finding hope on a cold morning
On an early, frigid Saturday morning, I stood bundled in my heaviest winter apparel. The Buddhist monks were making their way through North Carolina on their Walk for Peace.
I had followed their progress for days, taking pleasure in their daily posts and messages of peace and calm. That morning, according to their daily live map, they would be only about a mile from my house, so there was no question I would go to see them.
After a wait of only about 20 minutes, the large crowd that had gathered heard police cars down the road begin to announce the arrival of the walkers. People on both sides of the street edged up to the curbs and craned their necks to be able to see.
We were a diverse collection: old, middle-aged and young, families with children. As the walkers neared my spot on the curb, those nearby fell silent and grew respectful. It was truly remarkable to witness a crowd quiet in that way.
A sense of serenity and contentment flowed over me as the monks walked by, and I no longer felt the cold. I smiled and one of the monks reached out to give me a small bouquet of flowers. I was so touched and overwhelmed that tears streamed down my face.
I will treasure those simple flowers for the rest of my life.
The walkers progressed quickly and made their way up the hill. I walked on the sidewalk for a little while near them, not wanting to lose the joy and contentment I felt from them. For me, I realized, the world hadn’t seemed peaceful or kind since last year. I wanted to cling to that new sense of happiness and warmth.
Everyone around me seemed to feel the same way. We shared a sense of calm reverence, followed by genuine joy. And it wasn’t just us.
All over the country thousands and thousands of people have turned out to honor these monks, who ended their 2,300-mile walk this week. We all, I think, want to feel the sense of peace and hope for the future that has been sorely missing from our lives and our nation. We are desperate for it, and the size of the crowds they attracted showed it.
When I got home, I put the flowers in a vase, knowing that I would press them eventually and keep them forever. Now, when I need to re-create those feelings of serenity and peace, I look at the dried flowers and remember how happy and hopeful I felt that morning.
On the day after their walk ended, the monks posted these words that I will also try to remember:
“If they can walk 2,300 miles for peace, perhaps we can take one step today ... one breath, one pause, one kinder choice. Because sometimes, the quietest steps echo the farthest ... and change the world.”