Although the second CD in The Grief Interlude Series was inspired by a labyrinth walk, I am relatively new to experiencing them.  While the insights gained weren’t centered specifically on grief, I wanted to share one I did recently…

The path toward the labyrinth was lined with cedar trees, standing as sentinels for my passage.  They felt so familiar and reassuring to me—their aroma provided a bridge to memories as a little girl who spent so much time in “my” cedar tree.  It acted as my sanctuary, and offered a place to explore my capabilities and views of the world around me.

Honeysuckle bushes in bloom arched over the labyrinth’s entrance, fragrant and welcoming.  The labyrinth lay before me, a series of spirals nestled within a circle.  Although I couldn’t recognize a pattern from standing at the entrance, I realized that my brain unconsciously noted a series of four quadrants as I moved throughout.  The series of paths within were designed in places to switch back upon themselves—some portions longer than others, and some abruptly turning…much like life’s unexpected turns.

Given the labyrinth’s design, I moved rhythmically through the spirals but couldn’t really tell how far I had traveled. Nor could I assess how far it was until I reached the center…my steps were being guided, but my sense was that I simply put one foot in front of the other moving along the path before me.  An act that many of us seldom surrender to…one in which we give over control.  I found myself practicing the art of “surrender” after the first few circuits for I didn’t need to know how far I had come or how far to go; it was about where I was. 

As I moved through the circuits toward the center, I couldn’t always tell exactly where I was within the labyrinth with respect to distance, but I could always sense the center.  It reinforced the lesson in knowing that when I become quiet and return to MY center, I don’t really need to know anything more than that.  For within that sacred center, lies all our questions…and all our answers.

I moved along the paths at varying paces—sometimes faster and some slower to reflect upon my thoughts or the perspective provided at that point.  In sections, the path turned back on itself almost immediately and I found myself viewing the path I had just walked…even though I was looking ahead, I was looking back…a revealing experience for me, almost as though they were happening simultaneously…maybe everything is?  And while my orientation within the labyrinth changed as I moved through it, my perspective also shifted as I wound through the quadrants, but I was essentially covering the same ground as I had walked before.  Maybe that’s like repeating life’s lessons until we finally “get it”!

The paths were strewn with debris from thunder storms earlier in the week, and there were some weeds growing among the lovely spring flowers blooming in various sections. Somehow this imperfection comforted me…life is never perfectly manicured, is it?  I spotted an oval of brilliant blue on the path ahead and discovered it to be a robin’s eggshell—only Mother Nature could create that unique hue!  Its broken shell made me think about the fragility of life, but it also represented new life springing forth filled with hope…rebirth.  Sometimes I have to shed my “shells” and put down my masks to allow the authentic me to emerge.

After spending quiet moments at the labyrinth’s center, I retraced the steps just taken.  At one point as I wound toward the entrance, I thought that I could simply step over the stone dividers and shorten my journey—my overdeveloped impatient nature showing—but then came the thought that even when we want to take shortcuts rather than finish the journey, we must do the work.  I’ve learned that “the only way out is through”.  I also noted as I walked parallel to the entrance, I was “so close” to it but yet “so far away”!  Not only had I already traveled far within the labyrinth, I also had distance ahead until the journey was complete…a reminder that as long as we breathe, life continues to gift us opportunities to grow and evolve.

Patience was a recurring theme as I noted the sun disappearing behind clouds momentarily, darkening my path.  It occurred to me that sometimes the “light unto our feet” may not be as bright as we would like during certain periods, but just as the sun, the guidance is always there behind the clouds waiting to re-emerge as a beacon for us. We haven’t been abandoned, but must simply invite and await its return.

As the labyrinth, life is never a straight path—it always has twists and turns.  Sometimes I spend too much time looking back over where I’ve been, or too much invested in looking ahead to where I’m going.  But, only in finding peace in where I am do I open a space allowing grace to enter, showing me appreciation for this moment and gratitude for being right where I am.  Another lesson from the labyrinth…

Sharon Clark

5/3/10

www.griefinterlude.com