The Thin Places

So Weird, a paranormal drama on the Disney Channel, was my favorite show in high school. I got hooked freshman year when Viola, the student from Germany living with us, and I watched an episode; we were instant fans.

In one episode, Fiona—the main character—enters a structure designed using the Fibonacci sequence and intended to serve as bridge between our world and ‘the spirit world.’ In it, Fi has a brief encounter with her deceased father through the thin veil in the structure.

“Thin places” is not unique to a cheesy Disney Channel original series. The idea of “thin places” is alive in many traditions.

But, as someone whose brain is math-science oriented, I like structure and reason. Ice floats because the molecular structure makes it less dense than water. Our bodies break down food into usable amino acids, vitamins, and minerals. The sun “rises” because our planet is rotating and revolving around it.

Where do I experience the thin places?

Last week, I attended a concert at Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan and connected deeply to the gospel choir’s portion of the concert. There’s a thin place there. I don’t always know what I believe, but I do know that something came alive in the singers and the audience at that concert.

I know that something profound happened when 50 Equality Riders stepped on to Bethany Luterhan’s campus after being threatened with arrest and, in the wake of 8 arrests, students poured out of buildings to engage in conversation for hours.

I know that something stirred in me while performing in Andy Cofino’s play Out In The Open.

I know, even, that when my roommate and I sit on our couch eating Hagen-Daas and bearing our real selves to each other… that something is happening there.

Tapping In

Recognizing (and remembering) the thin places is a practice for me to cultivate. As much as I want to read explanations in an academic journals, I learn over and over again that there is power in trusting the mystery. In squeezing and then releasing. In letting it be.

My practice, if I can muster it, is to embrace the thin places, to honor them, and to tap into the potential they store.

I don’t know why or how, but so it is.