Déjà Vu Across the Pond

Gloria in excelsis Deo echoed like a morning bird song in the grand hall of Westminster Abbey. Holding the congregation in a blanket of harmonious joy, the choral voices make the space feel otherworldly — like being heralded by the angels themselves. Vivid stained glass saints, apostles, and angels gazing down from on high with glistening wisdom into the domineering expanse of the more than 750-year-old Gothic space felt somehow out of place, but I did not. 

Growing up Roman Catholic, this Anglican Catholic space felt incredibly familiar. This is a nostalgic kind of place holding almost identical hymns, prayers, and ceremonies as the church I grew up in, despite being a different branch. In particular, the prayers were exactly the way I remember them, word for word, without the more recent alterations. Even though I no longer identify as a practicing Catholic, the almost mystic quality of Westminster enraptured me. From the moment I walked into those hallowed halls until the exit procession, that feeling of place was ever-present. Even from across the pond, thousands of miles from the church I grew up in, dwarfed in scale by this massive abbey, part of me felt completely at ease. 

In all the differences we have amongst ourselves, these places across the world can rekindle something in us. A déjà vu of bygone memory, a past self reminding us that all our past selves are still in there. Somewhere. 

A mile-and-a-half down the way, an entirely different kind of altar resides. One of similar magnitude with a scope often considered more sanctimonious than sanctified. The Globe – a reconstruction of the 1599 theater of the same name – is its own kind of sacred space for the theater lovers who pilgrimage to it. With its rows of wooden bench seating and an open standing area for those willing to stand in The Yard for hours at a time, this is where theater folk come to pay homage to William Shakespeare. Like the visitors to Westminster, people travel from all over the world to see it firsthand. To witness theater they know (or that they don’t) and to become part of the place’s storied history. 

During our visit, The Globe was just beginning its run of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – a play I frankly don’t like very much. Shakespeare’s tragedies and histories have always been more my cup of tea. Plus, we reenacted Midsummer in high school, so most of my memories around that production are deeply rooted in frustration. Of course, the first show I ever saw at The Globe had to be that one, right? 

Throngs of eager audience members waited for the show to begin, and the space quickly filled with rapturous glee. Midsummer is, if nothing else, a hilarious romp. Nothing could quite elevate the experience of seeing it in The Globe’s open-air theater, with laughter leaping to the rafters from first-timers and bardolaters alike. 

Suddenly, all of those angsty, acid-washed memories melted away. Here, in this place dedicated to all things The Bard, I felt renewed. This Midsummer déjà vu was no longer an unwelcome visitor, but an old friend. Just as the Westminster service, hours before, spoke to a part of myself, The Globe had done the same. It was a penance, paid to a bygone version of myself and released beside the River Thames. Rather than a litany of “Hail Marys,” I found myself reciting Puck’s final monologue — “all is mended.”

We never know what we will find wandering cobblestone streets or shop-lined alleyways, so too are we ever surprised by what we find in ourselves as we travel. Experiences — however foreign, familiar, or somewhere in between — can bring us back to ourselves. Every version of ourselves that has ever been is still inside us. Twelve-year-old Amanda was as present seeing Totoro come to life on stage in London as she was watching a coveted DVD copy in the basement of her best friend’s house more than 20 years ago. There is no hiding from those inner selves. Give them a space to breathe, and you may be living in your own kind of déjà vu.

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