I walked a labyrinth today, quite
a different thing from learning about their history and purpose which I
won’t elaborate on here, for the learning really comes from entering into the
experience.
With the directive of
approaching the labyrinth contemplating what we would like to let go of as we
walked the inward path, then what we would like to take with us as we retraced
our steps on the outward path, one by one our group walked through the gate on
our own individual journey.
My brain felt quite vacant
and my heart not really engaged with the process as I headed in. I’m used to
going for walks in the bush, feeling wrapped inside a living breathing
organism, simply being at one with nature, unearthing hidden delights behind
rocks and trees as my eyes change focus from the bigness of it all, to the
smallest intricate details.
But despite the labyrinth being
a tall hedge construction, this was a different experience entirely. The path
was narrow, with just enough room to walk without brushing both sides. It was one
continuous hedge, with dirt, grass and strips of bark and twigs underfoot, enclosing,
nothing to distract me or cause me to go investigating. At some points though
the path widened and the hedge was somewhat sparse, so my footsteps quickened
and I could see where I’d come from as well as see through to where I thought I
was heading.
But the path continued, twisting
and turning and looping back on itself, and I wondered how in such a small area
it could take so long to get to the middle. I saw a glimpse of the innermost
spot through a gap in the hedge, only a couple of metres away, but still the
path wove its way this way and that, causing me to bide my time with my
thoughts instead of wondering what I would do when I arrived.
What was I hanging on to
that needed to be let go? Was I open to the inward journey? Was I even able to
let go of my own scrambled thoughts and listen as I walked, instead of trying
to order them all myself? Wanting to be authentic in the moment and not see it
simply as an interesting activity, I found it challenging, not an easy process,
and one I’m still pondering.
I returned to the labyrinth
later in the day to take a few photos and discovered an intriguing phenomenon. As
the sun’s warmth faded I ducked through some of the gaps in the hedge to save
time, so I could view the path from different angles. However, as I then
proceeded along the path I became totally disorientated, not knowing whether I
was heading inward or outward, and no amount of repeating the process brought
me to where I thought I should be. It was obvious there were no shortcuts, you
simply had to start at the beginning, follow the designated path to the
labyrinth’s heart, then retrace your steps through to the end.
The end brings you back to
the starting point, but somehow you’re not quite the same as when you began. On
an intellectual level, I could see how different parts of this mini pilgrimage
could be applied to life’s journey as a whole. How looking back to what is past
can bring understanding, how seeing possible paths forward can provide impetus,
but also how some of those paths don’t necessarily end up where we anticipate. How
feeling encompassed by the darkness of circumstances can on the one hand be overwhelming,
but at the same time provide opportunity to stop and reach out for help instead
of relying on our own depleted resources.
On an emotional and
spiritual level though, it’s obvious to me I still have more work to do before
the pathway walked today can weave its way to my own heart, before the winding
and unwinding can find a place to settle.
Move to the centre
slowly, one step at a time
the inward journey
Take time to reflect
humbly, gently, reverently
then move out again
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