Union Station is a historic crossroads in downtown Los Angeles, with travelers arriving and departing under the broad arches and heavy beamed ceilings. They journey as local commuters, or from great distances, sharing a gracious architectural space between the trains and the modern streets of Los Angeles just beyond the front doors. I’m drawn here by the distinctive architecture and light, but mostly because of the mix of people who rest in the leather seats waiting for a friend or a connection, as well as the intent pilgrim that dash over the marble floors to catch a train.
An avid traveller myself, I believe people are a bit exposed in that particular transition between home and destination. Serendipity can guide our experience of a place, the details of it accentuated by finding ourselves somewhere new, in a maze of tunnels or elbow to elbow alongside strangers. Caught up in the multitudes while exiting a train, part of the great mass of people, we disperse to the outside world, pursuing our singular lives.
In a place like Union Station I have time for quiet meditation or sharing the event with my fellow travellers before we move on. Being a traveller is about how we get to a place, but even more, how we experience the spaces we move though during that journey.