“Still pain…but in my mind I’m feeling good”

Sitting in a wheelchair inside the Wat Lao Buddha Khanti of Atlanta on Tuesday afternoon, monk Phra Ajarnh Maha Dam Phommasan has a smile on his face. Kneeling around him are Laotian congregants and first time visitors, taking turns to hold out their arms and bow their heads, as he murmurs a prayer, and ties bracelets made of yarn on their wrists. Around him, the temple is buzzing with energy, as community members prepare for what’s now become an event on a scale they weren’t prepared for: a New Years Eve welcoming for the Walk for Peace monks.

Phommasan was among the nearly two dozen monks who embarked on the walk – a 2,300 mile journey that started in Fort Worth, Texas on October 26 and is expected to end in Washington D.C. on February 13. The purpose: simply to spread a message that peace starts within ourselves, and radiates outwards.

But about a month into the walk, Phommasan’s journey was cut short.

Usually, he said, “I walk in the middle,” but, “that day, I hurt my legs so much.” So he walked more slowly, falling to the back of the line, just in front of the escort car along the side of a highway near Dayton, Texas. “I only heard the break,” he said. “There’s the vehicle that struck. They struck the escort car.” The next thing he knew, he was lying flat on the ground. “I think I die. I already died.” Phommasan had been struck by the car.  

He started to hear people’s voices, asking each other what had happened. Lying there, he did a body scan. “I shake my fingers, my hands, and I shake my, I can feel my feet.” His left leg though was injured, he said, describing feeling the warm blood on it.  
Treated at a Houston hospital, doctors tried to save Phommasan’s leg. But after multiple attempts, he made the decision to have it amputated. 

Phommasan tells 285 South he feels pain, his peaceful smile unchanging. “Still pain,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “but in my mind I’m feeling good.” It’s a phantom pain, he explains, common among amputees.  “I think when I cut off, [pain] is gonna [be] gone with my foot, but when I cut it still hurt.”

Inside the red and cream carpeted floor of the temple, Phommasan is at home. He’s been living at the temple for nearly a decade. Phommasan moved to Atlanta from Laos – via Thailand- after receiving an invitation from an abbot in Atlanta, asking him to serve the local Laotians. The community in the Atlanta area has grown to around 4,000 people in the last few decades, the majority residing in the Gwinnett County – many coming to the U.S. in the aftermath of the Vietnam War. Phommasan secured an R-visa or religious workers visa, and landed at Atlanta Hartsfield in 2016, taking up a position as head monk at the Snellville temple, and spending his days doing everything from visiting community members in their homes to offer blessings, to offering advice at the temple to leading prayers and chants.

Paul Phaknikone, a congregant who’s been coming to the Snellville temple since the 1990s, said that when he learned via Instagram that the monk was hurt,  “I was shocked. I was upset,” he recalled, holding a cup of tea for monk Phomassan.  He cancelled his work meetings that day and rushed to the temple. “It was like, [an] emergency. It’s like, oh my gosh. Like, I just want him to survive, you know?”

Phommassan has been keeping up with the Walk for Peace via Facebook, which he says he checks on his phone “many, many times” every day.  

On Tuesday afternoon, as Phommasan tied blessing bracelets onto wrists inside the warm temple, hundreds of people braved the cold weather in Decatur, waiting for the Walk for Peace monks to make their way down South Candler Road. Many kept refreshing the live map that was supposed to chart their progress. “I’m trying to keep my emotions together. I’m going to cry,” one lady in a puffer jacket said to her friend. 

Just before 5pm, the monks appeared, their arrival heralded by police outriders, clearing the way. As the sun dropped below the treeline, they walked fast down over the hill, followed by a dozen police SUVs. A helicopter hovered overhead.

The presence of the monks appeared to have struck a chord. 

“People are going through so much, there are deportations, people are losing their healthcare,” said Danielle Cunningham, who was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them to arrive. “This last year, with this administration, the lord has given us a test. People want to be happy again. There’s so much hate and division. People want to become one again.”

As the monks walked past, the solemnity of the moment turned to glee as children spotted Aloka the dog in the passenger seat of a support van. An internet star in his own right, he’s been with them since their journey began. “Hi Doggy” a child called, waving to him.

Back in Snellville, Phommassan says he’s excited to be reunited with the monks, whom he hasn’t seen since they visited him at the hospital in Texas. He’s been surprised to see just how much the crowds have grown. When he started the walk, he said, there were sometimes days when they wouldn’t see anyone. “Some days until 9pm, I don’t have anybody. Not many people know us,” he said. “But now is many, many people, and listen, come out of the interest in peace, in how to bring peace to our mind,” he said. “This is a gift for me.”

Reflecting on how the accident has impacted him, he said, “In Buddhism, we learn about if you get sick, when you have suffering, [it] is a good situation to focus on. Focus on suffering,” he said, “breathe long breathing, and long breathing in and long breathing out.”  It’s a mantra he has lived by, even if it doesn’t erase pain. “I still hurt.” Still, he doesn’t harbor any ill feelings toward the driver who struck the escort car, he said. “No, no, I don’t, because I know it’s an accident. I think he’s a driver. They don’t want it.”

The accident hasn’t shaken Phommassan’s faith either, he said, in fact it’s fueled it. “I feel more strong because I can pass the hard situation. I know I can pass it. Nothing can stop me.”