Barbara Presnell: Walk Like a Monk
{Photo Credit: Walk For Peace Facebook Page}
A song is stuck in my head, a nonsense, repetitive line I can’t shake, and it’s going
“Way-oh-way-oh.”
Along with the words comes the mental image of collective walking, everyone together.
In 1987, an all-female rock group called The Bangles released a single entitled “Walk Like an Egyptian.” The song’s video is a Walt Whitmanesque showcase of people everywhere—fire fighters, restaurant servers, window washers, men in suits, Princess Diana and Bill Gates lookalikes, teens on skateboards, and more—walking like ancient Egyptians in caricature, squared off arms, one hand pointing backward, one hand pointing forward, their faces turned toward an uncertain but inevitable future. There’s no deep meaning to the song, the words, or the walk other than the spirit in which it was written and played. It’s a coming together song, a make-you-smile song. In 1987, it reached number one on Billboard Hot 100 and was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA).
It’s a slice of America and, in fact, the world, a sort-of 1980’s theme song that captures that decade’s growing sense of globalism, strong economy, optimism, diversity, and some of the worst fashion to come out of our culture ever. My Reagan-Republican friend Martin introduced me to the Bangles, and he loved them, and I loved Martin. That was a time when you could disagree politically and still be friends.
It was 40 years ago. In 1987, nobody knew there would be 9-11, COVID, or an American president bent on national destruction and world domination. The 1980s were far from perfect—cold war tensions rising, interest rates so high that home ownership was almost impossible. No decade is without its problems. Memory does a great job of wiping out realities of racism, sexism, poverty, and much, much more.
On October 27, 2025, 19 Buddhist monks began walking from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, DC. They’ll walk for 120 days, averaging 20–30 miles a day, some without shoes, some only sandals. They’re wrapped in traditional saffron-orange robes, their companion dog, Aloka, keeping pace on foot or in a pulled wagon bed. Everybody’s talking about them, from news anchors to social media influencers to ordinary people everywhere. Millions have joined their Facebook page and are following their livestreamed route. More importantly, a growing number of people are walking alongside them.
I look at the videos posted on social media: I see people of all ages, all skin colors, all gender identities. I see people with their hands folded in prayer, I see monks in quiet conversations—with an elderly woman or a young man in a ball cap or a child holding a flower or even, in one case, a “Repent” sign-holder trying to convince the monk that he’s going to hell if he doesn’t embrace Jesus.
“You have your way, I have mine,” the monk responds with a bow.
According to their Facebook page, the monks are walking because they believe in active, non-violent protest. They believe in peace, in respecting every person, every creature, and the planet we share. That so many people are walking with them suggests that the monks are offering what Americans desperately need. Daily, our lives are filled with shootings, war, anger, egos, and division. The monks offer a different path, another way.
“Let us walk together, step by step, breath by breath, carrying peace within us and offering it gently to everyone we meet along the way, knowing that every mindful step we take becomes a blessing for the world,” reads the New Year’s message on their page.
At a time when our country is reeling out of control, the monks have started something good. They’ve touched the hearts of Americans from Texas to South Carolina, and their influence is growing with each mile.
“Way-oh-way-oh” goes the chorus in my head. The monks have touched me. I’m not even sure what peace means anymore, but I too want to walk with the monks and search for it. We’re not living in 1987 anymore. This might not be the zany, big-haired walk the Bangles introduced, but it’s the walk we need; it’s the collective, multicultural, global walk of 2026.
Once a month this year, a part of my walk will be to write this column, because I want to provoke, inspire, anger, and most of all, encourage everyone—including myself—to be better, do better, embrace more, and be less afraid. I am willing to wrestle with myself, to rebalance and recenter. As I stumble through 2026, trying to make sense of a time that makes little sense, I hope you will walk alongside me.
