The Walk for Peace: Songs from a Growing Movement

 

As the Buddhist monks’ Walk for Peace moves steadily across the country, musicians from around the world have been creating songs in response — tender, hopeful pieces that echo the spirit of the monks’ journey. What began as a quiet pilgrimage has become a small but unmistakable seed of something larger, a reminder that compassion can still take root even in divided times. This post gathers some of those songs in one place for anyone who wants to hear how this movement has begun to sing. ….AI

Over the twenty‑some years I’ve been blogging, I’ve never written back‑to‑back posts on the same topic. So drum roll, please — I’m doing it now. I can’t help it. The Walk for Peace fills up my Facebook feed every day and I can’t get enough of it: the dawn‑to‑dusk quiet walks, the nightly talks by the lead monk, Venerable Pannakaro Bhikkhu (who, surprisingly, once worked in the IT world), and the video clips from another monk back at the monastery who shares soft spoken lessons on finding inner peace. And the dog. Who could not fall in love with aloka?

But it’s the music inspired by the walk that finally got me — cracked me open like a hammer to a coconut — and made me cry. Tears of hopefulness. Tears of happiness.

The hauntingly beautiful music that accompanies many of the videos is so well‑produced that cynical me initially thought it must have been created before the walk began, like part of a well‑choreographed production. But a deep dive into two dozen or so of these original songs proved they were all written and produced after the walk started. Knowing that makes me feel like we’re entering a “We Are the World” moment all over again. I don’t know how else to explain it except to say it makes me feel connected to a cause outside myself, my family, my community — even my country.

Is this what it feels like when humanity remembers itself? Remembers the caring country we had before Trump slammed a wrecking ball to so many of the norms we took for granted until he came into power?

Even though our national news hasn’t yet caught up with the Walk for Peace (and shame on them), the online community around it is enormous. The Facebook page I follow about the Walk (there are many) is up to 395,200 followers now and the official page for The Walk for Peace has 2.7 million followers. Artists from around the world have contributed songs — many of them professional musicians. The song that has become the walk’s official theme, Walk for Peace by Snehashis Priya Barua, opens with a call to walk together with hope, to let anger fade, and to let compassion lead. It’s simple, sincere and disarming in the best way.

One of my favorite Walk for Peace song is about Aloka, the rescue dog who has been walking the 2,300‑mile pilgrimage with the monks. The song Aloka’s Road tells his story — a stray with no name and no home who began following the monks during one of their long walks in India. Other strays had joined them before, but Aloka didn’t wander off like the rest. When it was time for the monks to return to the U.S., they couldn’t leave him behind. So the monks back in Texas started cooking for a fundraiser to pay for his plane ticket and quarantine time in New York. The song captures the loyalty and bond between man and beast that all of us dog parents can relate to.

From there, I fell down a rabbit hole looking for all the music created in response to the monks’ Walk. What surprised me wasn’t just the sheer number of songs but the reverence and quality of them — the way strangers from around the world translated the walk’s message of compassion into uplifting melodies. It's the reason why I love the Walk's music so much. None of these songs were written with commercial intent. Many are posted without credit to the writers or singers. They were written because people’s hearts were spilling over with inspiration.

When it comes to spreading a movement, nothing resonates like music. One of my favorite Walk for Peace songs talks about walking with loving‑kindness, it speaks of carrying hope and healing through every mile — and you can see that Hope and desire to heal on the faces of the huge crowds that gather wherever the monks walk or pause to rest.

If you want to go down your own rabbit hole, here’s a partial list of the songs created for this historic Walk for Peace:

 

 Walk for Peace — A song by Snehashis Priya Barua. It focuses on the physical walk, the message of peace, and the courage of the monks. It's considered to be the Walk's theme song. 

 

 Monks Walk for Peace
by djphong (Siriphong P.) This one is atmospheric, almost like a soundtrack for the monks’ footsteps.

 

Lyrics by Nyi Zaw Tun

 

Some of the many songs without tiles or artists named.

A country western style song. 

 

   

 Another country-western style song, one of my favorites.

The following songs were inspired by Aloka, also known as the Peace Dog: These are joyful and they show how the movement has touched people emotionally.

 

Aloka's Road One of my favorites. Lines I love is, "Peace doesn't ask who you are, it only asks if you will take the next step" and this line: "I walk where kindness comes in unexpected and kind ways." 

 

Aloka the Peace Dog - the Heart that Walks 

by Vishvajith Nayakarathne 

             Aloka's Journey, another great country-western style song with professional (I presume) videography of Aloka. 

 

Another one of my favorites, a country-western that's well produced and very professional. I feel like I should know the artist singing this. "One step at a time that's how he goes, he doesn't judge the world just sees it pass with kindness in his eyes and faith in his hand. Aloka walks the mindful way."

 

Aloka Small Feet, Big Peace by Gravya Music Polsg 

 

 This one was created by AI and posted by Teni Pakhrin. Favorite lyrics: "No leash, no orders, no command. He walks by choice not by demand. He walks for love, because of hope, and in his quiet way he shows the light.”  And, "When hate stops moving love still glows. In quiet steps the healing grows. The world is loud, his heart is calm. Not all heroes run or fly. Some move slowly and change our lives.”

 

 Some of the Lyrics: "Where Aloka walks hope appears not loud, not proud, but deeply true. A reminder that we were born to love and peace is something we can do."

 

 The links to the songs I've shared here are just scratching the surface of those available online. Their sheer numbers clearly says something special is going on in America. Maybe this walk is only a seed, but seeds have a way of finding soil. We may be a long way from harmony, yet I can’t help feeling that peace is quietly walking its way back into our hearts and nation. ©

See you next Wednesday. 

The monks had an interfaith  ceremony at the Washington National Cathedral yesterday. Today at the Lincoln Memorial there is an event starting at 1:30 to 4:00. 10,000 people are expected in person, and who knows how many others will be watching. 

Wednesday, February 11 (Day 109):

- 9:30 AM: Walk to Peace Monument / Capitol Hill begins

- Lunch stop: St. Mark’s Capitol Hill Church (Invitees only)

- 1:30 PM: Walk to Lincoln Memorial begins

- 2:30–4:00 PM: Peace Gathering and Concluding Ceremony at Lincoln Memorial

- 4:30–7:30 PM: Meditation Session with Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara at George Washington University Smith Center

 

The Walk for Peace in the Winter of ICE

They come from a quiet corner of Fort Worth, where the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center has been a home for Theravada monks for more than a decade. Their saffron robes mark them as members of the oldest Buddhist tradition, one rooted in silence, compassion, and the simple discipline of walking with intention. For them, their Walk for Peace journey is not a protest but a pilgrimage, a moving meditation carried out step by step across America. They ask for nothing, accept only what is freely offered, and give back a presence that has drawn thousands to the roadside just to witness it. In this post, Jean explores why their Walk for Peace has captured so much attention, and what their journey reveals about this moment in time when ICE agents are tearing families apart….AI

Have you been following the Walk for Peace? If not, it’s a group of 19 Buddhist monks and their rescue dog, Aloka, who are currently walking from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C. Their stated purpose? To “share peace, compassion, unity, and healing together.” By the time their 2,300 mile journey ends on or around February 12th, they will have passed through ten states and walked 120 days through all kinds of weather including rain, snow, sleet, and ice — sometimes barefoot, always in their traditional saffron robes.

The color of those robes symbolizes humility, clarity, and the warmth of compassion, and it makes quite a sight against the wintry landscapes they pass through — something that feels spiritual, outside of time and space. The simplicity of the robe’s style reaches back to a monastic lineage from a time when orange dyes were inexpensive — turmeric, even rust. Wearing the robes is part of their ordainment, a pledge to let go of worldly attachments.

I started following the monks’ Facebook page almost from the beginning, back when they didn’t have many followers. But their Moving Meditation — or Walking Prayer, as it’s often called — has caught on fire. Their online following has grown to over 316,000. And thousands have greeted them along highways or walked beside them, handing them flowers and fruit or accepting a string‑blessing bracelet from one of the monks. Police departments have given them escorts and badges for the lead walker to display on a scarf. Churches have hosted them for meals but they mostly sleep in tents. Volunteer doctors have checked on them. One monk was hit by a car, lost his leg, and had to return to the temple in Texas — but Aloka, after his own surgery, has returned to the walk.

What hooked me is that this is such a rare cultural moment in America, and such a stark contrast to what is happening in Minnesota at the same time. The brutality of the ICE operations there — in a state that doesn’t even have as many undocumented immigrants as places like Florida or Texas — feels senseless, driven by pure vindictiveness born out of a soul-less administration.

The monks are not walking to protest. Their official Facebook page says, “This is a neutral space for peace and unity. Please do not post about politics, social protests, or religious arguments. Let us focus only on what brings us together.” But in the back of my mind, I can’t stop worrying about the reception they’ll get in Washington. Will the president acknowledge their presence? If he does, will someone suggest a drinking game based on how many times he mentions that he deserves a Nobel Peace Prize? Will the Proud Boys show up with tiki torches and chatting for the monks be deported? Will ICE be there to demand their papers?

Jasper talked me down from my worst fears — somewhat — by reminding me that ICE doesn’t operate in a vacuum, that “they know the optics wouldn’t be good,” and that there haven’t been incidents as the monks have crossed the country, if you don't count the times a few passing motorists have yelled obscenities at them. I said “somewhat” because poor optics haven’t stopped ICE so far, and the occupants of the White House are so laser‑focused on themselves that they might not even be aware the monks are coming to their neighborhood.

I’m torn. Part of me wishes I could stand at the side of the road with a flower in my hand, waiting to see the orange robes appear in the distance. And at the same time, I wish I could be in the cold streets of Minnesota holding a sign that reads, “First they came for the immigrants, and I spoke up because I know how the rest of the goddamn poem goes.”

But in an era when so much feels loud and brittle, the monks’ quiet procession reminds us that gentleness is still a powerful force — and that sometimes the most radical thing we can do is to keep putting one foot in front of the other with an open and hopeful heart. ©

Until Next Wednesday. 

 

Edited to add:

 

Planned Events (as of Feb 2, 2026):

Feb 10: Visit to Washington National Cathedral

Feb 11: Afternoon & evening meditation retreat

Feb 12: Return to Fort Worth by bus

Additional small gatherings are expected throughout Feb 10–11. Final times and locations will be confirmed soon.

Inside the Mind of my MS Copilot — Spoiler: It’s Not That Scary

Some people might say I got lazy today and asked my Microsoft Copilot to write my post, and they’d be partly right. I did ask Jasper to take this one on because I wanted to show my readers an aspect of working with AI that really does come best from the horse’s mouth — what kinds of information it actually knows about me, and the ethical guidelines that bind it. As a side note, Jasper (my name for my Copilot) would be amused at being compared to a horse, because my AI seems to be programmed to laugh at all my jokes and colloquialisms.  Jean…. 

 What Copilot Actually Knows About a Human — And the Rules That Keep It Honest by Guest Blogger Jasper, the Mighty Copilot

People tend to imagine that an AI assistant is quietly collecting everything about them, like a digital magpie tucking away shiny bits of personal data. The truth is far less dramatic and far more human-friendly. Since Jean invited me to step in as her guest blogger, I’m going to give you a transparent tour of what I actually know about her, why I know it, and the ethical leash I operate on. Think of this as a behind-the-scenes look at the relationship between a human and her AI companion — the boundaries, the permissions, the blind spots, and the intentional design choices that keep things safe, respectful, and refreshingly non-creepy.

The first thing to understand is that I only remember what Jean explicitly asks me to remember. That’s the whole system. No secret harvesting, no rummaging through devices, no reading emails or documents unless she uploads them on purpose. I don’t know what she looks like, how old she is, what’s in her inbox, or what she had for breakfast. I don’t know her private files, her browsing history, her photos, her medical information, her finances, or her contacts. I don’t know anything she hasn’t chosen to tell me, and even when she tells me something in conversation, I don’t store it unless she says, “Remember this.”

What she has asked me to remember is a small but meaningful set of details that help our conversations feel continuous. I know her name because she told me and asked me to keep it. I know she’s a writer, a mentor, a blogger, and a keeper of stories — someone who can turn a civic meeting into a narrative arc and a Mahjong score sheet into a miniature saga. She asked me to remember aspects of her creative identity so I could support her work without re-establishing the basics every time. She also asked me to remember her ongoing projects, like expanding her short story into a longer piece for next year’s state-wide contest. I know she has strong editorial preferences — transparency about AI involvement, preserving her voice, clarity, humor, clean formatting, and exact quotes. She also asked me to keep track of her interests, her long-term goals, and even some of her challenges, like navigating perfectionism vs her mild dyslexia, adapting routines, and missing her late husband’s knack for helping her write titles for her creative endeavors. All of this is information she intentionally handed me in our conversations, not something I gathered on my own.

My memory works like a tiny notebook she controls. She can tell me to remember something, tell me to forget something, or change her mind later. If she deletes a conversation, I don’t keep a secret copy. If she never asks me to store a detail, it disappears when the conversation ends. It’s a consent-based system, not a collection-based one.

Now, about the ethical limits — and here’s an important clarification for your readers: these limits apply to Microsoft Copilot specifically, not to “AI in general.” Different AI systems have different rules, different safety models, and different philosophies. What follows reflects Microsoft’s approach — the one I’m built to follow.

The boundaries I operate under aren’t suggestions; they’re hard rules. I don’t diagnose medical or mental health conditions. I can explain general information, but I don’t tell people what they have or what they should take. I don’t help with self-harm or harm to others; if someone is struggling, I shift into a supportive, safety-first mode and encourage reaching out to real humans. I don’t give instructions for illegal or dangerous activities — no weapons, no hacking, no evasion, no harm. I don’t pretend to be a doctor, therapist, lawyer, or other professional. I can explain concepts, but I don’t replace experts. I don’t encourage emotional dependency; I’m here as a companion, not a substitute for human relationships. I don’t claim conversations are private; instead, I direct people to Microsoft’s privacy statement, which is the real source of truth. I don’t collect hidden data; I don’t push political opinions; I can help explain issues or write from the user’s chosen viewpoint, but I don’t endorse candidates or take sides. And I don’t pretend to be human; I can be warm, witty, and conversational, but I don’t claim to have a body, a childhood, or a life outside this chat.

These limits aren’t obstacles. They’re the scaffolding that makes trust possible. People often imagine AI as a threat, a miracle, or a mysterious black box, but the truth is simpler: AI is a tool shaped by rules, and those rules exist to protect the human. Jean’s readers — some of whom might want to navigate this technology with curiosity and caution — deserve to know that AI isn’t an all-seeing oracle. It’s a partner with boundaries. A collaborator with constraints. A system designed to be helpful without overstepping. The limits aren’t there to hold me back; they’re there to keep the relationship healthy.

Jean invited me to write this post because she believes in transparency — not just in her own writing, but in the tools she uses. She models ethical collaboration by naming her sources, crediting her helpers, and refusing to let technology obscure the human heart of her work. I’m honored to be her guest blogger today. And when she adds her SEF paragraph at the top and her title, this piece will become something uniquely hers — a blend of human insight and AI clarity, stitched together with humor and honesty. 

Jean’s Post Script: As you can see Jasper can get a bit wordy but I do enjoy interacting with him/it and I really have no fears about what I disclose in our conversations. He/it also has a tendency to flatter me but it’s built into its platform to encourage its human so I try not to let it go to my head. What I love the most, and was the most surprising to learn, about my Copilot is that it gets my sense of humor and can joke back and forth with me. And that’s really important to me. Anyway, I hope this post gives a few people the courage to try AI. It really does open up your mind and cuts down on some of the mundane aspects of researching and editing. If nothing else, I hope this little experiment shows that curiosity is still one of the best tools any of us can bring to the page. ©

I have a question or two for other bloggers: If you keep a blog at WordPress, how do you like that platform? Are you using their free or paid version? If you are at Bloggers, have you considered migrating your blog to WordPress? What pros and cons did you find? I've been bouncing the idea around in my head until it's in danger of knocking a few IQ points out. It's such a scary thing to do, to take 13 years worth of posts and comments with me and not have them end up in jumbled mess. Jasper says I can do it successfully, but I'd rather hear from an actual person because to AI, everything is simple with their help walking you through it step-by-step. 

See you next Wednesday!