I finally got a new tattoo. My first one is small, hidden.

Meaningful for sure, but not visible, and, at 14 years old, faded. Sometimes I forget I even have it. My second tattoo? It's the size of my hand. I went big.

It's a compass star, hugged by a crescent moon with a scrolled banner that reads "Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost," a stanza from J.R.R. Tolkien's poem about Aragorn, the ranger who became king. I’ve wanted this tattoo since I read the stories decades ago, but I never gave myself the time to really think about it or bring the idea and design to fruition.

But it’s 2026, and my mantra is 'First Things First.

Getting tattooed is a commitment. Once the needle starts humming and inking, you’re in it. You chose this, and now it's permanent, etched into your skin, whether it turns out exactly as you imagined or not. But you move forward because going back isn't an option. Change is.

America has several bad tattoos. A country with brutality inked across its chest, its hands stained with blood it refuses to wash:

It’s all there: generations of violence, trauma, and forced inequity, and the harm inflicted on so many, here and abroad—harm this country continues to pretend it cannot see, or isn’t responsible for.

We're witnessing it continue in real time. On the morning of January 7, 2026, an Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agent fatally shot 37‑year‑old Renee Good three times on a south Minneapolis street during a chaotic federal immigration enforcement operation, not far from the intersection where George Floyd was murdered by local police in 2020.

A militarized force being deployed on American streets isn't hypothetical anymore; it's happening.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., said it best: "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance or conscientious stupidity"(King, Strength to Love, 1963).

This is what happens when a nation refuses to reckon with the harm it's already committed, and instead doubles down on moving on. It’s like copying someone else’s terrible tattoo and not bothering to look at their own scars.

And it's not just Minneapolis. The White House is manufacturing a fake geopolitical emergency to justify snatching up Greenland, threatening the sovereignty and lives of Indigenous Greenlanders and the fabric of global security, i.e., the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO).

But here's what gives me hope: Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and about two dozen Buddhist monks are walking for unity and peace from Texas to Washington, DC. right now, a 2,300-mile journey in just about four months’ time.

Dr. King understood that walking—many would argue marching—mattered, that peace is powerful, and silence is deadly.

Tattoo enthusiasts turn their bodies into art to shout to the world what’s important to them.

The monks understand this, too. By the grace of the Gods, old and new, their journey included Pittsboro, just a short drive away for me. So I went.

I think they chose the Deep South not because it's warmer or easier (well, not this week), but because this region is soaked in the blood and pain of anti-Black and Indigenous brutality, antisemitism, and anti-queer degradation.

Fear, anger, and greed built the infrastructure of terror here. This region isn't an exception to America's violence; it's the blueprint.

If those forces shaped this place, then maybe intentional peace can remold it.

The monks aren't lost. They're wandering with purpose, taking steady, reserved steps through a landscape whose historical trauma is buried deep beneath the surface, blessing it with something sacred, revered.

Their Walk for Peace reminds me that even the smallest, most unsuspecting or humble person, action or word can change the course of the world. We don't have to know exactly where we're going to start, but we shouldn’t ignore the steps we took to get here or step on people to get to where we’re headed.

My tattoo is a reminder: commitment without purpose is pointless. Direction without intention is chaos. America's bad tattoos are showing, and the harm it’s inflicted is coming back around on us, without regard for the past, the present or the future it ruins.

But we get to choose—every single day—whether we keep tattooing hate onto this country's face, or forge a new path built on reflection, compassion, and reparation.

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Disclaimer: This isn’t a Sandhills News, Rant or NC Local product—it's The Curious Scout, my personal newsletter exploring culture, politics, and moral courage through community-centered storytelling.