Buddhist monks and their dog are walking barefoot from Texas to D.C., drawing large crowds across the South

A group of  and their rescue dog are walking single file along country roads and highways across the South, captivating Americans nationwide and  to greet them along their route.

Dressed in their flowing saffron and ocher robes, the men are walking for peace. This meditative tradition—more common in South Asian countries—resonates in the U.S. now, seemingly a welcome respite from the conflict, trauma and politics dividing the nation.

Their journey began October 26, 2025, at a Vietnamese Buddhist temple in Texas and is set to end in mid-February in Washington, D.C., where they will ask Congress to recognize  as a federal holiday. While promoting peace, their top priority is connecting with people along the way.

“My hope is that when this walk ends, the people we met will keep practicing mindfulness and find peace,” said the Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara, the group’s soft-spoken leader who is making the trek barefoot. He teaches mindfulness, forgiveness and healing at every stop.

Preferring to sleep nightly in outdoor tents, the monks have been surprised to see their message transcend ideologies, drawing huge crowds to churchyards, city halls and town squares across six states. Documenting their journey on social media, they—and their dog, Aloka—have amassed millions of followers online. On Saturday, thousands gathered in Columbia, South Carolina, where the monks chanted on the State House steps and received a proclamation from Mayor Daniel Rickenmann.

The physical toll of the monks’ long walk

At their Thursday stop in Saluda, South Carolina, Audrie Pearce joined the crowd lining Main Street. She’d driven four hours from her village of Little River and teared up when Pannakara handed her a flower.

“Something traumatic and heart-wrenching happens in our country every day,” said Pearce, who describes herself as spiritual but not religious. “I looked into their eyes and saw peace. They’re putting their bodies through such physical hardship yet radiate calm.”

Hailing from Theravada Buddhist monasteries worldwide, the 19 monks started their 2,300-mile (3,700-kilometer) trek at the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center in Fort Worth.

Their journey has not been without peril. On November 19, while walking along U.S. Highway 90 near Dayton, Texas, , injuring two monks. One lost his leg, reducing the group to 18.

This is Pannakara’s first U.S. trek, but he has walked across several South Asian countries—including a 112-day 2022 journey across India where he first met Aloka, an Indian Pariah dog whose name means “divine light” in Sanskrit.

Then a stray, the dog followed Pannakara and other monks from Kolkata in eastern India all the way to the Nepal border. At one point, the dog fell critically ill, and Pannakara carried him and cared for him until he recovered. Now, Aloka inspires him to keep going when he wants to quit.

“I named him light because I want him to find the light of wisdom,” Pannakara said.

The monk’s feet are now heavily bandaged after stepping on rocks, nails and glass along the way. His mindfulness practice keeps him joyful despite the pain, he said.

Still, traversing the Southeast has brought unique challenges, and pounding pavement daily has been brutal.

“In India, we can take shortcuts through paddy fields and farms, but here there are too many private properties,” Pannakara said. “But what’s beautiful is how people have welcomed us—even though they don’t know who we are or what we believe.”

Churches, families and towns host the monks along their path

In Opelika, Alabama, Rev. Patrick Hitchman-Craig hosted the monks on Christmas night at his United Methodist congregation.

He expected a small crowd, but about 1,000 people showed up—creating a block party vibe. The monks felt like the Magi, he said, arriving on Christ’s birthday.

“Anyone working for peace publicly and sacrificially is close to Jesus’ heart—whether or not they share our tradition,” Hitchman-Craig said. “I was blown away by the number and diversity of people who came.”

After their night on the church lawn, the monks arrived the next afternoon at Collins Farm in Cusseta, Alabama. Judy Collins Allen, whose father and brother run the farm, said about 200 people came to meet the monks—the biggest gathering she’s ever seen there.

“There was calm, warmth and community among strangers, and that was special,” she said.

Monks say peace walks are not a conversion tool

Long Si Dong, a Fort Worth temple spokesperson, said the monks plan to ask Congress to recognize Vesak—the day marking the Buddha’s birth and enlightenment—as a federal holiday when they reach Washington.

“This would acknowledge Vesak as a day of reflection, compassion and unity for all—regardless of faith,” he said.

But Pannakara emphasized their main goal is to help people find peace in their lives. The trek is separate from a $200 million campaign to build towering monuments on the temple’s 14-acre property to house the Buddha’s teachings engraved in stone, Dong said.

The monks practice and teach Vipassana meditation—an ancient Indian technique the Buddha taught as core to enlightenment. It focuses on the mind-body connection: observing breath and physical sensations to understand reality, impermanence and suffering. Some monks, including Pannakara, walk barefoot to feel the ground directly and stay present.

Pannakara has told crowds they do not aim to convert people to Buddhism.

Brooke Schedneck, a religion professor at Rhodes College in Memphis, said Theravada Buddhist peace walks began in the 1990s when Venerable Maha Ghosananda, a Cambodian monk, led marches through war-torn, landmine-riddled areas to heal his country after civil war and genocide.

“These walks inspire people and faith,” Schedneck said. “The core goal is to have others watch and be inspired—not through words, but through their willingness to sacrifice by walking and being visible.”

On Thursday, Becki Gable drove nearly 400 miles (about 640 kilometers) from Cullman, Alabama, to meet them in Saluda. Raised Methodist, Gable said she wanted relief from the pain of losing her daughter and parents.

“I felt in my heart this would help me find peace,” she said. “Maybe I could move forward a little.”

Gable says she’s already taken one of Pannakara’s teachings to heart: She’s promised to write five words every morning, right after waking up—just as the monk prescribed.

“Today is my peaceful day.”