When selecting a place of serenity, a spot where balance can be found, what does the mind’s eye envision?
Maybe you’re envisioning a quiet, blissful seating area near a serene pond, glistening with sunlight. Or, perhaps you imagine standing near a calm, cool glade, watching the stars slowly rise above the horizon.
I offer a different option.
On your next Zen walk, try a train station. More specifically, try Paddington Station in London.
For even more specificity, find that spot in Paddington Station in London, in the walkway between the National Rail and Bakerloo underground lines. You’ll know the spot if you align your senses correctly and tune into the fine balance point that exists there.
You’ll likely miss that spot the first time you get there. I know I passed by it many times on my weekly commute from London to Swindon and back.
But when you find it, it’s magical.
I found it on a cool-ish winter day. Winter is never bitterly harsh in London, but it does get dangerously cold for those who aren’t bundled up well.
On this particular day, I realised I’d never pass by this route for a long long time, perhaps forever. When that thought struck like a bell, I happened to look over to the side of the walkway-bridge that allowed us commuters to cross over the National Rail trains waiting for people to climb aboard.
And there it was.
Tucked away, in plain sight, in the midst of the bustle of the crowded mass of emotional vessels that is humanity, was the balancing point that nearly slipped away unnoticed that day.
I broke away from the herd of people to make my way to the railing of the walkway. It wasn’t terribly difficult to do so – although the stream of people were steady, I’d learnt how to move in a way that prevented being trod upon.
From this vantage point I could experience and mentally count off the zen balancing points very easily.
My warm breath collided with the cold, lifeless air to form the ghostly steam that quickly dissipated after every breath.
Balance #1.
I pulled off my gloves to touch the metal railing and was met with the sense of shock that always comes with temperature differences.
Balance #2.
The enormous, cavernous, covered station encased large, impressive machines of steel and glass which in turn carried and protected smaller, but more impressive machines of blood, guts, glory and anguish. This provided thoughts of grandeur and the immense tininess of us all.
Balance #3.
The clatter, chatter, and general crowd noise behind me stopped dead as it hit the wall of immenseness in front of me. I could hear the sounds from the station below us – the announcements of the arrivals and departures, the squeals from brakes, the occasional cry from a child. However the wall of sound behind me was not echoed in front of me as I gazed upon the scene. Having spent what seems like a lifetime travelling with others in narrow, echo-ey places, I knew not hearing the sound behind me bounce back told the story of the size of the view.
Balance #4.
I raised my phone to capture an image of the moment, but the image was dark and blurred. There was no way the bright, cheerful flash from my tiny cameraphone was going to light up the giant, dim, covered station that stretched before me.
Balance #5.
For me, this moment in time and space was a critical one. I was between worlds, fighting a battle that spanned two continents. This was the reason my search for peace sought and found this location, one of the last memorable sights I would take in from this place.
Balance #6.
That moment, like all moments, came and went and has been long gone.
But the power stored in that moment, and that place, is one that will remain for a very long time.