Winter Water and the Walk for Peace

Hi Friends!

Welcome to the first new moon of 2026. From the depths of this January deep freeze, I've been practicing with the settling, clarifying nature of winter, the season of water. And serendipitously, the Walk for Peace monks have been moving across America showing us exactly what this looks like.

If you haven’t seen them yet, Walk for Peace is a group of Buddhist monks on a long-distance pilgrimage from Fort Worth, Texas to DC. They’re doing 2,300 miles on foot, stopping along the way to be with people.

Every time I see them, I feel relief. Relief that this kind of action exists.

Everywhere, there are louder forms of protest: hot and fast and furious. We need that ferocity in this aching world too, of course. But the monks are doing something else entirely. In the pictures and videos, they're on city streets with crowds gathered, or kneeling with people whose faces are wet with tears, or just walking, walking, walking. Like water finding its way, they are showing us the relentless simplicity of the open heart.

We’re all tired right now. Some of this tiredness is simply because we’re elemental bodies moving through the seasonal arc of winter, which is begging us please, for the love of all that’s holy, rest!

But some of it is the deep fatigue of bearing witness to so much suffering while feeling utterly confused about what to do. We sense we’re part of this whole thronging, living world and that we should be more engaged somehow… that we should be part of the change. But every option feels either too small to matter or too big to manage. We’re exhausted from caring deeply and having no idea where to put that care.

The monks are showing us a way through: be tender, be humble, be slow. Let care flow from clarity instead of from pain and lack and need.

When water stops churning, it becomes reflective. You can see what’s actually there instead of just seeing the turbulence of your own thrashing. (We explored this quality of mirror-like clarity last year through the lens of anger - how rage can become wisdom when we take ourselves off the hair trigger.)

This is what winter is asking of us. Stop churning. Let yourself be tired if you’re tired. And from that stillness, notice what’s already there:

The heart is open. Compassion is always there. It’s the bedrock of our being and it is relentless.

The monks are not walking because it’s the perfect strategy or because they’re going to solve America. They’re walking because, from the depths of their practice, it just became the obvious next thing to do. They’re walking because like water, care moves. It just keeps flowing, wearing down whatever is in its way.

So this is the invitation for this month:

Be like winter water. Let yourself settle into the clarity of whatever is actually here: your tiredness, your confusion, your objectless love. There is no perfect response. Just whatever is here when you stop moving fast enough to feel it.

Maybe what arises is walking, or writing, or sharing in community. Maybe you'll notice some steady practice you've quietly been doing all along. Whatever it is, let it flow its way spontaneously out from stillness, rather than condensing rigidly from panic and pain.

Next week, I’ll pop by with some creative + contemplative prompts to explore this in practice. Then join me on February 1 for the Moonlit Sit where we’ll practice settling through shamatha together.

See you soon!

✨ Lama Tasha

Moonlit Sit

DATE: February 1, 2026
TIME: 8-9pm ET
LOCATION: Online (Zoom link emailed on registration)

TOPIC: Stillness in Motion
First we relax. Then we find our balance like surfers riding waves - stable even as everything moves. Then we look at the clear, spontaneous presence of just being here.

DANA: This session is open to all on a PWYC basis. If you’d like to support this work, you can donate during registration or become a paid subscriber on Substack.

✨ Register✨