Walking a Labyrinth: Thursday's Reflection

A few days ago I walked over to the University of St Catherine's, which is only blocks away from us. My mission was to walk an outdoor labyrinth.

This time my experience of walking a labyrinth was different from any other time I've walked one in the past. 

While the question I pose when I stand on the threshold is never the same from one time of walking to the next, and it is also true that the insights I gain are unique to that specific walk, at least I am always able to follow the path. I know I will not get lost on my way to the center of the labyrinth, and I know, unlike when I enter a maze, that I will be able to find my way out of the labyrinth.

That was not the case this time.

I found the entrance and before taking my first steps, I closed my eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. I waited for my mind to clear and for whispers of what I most needed to ask to float through my heart. 

"What do I most need to know about this time?" 

The walk from the entrance to the center is considered a time of releasing. What do I need to let go of? What do I need to shed? What has outlived its usefulness? What is weighing you down? Walking to the center is a time to lighten the load in whatever form it currently takes in one's life. It is a time to empty, to clear the space. 

As I took the first few steps, I thought about the ways I hoped to use this time of social distancing and self-isolation. All the writing I could do. All the books waiting for me to read. All the other projects, and all the people I could connect with on the phone or by writing a letter, a real letter. (See an earlier post here.)

The message I carried with me as I stood on the threshold was "Be productive. Use this time well."

But what have I experienced in recent days? Well, a different need has replaced my optimistic plans. For the last few weeks my father has declined, becoming weaker and weaker, and needing more care. Needing my presence and the presence of my family. 

What I needed to understand was that now was the time to release, step by step, all my self-proclaimed expectations and thoughts about what I could accomplish. 

But that's not all.

The path on this labyrinth had not been tended and the path's stone borders had sunk into the ground and were overgrown with dried grass. The turns were not clear. "Is this the turn to another circuit or do I continue going forward?"  I wondered. I soon felt confused, even lost. I tried reversing my steps, hoping to see where the path was leading me.

Eventually, I moved directly into the center, hoping that would help me see the path. 


It didn't. 

The way forward was a mystery. Unknown. Unfamiliar. Unclear. 

Ah. 

And that apparently is what I most need to know right now. 

I stood in the center, even though I had not followed successfully the labyrinth's path, round and round each of the circuits, and I took another deep cleansing breath. The invitation of the sacred center is to receive. Because the walk to the center is a time to release, room is created to receive. There is space for something new or surprising. Clarity. Vision. A new idea or perspective or a solution to a problem. That doesn't always happen, of course, but just being there sets the stage for a new awareness and reminds me to stay awake.

I have no idea what the next hour or day or week or longer will bring. For my father. For all of us, you and me, all of us, as we face these uncertain days. All I can do is remember to breathe and to stay awake to what I need to release and to the gifts waiting to be received. 


An Invitation
Where are you on the labyrinth? Releasing? Receiving? Returning? I would love to know.