On October 26, 2025, 19 Vietnamese Buddhist monks from the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center in Ft. Worth, Texas, began a peace pilgrimage on foot, to Washington, D.C., a trek of approximately 2,300 miles. I caught up with them on Day 77, as they crossed my consciousness through YouTube and took me with them across the Gervais Bridge into Columbia, South Carolina. Me and about 12,000 others. Americans all— the short, the round, the tall; every heritage and hue; all kinds of bodies variously aged and abled—and not only those on the ground but also those of us in cyberspace.
Every day I catch up with them and listen to the message delivered by the Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara, who teaches the crowds that gather round him about mindfulness, forgiveness and healing at every stop. I soak in his words, “Stop multi-tasking. Slow down. Notice your breathing. Write this sentence down on a piece of paper and read it out loud every morning before you do anything else: ‘Today will be my peaceful day’.”
It is no surprise to me that I stumbled onto this path after I had fallen headlong into despair over the brutish murder of Renee Michelle Good in Minneapolis by a masked agent of the current lawless regime. I came down with a raging sore throat. How symbolic can you get when helpless rage chokes you? I treated myself with purifying salt water gargling, hot tea with honey and lemon, lots of fitful sleep, boxes of tissues. Then, instead of scrolling through the doom loop of outrage in the news, I chose to soak up wisdom lectures from contemplative Christian mystics like Cynthia Bourgeault, Thomas Keating, Richard Rohr, and Barbara Holmes. That took about three days. Then, out of all that grief, longing, and self-reflection, like magic came the monks, walking across the bridge.
Out of the blue this afternoon I had a quiet little epiphany born of looking at the throngs of us participating in the 82nd day of Peace Walk. I asked Google for the population of Germany in 1939: it was 69.5 million prior to its annexation of Austria, Sudetenland, and Memel, which swelled that figure to approximately 80 million. Then I asked if a majority of those territories swallowed by the Reich were German-speaking and learned, yes. Yes, they were.
A sweet lightness of heart-mind came over me. Those trying to force white Christian nationalism on our country are doing everything they can to homogenize us. Bullying, oppressing, deporting, maiming, and now even killing people they perceive as “other,” those in power have premised their blitzkrieg on a basic misunderstanding of the country they seek to control and rule. There are over 340,000,000 of us. We are not all white. We don’t all speak English. And, most emphatically, we are not all the brand of “Christian” that bears little resemblance to the radical love practiced by the Prince of Peace. This horrible reign of terror may get much worse before it ends; but it will end because there are simply too many of us “others” who recognize our common humanity.
So, all of us “others” will continue to sign petitions, call Congress, send Senators strongly-worded email and join protests in the street. And like me, I can see with my own eyes, thousands of us are joining together to create a more connected compassionate world.
Cynthia has been writing for over 75 years for pleasure, self-soothing, introspection, and work-related jobs of various kinds. Her current writing group in San Francisco insisted she share this essay online for all the “others” who might benefit from hearing her voice.
