04/14/2026
From Fort Worth to D.C. to right here in Salt Lake City—this is a story of barefoot monks, community guardians, and the quiet power of mindfulness. Read how the Walk for Peace touched one of our community member's life and changed her world for the better. 🧡
Walking Toward Peace🕊️ by Donna Matturro McAleer
Last October, nineteen venerable monks and one dog named Aloka set out from Fort Worth, Texas, and began walking. Barefoot. 2,300 miles toward Washington, D.C. — carrying nothing but intention, and asking nothing in return.
Once I discovered the Walk for Peace, I couldn't look away.
Every morning, I built a ritual around their journey. Before sunrise, Abby — my own four-legged peace walker — and I would head out under the early morning stars for a few quiet miles. I'd listen to the monks' chants from the day before, check in on their progress, then come home to read, do yoga, and write "Today is going to be my peaceful day". It became my anchor. My daily practice of stillness before the world rushed in.
At the heart of that ritual was also Heather Cox Richardson's Letters from an American — her daily Substack newsletter, read by more than a million subscribers, that brings historical context to the turbulence of modern American politics. Calm, clear, and deeply grounded, her writing links current events to the long arc of history, reminding us that the struggle for democracy and equality is neither new nor finished. Together — the monks' chants and Richardson's steady narrative — they became my morning compass: one offering inner peace, the other helping me understand the world I was stepping into each day.
From afar, I watched crowds gather — more than 10,000 people showed up in Greensboro alone. I reached out to friends along the route, urged them to go, to witness, to share. And they did. Photos shared. Then artwork — beautiful, moving pieces created by people who encountered the monks in person and those watching on line, like me, and simply had to express something they felt but couldn't yet name.
That's what this walk did. It created vibrations. Moments of connection across cities, states, communities, and countries — all of us, in our different ways, in deep need of peace, loving kindness, and compassion.
Along the way, something beautiful and unplanned emerged. After an accident in Houston, Texas on Nov 19th injured two monks, police, fire, and EMS departments across the country stepped forward — not because they were asked, but because they chose to. Organically, community by community, a network of guardians formed around the walkers. Officers escorted the monks along highways and city streets, managed traffic, and coordinated across jurisdictions to create safe passage. But their role went beyond logistics. Officers walked alongside the monks, exchanged words of encouragement, and accepted small tokens of peace — pins and badges offered in gratitude. Fire and EMS units monitored the route, ready to respond at a moment's notice. In community after community, these first responders showed up not just as protectors but as participants — a reminder that the desire for peace runs deep, across every uniform and every walk of life.
On Day 108, Feb 11, 2026, the monks crossed from Virginia into Washington, D.C. It was more than a geographic milestone. It felt, watching from Park City, like something symbolic had arrived at the heart of public life — a quiet, barefoot, unyielding reminder that peace belongs there too.
A few colleagues and I gathered to watch the monks' arrival and the prayers they offered at the Lincoln Memorial — that sacred, resonant place — from our screens in Salt Lake City. The daughter of one of my dear friends, a student at George Washington University, was there in person and sent us photographs. Seeing those images through her eyes, knowing she was standing in the very place we were watching, made the world feel suddenly small and united. That evening, we joined the Global Meditation — 5,000 people gathered at George Washington University and tens of thousands more from around the world, online, breathing together in the same intention. It was one of those rare moments when you feel, unmistakably, that you are part of something much larger than yourself.
And then the monks returned home on Feb 14, Valentines Day, to the Hương Đạo Vipassana Bhavana Center in Fort Worth, where it had all begun. The streets were lined with people and flowers. Venerable Ratanaguṇa — Thầy Bửu Đức — the beloved teacher, stood waiting. When Venerable Pannakara arrived leading the walking, he knelt before him, overcome with emotion and gratitude after every barefoot mile of that extraordinary journey. Watching from afar, I too was overcome. It was one of the most quietly powerful moments I have ever witnessed — a student returning to his teacher, carrying the world's need for peace in his heart.
During the journey, I learned that one of the venerable monks, Douangphaneth Mingsisouphanh, is from Wat Lao Buddharam, here in Salt Lake City.
On March 8th, I went to his homecoming celebration. Lena at Wat Lao had welcomed me enthusiastically: bring your friends. So we went. We walked slowly and deliberately three times around the temple together, following traditional dancers and listening to a proclamation from a State Senator, Venerable Douangphaneth shared stories from the journey as pictures appeared on a large screen. He shared that Venerable Bikhu Pannakarra is steadfast and resolute. At times he said he had to lightly jog to keep pace and to remain in the line of the walk. He invited all to take a break and share in a meal of delicious Asian foods prepared by the community.
Then came a moment I won't soon forget. He invited each of us up to receive a blessing — gently tying a peace bracelet around our wrists with his own hands. It was unique, special, and humbling. It was also the moment he invited us to call him Ajahn Nate — teacher — and the word settled warmly, like it had always belonged.
And then there were the people I met. Jesse, from Utah, who had walked behind the monks for the entire 2,300-mile journey — his quiet dedication a testament to how profoundly this walk moved those who witnessed it up close. Pho, a member of the Wat Lao community here in Salt Lake City, who had been part of the logistics team keeping the pilgrimage moving day after day. And Toc, Ajahn Nate's niece, who traveled from Oregon just to be present for this homecoming — because some moments are worth crossing state lines for.
Each of them carried a piece of this journey. Meeting them reminded me that the Walk for Peace was never just about the monks. It was about everyone it drew in along the way.
The following Sunday, I returned to Wat Lao — this time with more friends — for “Peace in Practice” a lesson in mindfulness and meditation with Ajahn Nate. I also listen now to his nightly sharing, a quiet touchstone at the end of each day. What began as following a walk from afar has become something I didn't anticipate: a community. Warm, welcoming, and rooted in exactly the values the monks carried across nineteen states. I love this community, and I am so grateful it found me.
Now the journey is complete, and I find myself no longer asking how to carry this forward — because I already am. The morning ritual, the chants, the quiet under the stars with Abby, the Sunday meditations, the nightly reflections — each one a small, intentional act of peace. And there is one more unexpected gift: following the Walk for Peace community on social media has quietly transformed my feed. Where there was once noise and anger, there is now a steady stream of peace, compassion, kindness, and mindfulness. The algorithm, it turns out, reflects what we choose to pay attention to. Choose peace, and peace finds its way back to you.
The monks live something simple and profound: that peace isn't passive. It's a daily choice not to let anger or greed lead. It's choosing, again and again, to meet the world with loving kindness and compassion.
Their footsteps have stopped. But the vibration remains.
Today is my peaceful day. I hope it is yours too.
