, becoming less foreign, more family, in solidarity for something so simple and yet so powerful. It felt like community without needing a membership card or dramatic solution. Just shared humanity on a winter roadside.
And I am reminded of a few lines from one of my favorite poems "Desiderata" that expresses this perfectly.
"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons"- Max Ehrmann
This is what I keep thinking: people are kinder and more loving than we are shown and led to believe.
The monks: presence you can feel
And then—there were the monks.
They are striking. They have presence. It’s obvious they carry something the rest of us struggle to hold consistently, even though we long for it. I kept thinking of it as a knowing with a capital K—wider, simpler, and somehow harder for most of us to practice.
Only peace matters. Only peace.
They walk fast—so fast you inhale and before you exhale they’ve passed you. Some walk with their gaze down, meditative. Some light up with giant smiles. Some bow gently with kind eyes. Some wave hello. I watched flowers being given and then given away again—passed in a reciprocal loop of tenderness, from person to person to person. Like love was simply circulating.
The lead monk, Bhikkhu Paññākāra, has a fierce warrior’s gaze—unflappable, single-pointed, poised. When he smiles it’s subtle, warm, intense. We watched him pause and look into people with what I can only describe as potent energy. Anne said, “They have to be hurting… but I heard the lead monk does not give up.”
You can feel that it’s true. For this, he came.
And yes—there is also Aloka, the peace dog (my kids’ personal favorite “monk”), resting warmly in the caravan. We heard from local police that Aloka was once a stray in India and spontaneously joined the monks on a previous peace walk—walking the full distance with them. After that, they did what they had to do to adopt him and bring him to the States. Apparently he meditates with them during Vipassana. Just… imagine.
A gentle clarification
One thing I want to name, because it matters: The Peace Walk is not a protest, political movement, or an invitation to idolize anyone. People will always project meaning. But the walk itself is humble and simple: a devotion to peace.
Over and over I heard people say they came to see the monks because they too crave peace—because witnessing peace in action strengthened something in them. Hope. Resolve. A sense of connection. The remembrance that we are not alone in still believing in peace.
That last part… I didn’t realize how much I needed.
What I’m walking away with
I went to express gratitude for what they are reminding us.
And I went because I didn’t want to feel alone for still believing in peace in a world that can feel like it’s deconstructing—where anger and bitterness seem louder than tenderness.
When I saw them, I cried. And thought: Yes. THIS.
This is the work.
In harshness—peace. In subzero temperatures—peace. In all terrains—peace. In all places—peace. With all people—peace.
Here’s what I’m carrying:
People are kinder than we’re taught to expect.
You can respect what you don’t understand.
If I look for hope, it is there.
Small and simple acts of peace have giant ripples.
We support each other well when we focus on shared humanity.
You can’t force people into shared humanity… but you can offer humanity through kindness.
And the deepest one:
Peace has to be cultivated in me—rather than waiting for the world to hand it to me.
Peace is on the planet if I hold it in my heart. And that matters to everyone I meet. So I will carry peace.
And I will walk my life in peace.
"And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul."- Max Ehrmann
Sarah and I in Stafford, VA (taken with my camera)
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