Walk With US

 

 

 

Aloka, the Peace dog is up and recovering from yesterday's surgery on his leg.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Following the Monks Walk for Peace across a bridge over troubled waters.

The Buddhist Monks Walk for Peace:

1. To awaken the Peace that lives in all of us.

2. Walk with us mentally. 

“Mentally walk with us,” they said, and I think of walking 20 miles one day, then 20 miles the next and on and on for 120 days.

They began in Texas in October 2025, and plan to be in Washington, D.C. in February, a 120-day trek. On January 12, 2026, it was their 77th day of walking.

They are a light shining in darkness.

Yesterday, Aloka, the Peace Dog from the streets of India, where he was a stray who followed the Monks on a 112-mile trek for Peace, UNDERWENT SURGERY for a foot/leg injury.

I know he was struck by a car in India and became sick, but he had been frolicking and happy on his trek in the US. A 3-hour surgery only took an hour, and he is awake and recovering.

There will be a period of recovery, and only 10-minute walks 6 times a day.

When they placed him in the car, for it was bitterly cold, he made noises the entire time. He wanted to be outside walking with the monks.

 

I'm writing a Newsletter, yes again, this one will pertain to writing only, different. and because every writer should have a newsletter, and I'm a writer, well, you see I have to have one.

  josnewsletter.com/

I’m inviting you to my Newsletter, but only if you mean it, are a writer, interested in writing, or simply curious. A subscription would allow you to know when I publish new material, or, of course, if you are reluctant to put your email address into the slot, you can email me directly at joshappytrails@gmail.com, and I will forward you a “Notice of new content posted.” Nothing else.

Jo’s Newsletter will be dedicated to subjects about, pertaining to, or information about writing. Well….a little of my personal life might slip in. Like this morning, I decided that morning isn’t morning for me until I spill my coffee.  I don’t mean a dropped cup, I mean a dribble, a splash, a slop.

 

Heaven help me.

I try to carry too much out to my office behind the house, two hands. three, four, five or six items, books, papers, gloves, a trek stick, a key for the office, plus two or three dogs wanting into the outback’s yard through the office’s side door. Who gets the brunt of it? My coffee.

Good thing I’m not spilling it on a dog.

There will be no duplication of my other blogs on my Jo's Newsletter. It will be for writers and interested parties only. And there will be NO AI USED IN MY CONTENT.

AI makes me livid. Almost everywhere I go, it wants to write for us. IF ANY SLIPS into my Newsletter IT WILL BE FROM TEMPLATES OR OTHER INVASIVE MATERIAL.

Why did we become writers?

Because we want to express ourselves, we love the craft, we love it when the Muse graces us with her presence, we want to stretch ourselves, we like investigating. How in the world can I write exposition, inner thoughts, outer descriptions, and dialogue all wrapped up in a pretty package of words?

I’m not a wordsmith.  I’m a painter with a pen—a phrase I remember for the Art Instruction Course I took when I was 18. Then, they were talking about pen and ink drawings. Now, I’m talking about writing.

Because we are fallible human beings, we make mistakes, typos, write stupid content, and sometimes write stuff that should be for our eyes only.  We try, we fail, we persevere.

It’s tricky.

Another thing: This morning, after reading Cara Hunter’s decision to remove herself from X (formerly Twitter—which I loved), I decided to remove myself as well. (It only took about an hour, password wrong, change password, get code, password wrong, “More” button—where the “settings” tab is stored, not working, changed carriers and got it. Whew.

A Northern Ireland politician (Cara Hunter) targeted in a deepfake video four years ago has said she is quitting Elon Musk's social media site X due to what she described as a "complete negligence in protecting women and children online".

I’m not a big-time contributor to X, so nobody will care if I’m on X or not.

But I care. 

I think I will go to Instagram. If the monks and their Peace dog Aloka can go on Instagram, I can.

https://josnewsletter.com/

                                                                 My baby    

On my Way to a Peace Walk, I stepped in a Cow Pie

 No, it was worse than a cow pie, you can easily wash them off. Cows are vegetarian, what I stepped in was toxic.

Violence, a fatal shooting in Minneapolis, MN, two people injured by gunfire in Portland OR. All by I.C.E. agents.

What they are doing is not to provide safety in America,” Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey said, “What they are doing is causing chaos and distrust." 

Bombing Venezuela, Escalation in Mexico, Lust after Iceland--that man wants to control the world. Why oh why oh, are we as the citizens of the United States of America standing for this? Oh he wants to distract us from the Epstein Files. Oh he's desperate to escape jail. Oh, he has abolished our safeguards. Duh.

 

Moving right along:

  

I had a day of peaceful dreaming that we could go tripping through the tulips, aka walking along together in peace, like the Walk for Peace Buddhists Monks are doing. Like a stray dog in India who volunteered his services to a group of monks who were making a 100-mile walk for Peace in India, and are now walking for peace in America.

Aloka (meaning enlightened), the peace dog, is accompanying his group taking a 2,300-mile trek from Texas to Washington, D.C. a walk for peace.

Some are calling him “The mindfulness dog.”

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DTDaAk_DFdw/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

Mindfulness is almost a meditation. It’s a frame of mind where you are relaxed with intent. It seems almost contradictory, but think about it: a walk, a calmness, a focus—I am peaceful. I intend that this peacefulness extends outward to all living things. And think about all the life that lives in the soil beneath our feet, the fungi mycelium,  microbes, worms—many necessary for the breakdown of vegetation into compost for plants, our life-source. Plants, our maker of food, our homes, our oxygen.  (And even ones in Penthouse apartments must eat and breathe.)

I don’t know about the asphalt the monks are walking on; it would be like walking on emery boards, especially for the one monk who is walking with no shoes. And I am amazed that they remain peaceful and focused while walking along a highway, amid the noise and chaos.

And the dog, Aloka (meaning enlightened one), is trotting right along with them. Aloka volunteered for the journey. It began in India when he was a street dog and joined a group of monks taking a 100-mile walk for peace.

 

 
Now he is in the US marching with the Buddhist Monks for Peace from Texas to Washington D.C., a 2,300-mile trek. They figure it will take 120 days.

 

1. 

   
   

I felt inspired. What can we do to uplift, not break down? How can we be mindful in our lives, living in harmony and calmness? How can we slip out of dissatisfaction, the minutia of life, the fear mongering, the violence that is erupting in our country, and ignore the fanning of it to keep us stirred up? How can we say, “Enough?”

Yesterday, it was such a simple thing — my Grandson and I went to Starbucks for a Chai coffee for him and an iced mocha for me. The pharmacy was right there, so I asked if he would mind if I stopped. My Rx was free (surprise); however, I had my credit card out of my wallet, for I expected to pay.

I walked to the truck with my card and the bag in one hand to open the door, but when I got inside, the card was missing. I looked down, retraced my steps—no card.

I tried to search the truck—you know, that gap between the seats where everything likes to nap —but with a dog, a kid, and a winter jacket taking up the front seat, I could hardly see anything. I asked a man leaving the pharmacy if he had seen me drop a card. He hadn’t, but when we got into his car on the passenger side of my truck, he stooped down and found the plastic card had blown, scooted, slid, from the driver’s side ¾ way under the truck. (We had a gale that day.)

Hallelujah! Card found.

He told me his story about having his driver’s license stuck to another card and not being able to find it.

A human connection.

I will continue to dream, I will continue to follow the Buddhist Monks' March for Peace, and their loyal companion, Aloka. I will continue to believe that the people of the world want peace and happiness. And that the crazy ones will wake up or lose their power.  No amount of power, money, sex, force, attention, or “Likes” will keep them from dying. Maybe because they know that, they want to wreak as much havoc as they can before they leave. Spoiled bullies!

Martin Luther King Jr led a group of people to the gates of the promised land, then left. Now, opening the gates and entering is up to us.

Are we up to the task?

Race fights continue. Those who look different from us are suspect. The controllers tell us, “Those who aren’t white, rich, of our faith, belief system, don’t belong.” and if you oppose me, I will shoot you. I never thought we would see this in America.

Our old Reptilian brain responds: “Get rid of foreigners, fear strangers. They will take our goods. Grab the resources; there isn’t enough to go around. Survive. Mine, mine, mine.”

From Texas, they came, to Washington they go. They walk, a quiet, small group of monks and one dog. Because they believe in a better way.

Connect with me. 

Together, we can come up with a plan, something good.

Let’s do it.

Give me an “I’m in.”

 

 

  

“I’m waiting...💗💗

                                                    My little Sweetpea

 

 

 

Thursday, January 8, 2026

Our Present Political