Across the Universe

May 1
On this day I saw one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful, man-made thing I’ve ever laid eyes on: St. Paul’s Cathedral. It simply took my breath away with its beauty and majesty. A picture can simply not do it justice because no picture could convey the sheer size of the place. Walking in and seeing all the gold and the marble columns, I felt like in Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring when the great hall of Khazad-dum becomes illuminated. I actually got chills. It was just so beautiful and awe-inspiring. You can see the dome of St. Paul’s from anywhere in London, and when you actually get inside and under the dome, the size and height just completely overwhelm you. I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of reaction before to any man-made place or thing. Later, walking through the Cathedral, I listened to the soundtrack of Lord of the Rings at that particular part.
St. Paul’s is relatively new for a London landmark, dating only from the 17th century. The brilliant architect Sir Christopher Wren designed it, and while I walked around the cathedral, an historian/tour guide dressed as Wren talked to a group of schoolchildren and explained the history and architecture of the building. I tried to listen as much as I could, although I did not join the school children on the black-and-white tiled floor. The Cathedral had several close calls in WWII; British forces successfully defused a bomb that had struck the cathedral that, if exploded, would have completely destroyed the building. London does not have many skyscrapers, so St. Paul’s is still visible from pretty much anywhere in London.
I climbed all 439 steps up to the very top of St. Paul’s. The actual climb itself, aside from the magnificent view, was incredible. First of all, you have to climb most of those steps on stone spiral staircases. You then walk through the narrowest of corridors made of stone with ceilings so low I had to watch my head. It felt magical. I felt like I was in some magical, mythical setting or in some fairy tale. And once I got to the top and stepped out, I lost my breath. I could see forever. The wind blew furiously, and ominously grey clouds loomed overhead, but I felt on top of the world. It really felt awesome and important. I took picture after picture of the view. I looked in all directions and tried to find other places I had visited. With my hair blowing around me looking out over the stone wall, I felt like some mythical princess on a tower, looking out at an enchanted landscape.
We all know that I am not a religious person, but in St. Paul’s I actually felt sacred and spiritual. In that space with its dome and gold and beauty, it is impossible not to feel in some way spiritual. I had previously considered Westminster Abbey my favorite church in the world, but St. Paul’s now has that honor. I had a bit of a revelation—I had always wondered why so many churches have such gilded, decorate ceilings. St. Paul’s in particular has a magnificent ceiling. Finally I understood; when you look up, you see the glory of god.
Westminster Abbey has a kind of whimsical atmosphere, but St. Paul’s has a much more somber atmosphere. Maybe it’s because sound echoes so well in there, or maybe it’s because the marble shines so brightly. Or maybe because St. Paul’s has a more military bent to it—both Lord Nelson and the Duke of Wellington, Britain’s top two military heroes, have their tombs here. St. Paul’s also hosted Winston Churchill’s state funeral, and this fact and its close calls during the Blitz have turned it into a symbol of Britain’s strength during WWII, its “finest hour.” St. Paul’s also has memorials to the many wars that Britain has fought and memorials to specific war heroes like Florence Nightingale and T.E. Lawrence. Most people know St. Paul’s as the venue for Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s wedding.
I would waste my breath trying to describe St. Paul’s Cathedral in words. You simply have to see it to believe it. While I had a sense of history at Westminster Abbey, at St. Paul’s I truly got a sense of the spiritual. During class, we each had to do a little show and tell about a piece of art we had seen. Most people came in describing art that they had seen on walls in galleries and museums. I talked about St. Paul’s, which incorporates art in every square inch. The whole building is a work of art. And this art actually has purpose—to bring people together and show them the beauty of God, King, and Country. In St. Paul’s, thousands of people can gather together and experience this art together. This beauty does not just hang on a wall—it is beauty for beauty’s sake, and for the sake of the country and its faith.
I then walked over the Millennium footbridge to the Globe theatre, a replica of the theatres of Shakespeare’s day. While I theatre itself provided lots of interest to drama nerds like myself, sadly, the production of King Lear did not.

May 2
Not only does London have many, many treasures of British culture, it also holds many treasures from the rest of the world. Most of these reside in the British Museum. Depending on whom you ask, Britain either stole many of these objects from their colonies, or decided to keep them safe and secure from overseas turmoil. I happen to hold with the latter view. With all the war and unrest in the Middle East and Mediterranean world, if Britain had not taken the Rosetta Stone, the Assyrian gates, or the Elgin marbles into its safekeeping, who knows what could have happened to these priceless treasures? On this day a year ago, I spent the entire day at the British Museum.
I let myself wander all over the museum with no real set plan. The British Museum kindly does not charge admission, so it tends to get quite crowded. I saw all the Egyptian, Greek, and early European collections. And it really did affect me. I just couldn’t believe that all of these things have survived literally thousands of years and that it is still all so beautiful. One thought kept coming back to me: “If the ancient world had this much beauty in it, we haven’t moved forward. We’ve moved backward.” Stone carvings from Egypt and Assyria and marble friezes from ancient Greece have retained all of their majesty and beauty, but where has all the majesty gone from today’s world? The world today has none of the majesty or mystery on display in the British Museum—no sense of awe.
And compared to all of the stone and metalwork in the museum, today’s world also has no artistry. As I looked at all of these objects that have survived so many years, I kept thinking about how much labor and artistry went into all of them. I can’t imagine the skill necessary to carve granite into statutes, or to make ropes of gold, or to etch figures into silver plates. It boggles my mind to think of how much time, care, and inspiration went into every object in there. And how many other treasures did not survive or lie still undiscovered under desert sands in far off countries?
At many times during my London journey, I had the feeling of living in the wrong time. I’ve always felt that I did not belong to the 1990s and 2000s. I’ve always felt that I belonged in at least a different decade, if not a different century or millennium. This feeling came up particularly strongly at the British Museum. I belong to a time of marble, stone, and metal, not of plastic. I belong to a time of the Odyssey, Beowulf, or Shakespeare. Why do all of these objects (for really, they are just objects) call to me so much? Why do pieces of porcelain, metal, and stone provoke in me such a wistful longing to return to the place and times of their making?
The British Museum also made me think strongly of Lord of the Rings. Reading the novel and watching the movies, I constantly wish that I could see up close those things that Tolkien describes. He gives even inanimate objects a history and a life. In the British Museum you can see the very kind of things that Tolkien envisioned—swords carried by kings, beautiful and quite possible magical rings, helmets and goblets and carved pillars of stone.
The British Museum offers a rare opportunity: to travel to all corners of the globe and to travel back in time to the distant past, all without leaving the confines of one very large building in Bloomsbury. I took full advantage of that opportunity. I walked through the museum and imagined myself in different times and places, trying to wrap my head around all of these different cultures and people and beliefs. If the museum had to give all the sarcophagi back to Egypt, the carved Lion Gates of Ninevah back to Iraq, or the Elgin marbles back to Greece, a small number of courageous travelers would have to go to multiple unstable places to see these treasures. In the British Museum, millions more travelers can see these treasures in one stop and still come away with a different idea of the areas from whence they come.