We drove from Virginia to see Buddhist monks—and found an unexpected community

As Buddhist monks led a Walk for Peace through a nearby town, I became part of an unexpected community, discovering how shared waiting, conversation, and peace can quietly bring people together.

“Time to get up, boys. I’d like to leave in about 30 minutes,” I said, tussling the towel through my dripping hair as I, a full-time working mom, bellowed down the hallway at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday.

My husband was first to roll out of bed. Our 8-year-old son was first to groan, “It’s too early, and I want to go back to sleep.”

The night before, we’d made rather spontaneous plans to wake up before the sun to drive down to Spencer, North Carolina, to see a group of Buddhist monks on a Walk for Peace. 

I’d heard about their journey from Fort Worth, Texas, to Washington, DC, a couple weeks prior to their arrival in the Tar Heel state, and I’d casually observed their daily trek through Facebook and Instagram reels that appeared on my algorithm. The more videos I saw, the more invested I became in their safety, wellbeing, and mission—and their faithful dog, Aloka, was cute too.  

Since I call Southside home, I often joke that I live closer to “anything” in North Carolina than I do in Virginia. So when I saw that the monks’ itinerary included a variety of stops in our sister state, I grew even more curious—especially when I discovered they’d only be a couple of hours away from my home.  

Saturday, Jan. 17 was the day. The North Carolina Transportation Museum served as the monks’ lunch stop, and they were set to arrive around 10:30 a.m. We got there about an hour before their scheduled break—and my husband and child looked at me like I was crazy for getting there so early because less than 100 people had gathered so far. 

We stood and waited, stood and waited, and stood and waited some more. It was 30-some degrees, there was light snow falling at times, and the wind was blowing. But we had a pretty clear view of the area Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara planned to do his speech—so we stayed put, especially as the crowd grew larger.

Around the time the monks were supposed to arrive, the crew traveling ahead of the walkers made an announcement: They were running behind schedule, and would arrive around noon. My husband walked across the street to Family Dollar to get a blanket for the three of us to wrap up in while we waited. He ran into a group of protesters—and no, the irony wasn’t lost on us that they were protesting… peace? Weird. Anyway, that’s another column for another day.  

But, interestingly, those protesters actually sparked conversation among the people around us. Before that, we’d only exchanged light pleasantries—not meaningful connections. The disappointing way the protesters (who loudly “professed” to be Christians) conducted themselves was embarrassing, especially to me as a Christian, and their so-called message was completely misinformed. Those of us there for peace—including the moms in front of us and their 7-year-old daughter, Amelia—talked about the ridiculousness of that display. 

Then, as 7- and 8-year-olds are known to do, Colton and Amelia quickly found common ground. Within minutes, they were chatting and playing like old friends—sharing blankets, a fold-out chair, even toys. That led to Kody and me talking with Amelia’s moms. They’d traveled from about half an hour away, but had once lived in Asheville, NC, one of our favorite places. Come to find out, so had a few others standing in our general area.

We talked about local restaurants there, both past and present, and marveled at how the small mountain community had blossomed into a hub of arts and expression. We took turns leaving our post to walk along the route, watching hundreds of people line the street to catch a glimpse of the approaching monks. We met people from nearby Salisbury, NC, who’d moved from Philadelphia decades earlier, a woman who lived near Charlotte and had seen the monks at two other stops, and even an elderly woman who asked me if my husband of nearly 10 years and I were newlyweds because our love was so apparent. 

Together, we joked that if we were the monks (and didn’t have their signature patience), we’d have already hopped the train tracks leading to the transportation museum to get out of the cold. Or that we’d be doing a Run for Peace instead of a walk. I can’t think of another time I’ve waited for something—like a late-starting concert for example—where the crowd was laughing together. Sharing together. Enjoying just being there together. But that’s what this experience was like.

The venerable monks continue on their Walk for Peace toward Washington, DC. (Amie Knowles/Dogwood)

Then, the time came: Around noon, the monks made their way up the street (which, from where we were standing, we couldn’t see). They paused to rest and then moved into a patio area for lunch. Photography and/or videography were not allowed, and talking was limited amongst the crowd of, they estimated, 1,000 people. 

Around 1 p.m.—when their lunch visit was originally scheduled to end—Pannakara, the leader of the group, stepped to the microphone and delivered an hour-long talk. The topic, as you might’ve guessed, was peace. But it went beyond a simple call for harmony. He taught attendees about mindfulness, the value of putting cell phones away at times, and the importance of self-reflection.  

Pannakara instructed everyone to repeat the phrase: “Today will be my peaceful day.” 

When the talk ended, the monks passed out peace bracelets. Seeing my child reach out his little hands to accept one felt so special. He turned and looked at me with the biggest smile on his face. Later, at lunch across the street, he radiated pride over that thin piece of string—it was a tangible reminder of the experience.

Colton Knowles, age 8, receives a bracelet during the Walk for Peace. (Amie Knowles/Dogwood)

While we were eating, the monks started the evening portion of their Walk for Peace. Colton and I—along with half of the diners—hurried outside to see them off. Watching their line leave the small town, I teared up. Just seeing people lining the streets—some offering flowers, my own kid bowing in respect—was really moving, knowing that we were all there hoping for and supporting a better world. 

Afterward, my family hung around in the area for a little while. We visited the transportation museum where my husband’s great-great-grandfather’s Shay No. 1925 steam locomotive resides, and did a little shopping in the area. By the time we got on the road back to Virginia, all three of us were exhausted. Colton even took a rare nap. Kody and I reflected on the spontaneity of the past 24 hours, still buzzing from the day. 

“You know,” I said to my husband, “I didn’t have traveling to see a group of monks on a Walk for Peace on my 2026 BINGO card, but I’m glad it happened.” 

And while the visit itself was undeniably moving, the main takeaway from our journey that day wasn’t actually seeing the monks. No, it was the people we met along the way—those we befriended while waiting for the walkers’ arrival, as well as those we talked to afterward. It was a beautiful human connection, all in the spirit of peace.

If you’re interested in seeing the group on their walk to DC, they’re scheduled to arrive in Virginia on Wednesday, Jan. 28. They plan to cross the state line near Gasburg as they travel toward South Hill, then up to Richmond. Click here to access a live map of their daily journey, and here to see the overview of their trip from start to finish.