Ruminations on
Walking up the spiral staircase between the Whisper and the Stone galleries in St. Paul Cathedral is delightfully meditative. I sit here on a bench-like outcropping on which I presume not many have sat. At six feet tall, even I had a hard time pushing myself up, using a stair to sort of launch myself. I might sit here for a bit and watch people make the trek up. I snuck a picture. Shh, don’t tell. It’s funny, I thought I could sit in the Whisper Gallery forever, but I’d rather stay here. Much more private. I just watched the rest of my classmates pass by. I feel like a gargoyle.
The architecture and art of this building are some of the best in the world and yet I sit here perfectly content in a bland stairwell.
It’s fun listening to people’s breath, understanding how prepared, or unprepared, they were for the climb, listening to their steps. Who rushes to the top, just wanting to get to the end? Who takes their time? Taking in the full experience. Usually a person’s climbing tactic is fitting, a young couple racing to the top so they can have their romantic moment peering over the entire city of London. Or an older couple taking their time because they have had years of romantic moments and only care that they are together. I wonder if I fit the look of someone who sits and watches.
Hearing steps approach. Seeing people pass. Conversing with those who stop. Listening as they fade away. I must be near the top because steps disappear at a point rather than continuing to fade. I wonder if people become embarrassed after they see me. No one would think anyone is listening to their struggle in this tiny stairwell. Who would want to stay in this confined space? Well, who except me.
A couple rushes past. The girl is beaming from ear to ear as her boyfriend lollygags behind. So many people have guided tours whispering in their ear. How can you take it all in like that? I feel like the earphones would cancel out all the sound around you.
I give words of encouragement to a French woman, “I think you’re almost there. I don’t know, but I stop hearing people after a point.”
I hope I didn’t give her false hope. I think I might have. Her strong steps continue past where they usually stop. Sorry, mate. I think I’ll start counting steps the next time a loud person passes. And then I’ll continue on. I’ve been here too long. But also, not long enough. I might ask to stay after we meet in the crypt. I feel I’ll get more out of sitting in my corner rather than at the next market we plan to visit. As long as I take a bathroom break first….
13 and I lose hearing. I’ll try again, I hear a good candidate coming.
I was wrong. I think people quiet down after they see me. Fuck shame. I need to wait for a bigger, older man. They seem to be the least shameful in their steps. It seems to also have something to do with whether someone is coming up behind them. The new steps drown out the old.
29. Lost. People started talking. I pick it up again but it’s too late, I lost count. I hear workers fiddling with a door and keys below me. SLAM. Quiet. Fiddle. Quiet. More steps.
Groups confuse my counting and my bladder might get the best of me. Perhaps I’ll ask someone to stomp up. No, that’s cheating. A larger lady almost topples over as she tries to keep up with her friends, all of whom are blonde.
I have to continue on.
“S’cuse me, do you know how many steps there are?”
“I don’t, I’ve been trying to count but I keep losing track.”
She chuckles and continues.
I’m going to wait until I can continue the trek on my own. A wave of people has started up. A man walks past and notices a sign I hadn’t seen.
“ No smoking?” He chuckles, “No joke.”
Jesus, the wave is never ending. My feet fall asleep, but it’s time to move. A bass starts humming a tune above me. I can’t move my feet, I’m going to miss my chance! It turns out to be my whole legs. I knock them on the wall. Let’s goooo. I start up anyways, I’m not missing the calm because of this.
13 steps up there’s an actual bench. No wonder I keep losing steps.
26 - another.
39 - I’m starting to see a trend.
51 - I see light. There’s a cross roads.
57 - I’m on the top, it’s raining. All the coins that I took out for street performers falls out of my pockets. Some are lost. I pick them up and they fall again. Oh well. It’ll make someone’s day. I snap pictures of the city, not bothering to check if they turn out, it’s too cold.
The next stretch is metal spiral stairs. No longer confined, completely open. Much more terrifying. I’m no longer comforted. I shake as I write. I’m not scared of heights, I’m scared of falling.
The steps turn to stone. Makes me wonder what was here before the metal ones. I’m actually glad its rainy, the skyline is amazing with the clouds covering the tops of the buildings. It’s very Londonesque.
The stairway down is even narrower than the one up. I’d hate to be fat here. Especially because they give you no warning at the beginning; you could get all the way to the top and then be unable to go back down. It’s back to the metal stairs, I back up to move out of the way and trip. My heart stops until I fall against a wall. No more walking and writing.
Walking back down feels like a victory. The benches are fenced off so there’s no stopping on the way back. The walk down feels much shorter than the one up. Thank God. I might pee my pants at this point. I’m glad I did this on my own, I think I’m going to stop asking people to join me when I do things. I need to be more independent.
I make it to the cathedral floor, then the crypt. I rush past everything feeling like I’m about to burst. As I sit on the toilet, I feel like I am truly victorious.
The architecture and art of this building are some of the best in the world and yet I sit here perfectly content in a bland stairwell.
It’s fun listening to people’s breath, understanding how prepared, or unprepared, they were for the climb, listening to their steps. Who rushes to the top, just wanting to get to the end? Who takes their time? Taking in the full experience. Usually a person’s climbing tactic is fitting, a young couple racing to the top so they can have their romantic moment peering over the entire city of London. Or an older couple taking their time because they have had years of romantic moments and only care that they are together. I wonder if I fit the look of someone who sits and watches.
Hearing steps approach. Seeing people pass. Conversing with those who stop. Listening as they fade away. I must be near the top because steps disappear at a point rather than continuing to fade. I wonder if people become embarrassed after they see me. No one would think anyone is listening to their struggle in this tiny stairwell. Who would want to stay in this confined space? Well, who except me.
A couple rushes past. The girl is beaming from ear to ear as her boyfriend lollygags behind. So many people have guided tours whispering in their ear. How can you take it all in like that? I feel like the earphones would cancel out all the sound around you.
I give words of encouragement to a French woman, “I think you’re almost there. I don’t know, but I stop hearing people after a point.”
I hope I didn’t give her false hope. I think I might have. Her strong steps continue past where they usually stop. Sorry, mate. I think I’ll start counting steps the next time a loud person passes. And then I’ll continue on. I’ve been here too long. But also, not long enough. I might ask to stay after we meet in the crypt. I feel I’ll get more out of sitting in my corner rather than at the next market we plan to visit. As long as I take a bathroom break first….
13 and I lose hearing. I’ll try again, I hear a good candidate coming.
I was wrong. I think people quiet down after they see me. Fuck shame. I need to wait for a bigger, older man. They seem to be the least shameful in their steps. It seems to also have something to do with whether someone is coming up behind them. The new steps drown out the old.
29. Lost. People started talking. I pick it up again but it’s too late, I lost count. I hear workers fiddling with a door and keys below me. SLAM. Quiet. Fiddle. Quiet. More steps.
Groups confuse my counting and my bladder might get the best of me. Perhaps I’ll ask someone to stomp up. No, that’s cheating. A larger lady almost topples over as she tries to keep up with her friends, all of whom are blonde.
I have to continue on.
“S’cuse me, do you know how many steps there are?”
“I don’t, I’ve been trying to count but I keep losing track.”
She chuckles and continues.
I’m going to wait until I can continue the trek on my own. A wave of people has started up. A man walks past and notices a sign I hadn’t seen.
“ No smoking?” He chuckles, “No joke.”
Jesus, the wave is never ending. My feet fall asleep, but it’s time to move. A bass starts humming a tune above me. I can’t move my feet, I’m going to miss my chance! It turns out to be my whole legs. I knock them on the wall. Let’s goooo. I start up anyways, I’m not missing the calm because of this.
13 steps up there’s an actual bench. No wonder I keep losing steps.
26 - another.
39 - I’m starting to see a trend.
51 - I see light. There’s a cross roads.
57 - I’m on the top, it’s raining. All the coins that I took out for street performers falls out of my pockets. Some are lost. I pick them up and they fall again. Oh well. It’ll make someone’s day. I snap pictures of the city, not bothering to check if they turn out, it’s too cold.
The next stretch is metal spiral stairs. No longer confined, completely open. Much more terrifying. I’m no longer comforted. I shake as I write. I’m not scared of heights, I’m scared of falling.
The steps turn to stone. Makes me wonder what was here before the metal ones. I’m actually glad its rainy, the skyline is amazing with the clouds covering the tops of the buildings. It’s very Londonesque.
The stairway down is even narrower than the one up. I’d hate to be fat here. Especially because they give you no warning at the beginning; you could get all the way to the top and then be unable to go back down. It’s back to the metal stairs, I back up to move out of the way and trip. My heart stops until I fall against a wall. No more walking and writing.
Walking back down feels like a victory. The benches are fenced off so there’s no stopping on the way back. The walk down feels much shorter than the one up. Thank God. I might pee my pants at this point. I’m glad I did this on my own, I think I’m going to stop asking people to join me when I do things. I need to be more independent.
I make it to the cathedral floor, then the crypt. I rush past everything feeling like I’m about to burst. As I sit on the toilet, I feel like I am truly victorious.