Kama Muta and Why the Monks Make Me Cry

How a 2,300-mile walk for peace awakened a universal emotion that connects our shared humanity.

Imagine all the people living life in peace.

~ John Lennon

I recently came across the term kama muta in a news article, a phrase coined from Sanskrit and often translated as ‘moved by love’ or ‘undone by love.’ It is experienced as warmth or fullness in the chest, tears rising unexpectedly, a catch in the throat, or even chills and goosebumps. We tend to feel it when we witness profound kindness, compassion, or moments of genuine human connection and love.

The word itself was coined by the University of Oslo-based Kama Muta Lab, an international group of researchers who noticed that while people everywhere recognize this surge of feeling, many languages lack a precise way to name it scientifically. Seeking a term that carried depth without modern cultural baggage, the lab’s founders, UCLA anthropologist Alan Fiske and University of Oslo psychologist Beate Seibt, turned to Sanskrit. They chose kama muta to describe this distinct social-relational emotion when the heart is suddenly opened by love.

There was an immediate familiarity when I read this, finally a term to describe a feeling I’ve experienced so often. Over the past few months, I have felt repeated waves of kama muta while watching videos or reading about the Buddhist monks who walked to Washington, DC on a pilgrimage for peace. Beginning at the Hương Đạo Vipassana Bhavana Center, a Vietnamese Theravada Buddhist monastery in Fort Worth, Texas, they walked 2,300 miles in 110 days. To put that in perspective, that’s close to a marathon’s worth of miles every day for four months.

Step by mindful step, they moved through rain, snow, and unforeseen challenges, sustained by an unwavering faith. Their journey was a trust fall spanning a continent as they relied entirely on the decency of strangers. Again and again, their faith was met by the kindness of others. Local communities opened churches and homes to offer shelter. People lined the streets to share water, food, and warm winter clothing with these robed men they did not know.

And then there was Aloka (lit. divine light in Pali), the rescued pariah dog who accompanied them. A stray from the streets of Kolkata, he somehow chose to adopt these monks on an earlier pilgrimage in India. Despite surgery and health issues, Aloka matched them step for step on the Walk for Peace, capturing the hearts of millions around the world.

What was it about these monks and Aloka that moved the hearts and minds of so many? What stirred thousands of people, from every background and walk of life, to line the streets, offering flowers, kneeling to receive their blessings, and finding themselves moved to tears? We were all touched by love, by kama muta, or by what Dacher Keltner describes as ‘moral beauty’ in his research on awe and wonder. 

For me, the feeling arises from the same place within me that fractures open whenever I hear John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s song Imagine. Something catches in my throat each time it plays. Perhaps it’s the way the song carries a vision large enough to hold some of our deepest hopes and longing, a peaceful world where we no longer harm one another for land, possessions, or in the name of religion. Or perhaps it is the grief that comes from seeing how far we still are from such peace. In the case of the monks, it may have been the strength of their conviction, the simplicity and universality of their message, or their profound compassion for the suffering of all beings. Whatever the reason, I found myself following their journey day after day for weeks, a welcome and wholesome antidote to the otherwise unsettling daily news.

I have felt kama muta often in my meditation practice as well, surprised to emerge from silence to discover my face wet with tears. This is not a love directed to anyone in particular, but a recognition of our exposed nerves and our shared presence in this brief existence. Kama muta resonates deeply with karuna, or compassion. The tears of kama muta and the tears of karuna are born of the same ache, from the recognition of our common fragility. These moments in meditation arrive unbidden. They come when the ego shell is thin enough for love to overwhelm the heart. The 14th century Persian poet Hafiz captured this thinning perfectly when he wrote:

Love has befriended me so completely it has turned to ash and freed me of every concept and image my mind ever knew.

At the closing gathering in Washington, DC, Bhikkhu Bodhi spoke of the Walk for Peace as one of the most important events to take place in the United States in the 21st century, because it revealed something essential about our shared humanity. He reflected on how people of every race, faith, and background came together to affirm kindness and compassion, reminding us that beneath our differences we are bound in a web of mutuality. The true significance of the walk was not in the miles traveled but in the possibility it awakened of a world where we each recognize one another’s humanity.

The full measure of this walk is yet to be seen. A moral act of courage does not end at the final mile marker. It ripples outward in widening circles, touching hearts, shaping conversations, and planting seeds of awareness in ways beyond our ken. Each step taken in mindfulness, each offering of loving kindness received along the road, becomes part of a larger karmic field of goodness. The monks spoke of peace, compassion, and living with greater care for one another. If their journey has stirred even a small turning of the heart in those who witnessed it, then its ripples are already moving through us. And maybe, just maybe the vision of Imagine will begin to feel less distant. 

For now, I’m just glad we have this delightful phrase, kama muta. May we be moved by love, again and over again.

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