Epilogue

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.

***

Trying to pick a book set in London to read on the way home has made me realise the cheek of what I've been trying to do in this blog. Because no random author could capture London the way I see it.

One of the reasons people travel is to expand their horizons, to see life lived in ways very different to their own, to learn that the world is a vast place and they are only one small person living in one small patch of it. All of this is true, and all of it is good to learn.

But after four months away from home, I've been wondering how much you can really learn about the world as a tourist. In India, I downloaded the complete works of Rudyard Kiping, and it came with some interesting essays on his work. One that has stuck with me is by GK Chesterton. Unlike other readers of Kipling, he wasn't that impressed with the exotic nature of Kipling's work, pointing out that

"the globe trotter lives in a smaller world than the peasant. He is always breathing an air of locality... The man in the saloon steamer has seen all the races of men, and he is thinking of the things that divide men... The man in the cabbage field has seen nothing at all; but he is thinking of the things that unite men... Mr Kipling, with all his merits, is a globe trotter; he has not the patience to become part of anything."

Chesterton argues that travel does not make the world bigger, but smaller. He suggests that the only way to understand some of the greatest things in life is to look for them with a microscope, not a telescope; not as "tourists or inquirers" but "with the loyalty of children and the great patience of poets".

There are important practical, moral and spiritual lessons to learn as a stranger. I've noticed incredible things that people who have lived in a place their whole lives no longer see. I've realised that I'm often more vulnerable than I'd like to think, and noticed how often I have to rely on the goodwill and understanding of others who don't even know me. I've had time to think about the experience of exile and separation, and what Christianity says about it and how it can impact my faith.

But now I want to go where I'm known. I want to have "the patience to be part of something", to commit to and invest in my community in its various forms. I want to help plan my sister's wedding, discuss all the books I've been reading with my mum, and beg my dad's help with my scary upcoming business exams. I want to see the clock tower at King's Cross, the fairy lights on the South Bank, and my own front door.

So I haven't read any books set in London. Because I don't just want a snapshot of it.

Instead, I'll finish by stealing from Tolkien again. There is a great scene in The Lord of the Rings where Frodo thinks about going home, and how much he wants to see Bilbo. And I feel exactly as he does: dear friends, "I would rather see [you] than all the towers and palaces in the world".

***

Oh, and it turns out I really do love books.