Peace be with You

A few things I’ve learned about London: a weekend in the summer is not a good time to visit. There are crowds of tourists everywhere. Lines are long and many, though quick-moving.  If there’s a short line for the toilet anywhere, take advantage! (the toilet lines at the Tower of London: non-existent. Westminster Abbey: don’t waste your time.) If you mistakenly buy the wrong train ticket, the man in the black jacket making you pay the very big fine will not have mercy, despite pleadings of ignorance. Cornish pasties are only good upon consumption, but later? Gut bomb. Despite multiple, daily, scientific testing of various brands of espresso from street stands, none compare to what I get in Seattle for twice the price.  You can avoid the worst crowds in the popular places if you go just before closing and wait to get kicked out by the staff. The downside, of course, is that you don’t actually have time to see much.

Here’s something else I’ve found: despite the teeming crowds seemingly gathered from all the nations, it is indeed possible to find peace. Solitude.

I had an epiphany sitting on the edge of the fountain in front of Buckingham Palace, slowly digesting my Cornish pasty and burning time before the production of Wicked began. Threads of the song “I Will Exalt You” ran through my head, so I plugged in my iPod. I will exalt you; you are my God. My hiding place, my safe refuge, my treasure Lord you are. Anointed One most holy. Because you’re with me, I will not fear. Suddenly the frantic sounds of traffic, horns honking, and humanity faded. It was just me and God, alone together, sitting in the sun, surrounded by hundreds of people.

I had a similar experience in the British Museum the next day. That famous home of antiquity, accompanied by the soundtrack to Out of Africa became a place of transcendence and art.  It was yet another place mobbed by tourists like myself. The Rosetta Stone, my main reason for hunting down the museum, was surrounded by a multi-lingual crowd four people deep. In went the earphones, though, and I gradually felt my body wind down from the tension of being in such a place.

It’s interesting, and somewhat surprising I guess, that these places so filled with crowds and noise can actually be ‘thin places.’ I love this term—it’s one I only recently learned—that defines places where the veil between heaven and earth is quite thin. I left on this pilgrimage just over a week ago with the purpose of seeking out thin places, just not expecting to find them in the city.

My friend Leah, an old high school chum who’s just been ordained in the Anglican church, reminded me over breakfast this morning that people go on pilgrimages to places. So where am I going? A farm in Yorkshire? Iona? No, those are just stops along the journey. I’m not really sure yet, but I am excited about this journey I’m on.