Perhaps you've seen the recent viral video of a young British girl questioning a video of a girl crying when she sees big ben for the first time. She says "What has Big Ben done for you??...He's a clock love." I have linked the video here, be warned the young girl in this video uses much foul language, but it is pretty funny. I saw this video a little bit ago and I now realize that really this girl is talking to me because I have a confession. Yes I did indeed shed some tears when I came out of the underground station and really took in the House of Parliament. I was moved okay! Well first I walked up the steps out the tube and involuntarily whispered "holy mackrel" because I was totally awe struck and then I was walking and I couldn't believe how beautiful the buildings were. One of my favorite things of going places alone is that I can react however I want and really ponder what I see without fear of judgement, nobody will be exasperated or confused by my emotions. However, I have to admit I did not know that was Big Ben until finding this video to link and I thought....wait a minute that is literally what I saw today. I thought Big Ben would be, I dunno, bigger? Don't get me wrong it is a gorgeous building, but I totally thought it was just a random clock tower because I was sure Big Ben was taller. I don't really know what I was expecting, but I think it's really funny that I saw Big Ben today and didn't even realize. Maybe that reveals my ignorance, but oh well. I mean truly the House of Parliament is just so gorgeous I felt unworthy to see it. I can't believe humans made that. It's insane! If I wanna cry over a building then gosh darn it I will!! No one can stop me. So screw you young British girl, you should learn to live a little.
just think, at the time of taking this picture I had zero clue that THIS was Big Ben. Maybe the famous ferris wheel in the background should have clued me in...
Spring is coming.
I was in Westminister today not for the purpose of sight seeing necessarily, but to go to Evensong at Westminster Abbey as my form of Sunday service. I did not make it to church today because I was already going to be late and, confession time, I was actually kinda hungover because I went out with some friends last night. Whoops. Anywho, I decided Evensong at 3pm would be a perfect way to spend my Sunday and I'd been meaning to visit the Abbey. Gosh I love abbeys. They are so beautiful and holy and I feel much like Catherine does in Northanger Abbey; totally enraptured by their magical and gothic potential. I got all dressed up in my long denim skirt, a sweater, and my new old Dr Marten oxfords- Sorry someone is playing a flute right outside my window it is quite distracting- one of my favorite kinds of outfit is modest casual; long skirts and sweaters with tights and headbands. Church chic you know. I want more skirts asap, I love love love long midi and maxi length dark denim and gray skirts. Perhaps I will find one at a charity shop here, thus far my charity shop excursions have been unsucessful. One thing Americans have so much better is thrifting. Goodwill is the love of my life and they just don't have an equivalent here, it's so sad, but I digress. Westminster is a 30 minute tube ride from me, not bad at all, and because abbeys were on my mind The Sound of Music was on my mind. So I listened to some of the soundtrack on the way there and read my newest book, Never Let Me Go. I love the Maria song from The Sound of Music. It reminds me of my childhood and for unsurprising resons it is near and dear to my heart. I have often liked to imagine that I, Maria, am also a quirky nun, not quite meant for the lifestyle but dedicated to it nonetheless. I love the lyrics of Maria, it is easy to imagine they are talking about me. One of my favorite parts of the song, which never fails to make me teary eyed, is "She is gentle, she is wild, she's a riddle, she's a child! She's a headache! She's an angel! She's a girllllllll." I guess I have often felt like a problem to be solved, someone who doesn't fit in where I am supposed to and is very strange compared to my family and peers. I can be petulant, annoying, absent-minded, exhausting, aimless, and rebellious. Sometimes I think I can do nothing right at all. The way Mother Abbess sings "she's a girl" all-knowing and tender, always pierces right through my heart. It reminds me that I am not my worst traits or even my best, that despite how much of a mess I am, I am a whole, real person; a girl. Those who love me see me as myself. Sigh. It's a good reminder when I get too caught up in what I am and am not. This was all on my mind as I went to Evensong today at the Abbey. I waited in line with many tourists for the service. It was free and we weren't allowed to take any photos or videos of the service. The second I entered the Abbey I began to tear up; I just get so emotional in beautiful places, especially on my own, and especially on a Sunday. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, I'm struggling to find words to describe it. I feel ill-aquipped. It seemed impossible to me that anyone could ever have made this. It felt special that it was created as a house of the Lord. Exactly right.
How does God prove he is real? This has been a question on my mind a lot as of late. I realized last semester that I had no idea if God was real and for the first time in my whole life it mattered to me. If God wasn't real then I was talking to no one and I was pleading with nothing but air. When people spoke in church about wanting clarity and a knowledge that God was real I always thought they were silly, maybe I silently scoffed at them. Because the reality of God meant nothing to me for much of teenage years, I thought that if you wanted to believe something you should just believe it. What did it matter whether any of this was real or not if people pratice religion and believe in a higher power for comfort of some sort. I couldn't understand why you would put yourself through discomfort and grief to reach an end goal of comfort and of something you could never truly "know." Religion and belief was abstract and purely economical to me. "How do I know a thought is from God or if it is my own" was, to me, the most stupid question anyone could ever ask. Ever since I was a kid I thought why don't we just operate under if it is a good thought than it is from God understanding? I think differently now. I realize I couldn't possibly understand the desire to know when I mayself had none. But last semster, as I went through one of the toughest stretches of my life since high school and I prayed often for peace and comfort, I had a nauseting feeling that I knew nothing at all. Did I really believe in God? Was I just doing this because I had decided it was transgressive to follow a creed? Now that prayer wasn't a performance, but instead an earnest plea, who was I praying to, and was I ever going to get an answer?
These feelings which had been nagging me for months came to a head in the midst of finals. I was anxious, hurt, hopped up on caffine, lonely, and absolutely terrified that I made the wrong decision about going to London. I felt in over my head and totally clueless. In the middle of trying to write an essay I sobbed in the English building's lounge, incoherently rambling about how I didn't know anything at all and if I could just be given a sign, something to know that I'm not alone, that God was hearing my prayers and was going to answer them soon. I remember feeling hopeless, like this was all a sham and I couldn't have faith in something or someone that wasn't there at all. I can't remember why exactly I turned on "The Plan" by Low through my tears. "The Curtain Hits the Cast" was my most listened to album at the time and was Low carrying me through finals, so I guess it was just my go to music at the time. Maybe I knew it was slow and quiet, something I could cry some more to. In any case, I played "The Plan" from my computer speakers duing this total breakdown and as I listened to the song, this song which I had been listening to on repeat for weeks by a band which I had grown to adore that semester, I started to have a weird feeling that I couldn't ignore. That maybe this was a sign. A song so beautiful and touching it was unfathomable to me that someone could make it. Something told me, that still small voice I guess, that this is what I had been looking for, that there were signs all around me of God's involvement in my life and proof of his reality. How could this song be playing, meaning everything to me in that moment, if God was not real? Why would I feel that it was touched by something divine if it wasn't? I remember trying to think myself out of it. I felt like that was too simple and stupid an answer, but the thought wouldn't leave that I just had to open my heart to what I knew was all around me. I thought of the shooting star I had seen the night before on my walk home from doing school work at 5am. It was the second shooting star I'd ever seen and it made me stop in my tracks because I couldn't believe it. I made a wish that my study abroad would go okay and kept walking, now smiling to myself. On my first plane ride in my connecting flight to London I was staring out the window into the night sky, above the clouds, when I saw another shooting star. The third one I had ever seen, just a month after the last one. The last one where I had wished for the trip I was about to embark on to be alright. Signs. I turned to Mom to tell her what I had seen, but she was asleep and I didn't want to wake her so I kept it to myself, marveling at how I had seen a shooting star out my plane window.
happy people.
In the Abbey today, when I took my seat and listened to the choir sing, I looked at the stained glass windows with pointed arches and I couldn't stop quietly crying. My eyes dripped big fat tears and I was wondering to myself "Why am I crying?" I obviously loved the beauty of the arcitecture, but I wondered if I was getting anything religious out of this. With tears streaming down my face I questioned my ability to feel the spirit, that little voice in my head telling me that if God was real then I would be feeling something more. And in a moment I almost laughed at myself, because how could I think that my tears over the beauty of this place the music were not for God? How could I believe the overwhelming feeling of awe and wonder and something I couldn't describe wasn't the spirit. I was reminded of my time listening to "The Plan" in that room. I think I am starting to learn how the spirit manifests to me, how God appears in my life. It's crazy how hard it is to ignore the feeling that I'm making it all up, that I'm not feeling anything at all or maybe that it is not from God at all. I have a feeling my old ideas about belief and my dismissal of the "how do I know if a prompting is from God" question has been a bit detrimental in my journey with belief and faith. It's funny for as long as I can remember I have been an advocate of the idea that you cannot possibly know that God or the church or whatever is real and thus, you must rely soley on faith and a desire to follow. And while I don't think I was totally wrong, I think I was a kid who had little real connection to religion. Psh no wonder my early teens were all about rejecting religion, it was my destiny all along, and I don't regret it. That had to happen for me. But now I am older and I've lived a lot more life and now it all means something to me, and knowing doesn't seem like such a crazy ask anymore. I cried on and off the whole time. I am a teary-eyed girl.
I stayed for the whole service and enjoyed the sermon. The singing was gorgeous and I always enjoy doing the Sign of the Cross. I was also struck by how beautiful the word "amen" is, but I've preached enough already. After the service, I went to Greggs and got myself a delicious sausage, bean, and cheese melt. Yum. The rest of the day I have spent reading, napping, and watching Sound of Music clips. I hope you have enjoyed my especially religious Sunday update. This has been a Zombie Girl sermon! In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
yum :)