That Time Monks Walked Through Thomasville, NC

It’s not everyday you chase monks for six hours from one county to another.

It was January. I was bleak, uninspired, bored, and stuck way too deep in my head. I sat in the floor of my friend’s house, probably overthinking something. A text rolled in from another friend’s husband.

It’s also not everyday that you open a text that reads,

“Do you have any interest in photographing monks walking through Thomasville?”

I thought it was a joke or a hoax. I texted his wife, the grounded, rational realist among us (thank goodness for grounded people), and asked if this was legitimate or not. People do some crazy things, but in Davidson County? And the small, run down commuter town, where I was born and raised?

No way.

All the “cool” happenings always take place in the surrounding cities. The beaten up commuter towns and suburbs are often like the overlooked kid in school. There’s still beauty and potential within, but people judge the book by its cover and brush it aside.

Like any good millennial would do, I did a quick Google search.

Apparently, Buddhist monks were walking from Texas all the way to D.C.

And indeed, they were walking through the overlooked, untouched, beaten up suburbs of Lexington and Thomasville, NC. I was in disbelief. I love small towns and even dingy areas, but most visitors of passerbys want the five star experience.

Our small towns offer hole in the wall diners, abandoned furniture factories, and the best southern waitresses, who will call you “Honey” or “Sugar” or “Baby” or “Sweetie” and it’s 100% platonic, not fancy hotels and $15 avocado toast.

I was an hour away from all the happenings, and my friends kept a group chat going, as we neurotically tracked and predicted whereabout and whenabout the monks would come through the exact neighborhoods, side streets, and commuter towns we ourselves grew up in.

I threw my camera gear in my car, grabbed a bunch of extra layers, and hopped in a suburban with my friends and their two year old.

There was something really special about seeing entire roads lined with small town folk. It’s not that we saw these monks as gods or immortals or some higher power, but rather, humans who treated other humans with utmost value, compassion, and sacredness.

For the next six hours, we scouted out where they’d be walking, ran in snow to take photos, and never in my life have I seen Thomasville, NC lined up from downtown all the way to Business 85.

There was a unity among people, not because of religious ideology, but because there was a shared curiosity and eagerness for these interesting people walking through an otherwise untouched, unseen place.

The next morning, I woke up and checked my phone’s map to see if I could track them again. I was exhausted from running around in the cold and snow the day before, but something in me wanted to find them just one more time.

I threw all my gear into the car again, guesstimated where they’d likely pass through, parked in one of the most otherwise sketchiest parts of town, and saw another row of eager strangers lined up.

It was like two entirely different worlds and cultures meeting for the first time.

There was something really sweet about seeing people from all different walks of life.

One woman, a cigarette in hand, said she lived across the street. Another woman gave her children flowers to offer. Families, business owners, moms, different social classes and ethnicities, youngsters and elderly all gathered.

The excitement and joy was almost palpable. At the sight of the first police car, everyone huddled together to catch a glimpse of such a historical event.

There was no obnoxious motive to be seen, admired, or worshipped like celebrities. They simply walked. I noticed they’d intentionally stop for children and those who were physically disabled.

Suddenly, people from the street leaned in and gathered closer.

I carefully walked over with my camera.

They extended a hand and spoke a blessing over a young man in a wheelchair.

If compassion and human connection could be palpable, this moment was such.

I found myself wrestling a lot of different thoughts:

Is it wrong to feel connected to this? Am I unintentionally giving this too much power? Does this reflect my Christian beliefs?

And then a fellow friend and photographer so kindly said to me,

“…I think maybe you’re less moved by the ritual aspect of the photo and more by the humanity aspect. What I mean by that is the care being shown for another person (in your photo) is a common grace that we all share in by being made in God’s image. That’s what Christ does for us. He loves and cares for us in our most helpless state. And that resonates on a Christian level regardless of the beliefs being exercised by your subjects…”