Michele Pavitt works as a freelance writer and a peer-mentor coordinator for Southern Maine Community College. She lives in Brunswick.

A few months ago, a group of Buddhist monks demonstrated that, despite the upheaval in our country, we could experience serenity if we looked within. As wars rage on multiple continents and humanitarian crises loom on others, the promise seems unthinkable.

Yet this winter, millions of Americans in virtual and in-person settings observed a “Walk for Peace,” a long-distance pilgrimage promoting human compassion and harmony. For nearly four months, 19 monks wearing maroon robes marched 2,300 miles along snow-covered backroads from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, D.C.

Among countless others in Maine and across the nation, I felt inspired by their impromptu talks and guided meditations.

The group’s leader, Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara, said he did not view the event as a protest, but as a means of demonstrating mindfulness, or present-moment awareness.

“Bring the mind back to the present moment with each and every breath going in and going out,” he said during his address at American University on Feb. 10. “If you can do that, you will have a peaceful day. If you remain practicing that every single day, you will have a peaceful life.”

The prospect sounded intriguing, and I decided to try a small experiment. I would pay attention to my breath and practice mindfulness for at least five minutes during a routine activity in a public place.

I kept this intention in mind as I pushed a shopping cart through the crowded aisles of a Midcoast Maine grocery store.

At the meat counter, a black-aproned clerk weighed a handful of thick sausages. I hummed along with the background music, an ’80s pop tune “… light of the world, shine on me, love is the answer.”

I headed toward the produce area, noticing overflowing bins of coral-pink sweet potatoes and bunches of tightly closed yellow tulips. My in-breath felt cool at the nostrils while my out-breath warmed my dry lips.

A small woman wearing a surgical mask darted in front of me and gestured to follow her. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if she mistook me for someone else. A series of questions arose in my mind and I tried to simply observe and label them: “thoughts, thoughts, thoughts,” as the venerable monk suggested.

I felt my attitude soften — her eyes smiled and she seemed trustworthy. I nodded and she took off along the narrow aisle between the shallots and arugula, and then stopped to gaze at a large wooden bin. “Lion’s mane mushrooms,” she declared. “Ever seen them before?”

Large white mushroom caps dotted a bed of delicate white strands arranged in flower-petal shapes. They looked like tentacled sea anemones pulsing in an undersea current. “What are they used for?” I whispered.

“Oh, I have no idea, I just think they’re gorgeous,” she replied.

She left without another word while I lingered there, feeling as if I were snorkeling on the surface of a warm, tropical lagoon. I later satisfied my curiosity and learned that, when seared in butter or olive oil, the delicate edges of these mushrooms become brown and caramelized, enhancing their lobster-like flavor.

Even as I left the store, I felt warmed by a sense of awe and impressed by the potential of mindfulness. Attention to the breath inserts a brief pause into the decision-making process, allowing for observation and reflection. Had I not followed a stranger around a towering pile of lettuce crates, I would have missed my chance for a two-minute Caribbean vacation.

I assume the monks would celebrate even this humble attempt at meditation practice. They would probably note, however, that time passes quickly and the world grows weary.

“How much more energy and time do we have in this world to waste? I don’t think we have much time,” said Bhikkhu Pannakara at the American University address. “Peace … is always with us but we are way too busy to see it. Slow down, look back within, and find that peace.”