108 Days of Footsteps, Faith, and a Dog Named Aloka: Inside America’s Most Unlikely Peace Movement

By Leslii Stevens ERYT500, Trauma Informed Yoga Teacher

I didn’t just read about it. I watched it. From the very beginning.

Nineteen Buddhist monks. 108 days. More than 2,300 miles from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C. I saw every step online, YouTube streams, social media updates, people walking alongside them. And when I broke my leg, suddenly I could watch even more, every day, every mile.

I wasn’t just a spectator. I became a witness. And the longer I watched, the more I realized: this wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t a march for attention. It was something subtler, yet far more powerful.

No microphones. No demands. Just footsteps. Just presence. Just peace lived, moment by moment.

And somewhere along those highways and backroads walked a dog named Aloka, “divine light” reminding all of us that compassion doesn’t need a podium.

Watching them, I found myself asking: What happens when peace is not shouted, but decided? What happens when we choose it every single day?

A Walk Like No Other

On a cool October morning in Fort Worth, Texas, a quiet revolution began, not with a megaphone or a protest sign, but with soft footsteps and saffron robes.


Nineteen Buddhist monks stepped off from the Hương Đạo Vipassana Bhavana Center, embarking on what would become a 2,300-mile pilgrimage across the United States. Their destination: the nation’s capital, Washington, D.C. Their mission: peace. Not as a slogan. Not as a petition. But as something lived, breath by breath, step by mindful step.


For 108 days, a number heavy with symbolism across Buddhism, Hinduism, and Jainism, they walked. Through rain and snow. Along highways and backroads. Across the vast, shifting emotional and geographical landscapes of America.


And they didn’t walk alone.


A Peace Walk, Not a Protest


This was never framed as a political crusade. It was never about legislation or power. The monks made that clear from the start: this was a spiritual offering. An invitation to “live peace through everyday actions, mindful steps and open hearts.”


And with every mile they moved, something remarkable happened: America began to notice.


Small crowds gathered in Southern towns. Church congregations, community centers, and city halls hosted peace gatherings. Thousands came out just to stand, watch, sit beside, or walk a short stretch with these humble men in robes, many of whom walked barefoot for large portions of the journey.


There were no chants of resistance, no demands. Just presence, focus, and an unshakable reminder that peace is not something delivered, it’s something experienced.

Their mission? Peace. Not as a slogan, not as a protest, but as an act to be lived and shared. At every stop, they invited locals to participate in one uiet profound act: take a small piece of paper and write the mantra:

“Today is going to be my peaceful day”

Write everyday and then read it and then say it out loud. 

It was simple. yet revolutionary. In a world of noise, chaos, and constant alerts, the monks reminded everyone watching that mindfulness, the conscious awareness of breath, body and moment, is a daily practice, not an abstract concept.


The Dog Who Walked With Them


If the monks’ mission was a message of compassion, then Aloka the Peace Dog became its face.


Aloka, a rescue dog of Indian origin whose name means “divine light” first met the monks during a 112-day pilgrimage in India. Somehow, the animals’ loyalty and gentle presence synced with the monks’ rhythm of life. In 2025, when these monks set out on their American journey, Aloka joined them again, becoming an emblem of steadfast love on four legs.


Aloka walked when he could. Rode in the support vehicle when he needed strength. Slipped into naps between miles. Over social media, he became a sensation in his own right: a peace ambassador, a comforter, a symbol that wisdom sometimes comes with a wagging tail.


Trials on the Road


This was no leisurely stroll. The weather was unforgiving. The roads were long. The body tires quickly when the heart leads first. At one point outside Houston, a support vehicle was struck, injuring multiple monks and resulting in the amputation of one man’s leg. Yet even that hardship became part of the story of resilience, compassion, and non-hatred.


And Aloka? Even he faced his own setbacks, suffering injuries that required care, only to rejoin the journey with a spirit that mirrored his human companions.


When the Whole Country Watched


What began as a quiet religious practice grew into a phenomenon. By the time the monks reached Washington, their story had captivated millions online and in person, drawing global attention to a pilgrimage that felt, at once, ancient and urgently modern.


In town squares, highwaysides, and university campuses from Louisiana to Virginia, people of all backgrounds watched them pass. Some joined for a block. Others stood in silence as the monks passed. Many carried flowers, candles, or open hearts. The walk wasn’t just a physical path, it became a mirror for a nation searching for calm amid chaos.


Into the Capital


On February 10, 2026, after 108 days of walking, the monks crossed into Washington, D.C., their robes a bright contrast against winter’s pale skies. Thousands gathered at the Lincoln Memorial. Clergy of other faiths joined in moments of interfaith prayer. Ordinary citizens offered thanks and shared tears.


The monks did not arrive with banners or political demands. They brought gentle affirmation that peace begins within us, and that peace, once lived, ripples outward.


Their final steps in the capital were not an end. They were an invitation: to carry peace forward in the small acts of every day, in kindness spoken, in forgiveness offered, in awareness of the world around us.


What the Walk Leaves Behind


Not every story needs noise to make an echo. Some carve their mark with silence. With kindness. With the patience of feet on pavement and breath in stillness.


The monks’ long walk ended not with the end of miles, but with the beginning of possibility, that peace can be more than a headline or a wish. It can be a path walked together, one mindful step at a time.


And somewhere along that long road, a dog named Aloka reminded us that sometimes, the most profound teachers have four paws and hearts bigger than most.