Strolling, Saying Yes, & a New Way to Pray

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As I stroll along the South Bank of the Thames River with my friend and co-worker, Meera, a shy, petite Indian girl, it dawns on me that not everyone enjoys aimless wandering around London. Perhaps people like to actually plan. Perhaps Meera might like to do something with her trip to London.

"Hey, Meera?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to see a movie or something?"

"Ok, but where is a theater?"

"I don't know, but there has to be one somewhere around here." And we fall back into silent walking.

I'm completely content. Calm. The sky is clear, the river is beautiful, and the now-familiar bulidings that line the river smile at me like old friends. We pass by a tiny shop near Southwark Cathedral that has paella simmering outside while an energetic guy simultaneously works the grill and calls to people to come and eat. Sold! Paella is native to Valencia, Spain, and is absolutely divine! Meera has never heard of it, but I'm so enthusiastic, she decides to buy some, too. One of the things I love about London is all the fantastic restaurants, the ethnic food. It's not as expensive as people say. You just walk along and see something interesting, and BAM! Food heaven!

We chat about school and how it's going for her still in the science department and how it is for me now that I've changed to humanities. I like humanities WAAAAY better! I get more help with planning!

The Royal Theatre on the South Bank apparently doesn't show your typical Blockbuster feature films; it's more indie and artsy. Since we aren't feelin' that at the moment, we walk on. Through Soho, through Covent Garden, through Piccadilly. On to Leceister Square, the movie theatre Mecca of London. The only thing showing right now is Yes Man, starring Jim Carrey. So we look at each other and nod, saying, "Yes!"

Great film, interesting message: if you say yes to more invitations, suggestions, and questions, your life will open up to you in exciting ways. Jim Carrey's character was stagnant in his life until a friend convinces him to say yes more. Suddenly he's meeting new people, doing things he never would have dreamed of doing (some good, and some not-so-good). Although I know it isn't a good idea to say yes to absolutely everything, I agree with the idea of being open to life and not living in a stagnant box forever.

After the film, we walk out into the busy night, looking around for what to do next. "Want to go to a comedy club?" Meera asks. "I've been wanting to go to one, and I got a flyer from a guy earlier which says a show will start in the next thirty minutes."

Directly in front of us is a small group of people dancing and beating drums cheerfully. The accompanying music is beautiful and joyful, and the people throw their hands up and clap and hop. They are wearing Indian-ish clothes, and one smiling man holds a sign that says, "Chant Hare Krishna, and Be Happy!"

Don't mind if I do! I think, as I approach the group. I'm completely drawn to them, fascinated, feeling warm inside. They see me coming and wave me over, encouraging me to join. A white lady with a long blond braid down her back grabs my hand and pulls me into a dancing circle with the ladies. The music pulses merrily and we hop and spin. One man sings a little phrase like, "Hare Krishna, Krishna Hare, Hare!" And everyone repeats it.

"What does it mean?" I ask the blond lady.

"It's just different names for God," she explains while we dance. "Some people call Him God or Allah or Yahweh. God has many names, and we sing the names of God to praise Him and thank Him."

My heart sings. I'm meant to be here right now.

Meera stands off to the side, smiling, watching, looking like she wants to join in, but she feels too shy. I smile and beckon for her to join me. She looks around nervously, then steps into the outskirts of the group, bouncing a little with the music, timidly joining us.

People passing by stop to watch. Some look bored, some are rolling their eyes and making fun of it, some laugh and join in just for the fun of dancing and because the music is so happy. But they don't stay long. They dance for about five minutes and then leave before someone thinks they actually like things like this.

I don't want to stop dancing; I don't want to stop singing God's name.

Meera's eyes are closed and a big, serene smile lights up her face as she claps and kicks her feet with the rhythm.

A light rain begins to fall. Normally, I would rush to grab my umbrella, but now, I don't care if my hair gets messed up. I laugh and dance and sing God's name over and over. Big round drops of water fall from the stars like kisses on my cheeks. I close my eyes and allow gratitude to rush up my spine.

And that's how we came to be at Leceister Square, dancing and singing "Hare Krishna" in the rain.

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Photos

Meera & I on the South Bank
We were trying to capture St. Paul's Cathedral and the Waterloo Bridge in the background, but it's too dark.