If you know Richmond at all, you probably know we love a festival. A reason to get together. We adore a little “where are you, what are you doing, let’s meet up?” (If there’s a beer truck, and music, even better, but that’s not what we’re talking about here.)
The Walk for Peace (in Richmond as I type, but they came into the area yesterday by way of Petersburg) felt like the opposite of that kind of energy—on purpose.
A group of Venerable Buddhist monks (the Venerable Monks of the Dhammacetiya) came through Richmond, Virginia today as part of their Walk for Peace—a 120 day on-foot journey from Fort Worth, Texas to Washington, D.C..
But instead of bringing the usual “big event” vibe, they brought quiet. Purpose. Peace.
This week’s Richmond highlight is… stillness.
I got to see them yesterday in Chester, Virginia, and it was beautiful, quiet, lovely, and inspiring. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t trying to sell anyone on anything. It was simply a steady line of footsteps—and a crowd of all ages and all types who, for once, seemed perfectly willing to match that energy.
In the frozen spot of winter we’re in right now, it felt unifying in a way that surprised me. They’re headed out of Richmond tomorrow, and continue on their way to Washington, DC, where they’ll arrive next week.
The quote I keep replaying
You know when a sentence lands so well that you think about it for days?
This is the one that has really stuck with me (from their social media):
“We walk not to bring you peace, but to remind you it never left—it’s been there through every storm, every heartbreak, every lonely night, waiting with infinite patience for you to notice it again. May our footsteps help you turn inward and find it. And may that discovery be like sunrise after the longest night, dispelling shadows you thought were permanent and filling your whole being with radiant wellness, with comfort, with belonging.”
That’s… a lot of truth in one breath. Powerful and beautiful.
Photo by Sandy Swagger Jones
3–5 practical ways to support the monks (and show up respectfully)
1) Donate financially (official options)
The official “How to Support” page lists an online donation option (via Zeffy) and also a Zelle option.
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Zelle:
[email protected]
2) Offer food support (if you’re local / coordinating a stop)
They also have a specific food donation offer form and a coordinator phone number listed for food support.
3) Track where they are in real time
Their official Live Map is updated periodically (they note roughly every 15–60 minutes).
If you’re trying to catch a stop location rather than guessing along the route, this is the best way.
4) Follow itinerary updates
Their Overview Map is updated once daily at night, and they point people to their official Facebook updates for the most current daily specifics. There are loads of videos, photos, and updates to be found there. Aloka, the “Peace Dog” even has his own social media.
Aloka- from his FB page
5) A quick note on “how to be there”
If you’re going out to watch or walk nearby: bring your calm. Give space. Let it be quiet.
A few simple ways to “turn inward” and find the peace they’re pointing to
Not as a fix, or a life overhaul. Just small, practical ways to notice what’s already there, and let it center you in a world that is all too often completely chaotic:
1) The 60-second “return”
Set a timer for one minute.
Breathe in slowly. Breathe out slower.
On each exhale, silently think: “Here.”
That’s it.
2) One block, no phone
Walk one block (or one minute inside your house if it’s too cold).
Feel your feet. Notice sound. Notice light.
If your mind spins, just come back to: step… step… step…
3) The “name three” reset
When you feel edgy or overwhelmed, name:
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3 things you can see
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3 things you can hear
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3 sensations you can feel
It’s a fast way to come back into your body.
4) A tiny kindness (quietly)
Hold a door. Send a “thinking of you” text. Tip a little extra if you can.
Not for karma points, but just because it gently reorients you toward connection.
What I’m taking with me
Walk for Peace
We love a reason to get together.
But there’s something about a community gathering around quiet—especially in winter—that feels like a different kind of medicine. A reminder that belonging can be simple. That comfort can be shared. That peace doesn’t have to be manufactured.
Maybe it never left.
Maybe it’s just been waiting—patiently—for us to notice again. We may not all be able to walk their walk, but hopefully we all learn a bit from it.
