We all have stories about the labyrinth. Maybe they’re stories of personal revelation or enlightenment. Perhaps they’re stories of healing or release. They might even be stories of building the labyrinth itself. TLS is looking for your stories as we embark on our fourth annual writing contest.

We're doing it again!
The Labyrinth Society is now hosting its fourth annual writing contest. We are accepting written submissions in three categories: essay/non-fiction, poetry and short story/fiction. Each entry must feature labyrinths and be an original, unpublished piece. The postmark deadline is June 15, 2007 and the entry fee is $10 per submission.

Winning entries will be featured on the website and possibly printed in full or excerpted in the newsletter (either our print or online editions) or one of the new TLS journals. Additional publishing rights will be negotiated if the need arises.

Submitting Your Entry:
The fee for each entry is $10 and you may enter as many manuscripts as you wish. Multiple entries may be sent in one package. Each entry must be accompanied by a completed official entry form. Please send checks only – one check may cover total amount for multiple entries in one package. 

Downloadable entry forms and guidelines are available below or by sending a request and self-addressed stamped envelope to:

The Labyrinth Society
c/o Writing Contest
P.O. Box 736
Trumansburg, NY 14886

Send three copies of each manuscript to the address above. Your name must not show anywhere on the manuscript itself.

• 2007 Writing Contest Guidelines (.doc 36K)
• 2007 Writing Contest Guidelines (.pdf 13K)
• TLS Writing Contest Official Entry Form (.doc 22K)
• TLS Writing Contest Official Entry Form (.pdf 63K)

With two tiers of judges reading anonymous entries, we have developed a judging process that is fair and impartial.

Within the labyrinth world — and especially within The Labyrinth Society — many people know each other. To ensure that the judging of the writing contest is fair and impartial, we ask that all three copies of an entry are sent without the author's name. They are received through the mail by our executive director, logged in and given a number. 

Last year seven of the ten winners were not Labyrinth Society Members, including the winner of the grand prize.

Two copies of each manuscript are sent to the first tier of judges in the appropriate category. The judges review all entries and send approximately 10 entries to the second tier judge in that category for final ranking of the entries.

The grand prize winner is taken from the #1 entry in all three categories. The top three manuscripts are sent to the final judges and they each have 20 points to "spend" however they like — giving the points to their choice for grand prize winner. Ties will be decided by the writing contest coordinator.

Here are the rules and guidelines for the 2007 writing contest of The Labyrinth Society.

The Fourth Annual
Labyrinth Society Writing Contest

More than $1,000 in Prizes!

The Contest:
The Labyrinth Society is looking for short stories/fiction, essays/non-fiction and poems that reflect the many experiences available through the labyrinth. We want to see your best writing. Stories will be judged on creativity, content, general appeal and the extent to which the labyrinth is highlighted.

In addition to a cash prize, each winning piece will be featured on The Labyrinth Society’s website and the author will receive a certificate of recognition and be introduced in the organization’s newsletter (either the print or online editions).

The Awards:
A grand prize of free registration for The Labyrinth Society’s 2007 Gathering/Conference (a $500+ value) will be awarded the one outstanding entry, be it a poem, essay or short story. First, second and third place winners in each of the three categories will receive $75, $50 and $25 respectively, plus a certificate of recognition and a year's general membership in The Labyrinth Society.

The Rules:

1. Short stories/fiction and essays/non-fiction must be 3,000 words or less. Poems must be 30 lines or less. Word or line counts must be typed on the first page of each manuscript.
    
2. All entries must be original, unpublished and not scheduled for publication at the time of entry. The Labyrinth Society reserves the right to publish the winning entries on The Labyrinth Society’s website and excerpt the winning entries in the organization’s newsletter (either the online or print editions). Further publication rights will be negotiated if such a need arises.
    
3. Submit all entries on white paper. Entries must be typed on one side and double-spaced. No entries will be returned, send only photocopies. Enclose a self-addressed, stamped postcard if you wish notification of receipt of your entry.
    
4. Entries must be postmarked by June 15, 2007.
    
5. Winners will be announced at The Labyrinth Society’s annual gathering in November 2007. This will be true for all except the grand-prize winner who will be awarded free registration for this event and notified at an earlier date. If the grand-prize winner is unable to attend the 2006 Gathering he/she will be awarded a cash alternative of $200.
    
6. Entrants need not be members of The Labyrinth Society. For more information on The Labyrinth Society please browse this website.

The grand prize winner in the first Labyrinth Society writing contest was Diane Terry-Kehner. Her winning essay, Paying Attention, is a stunningly accurate description of the "moments of enlightenment" that can be found on the labyrinth.

Paying Attention
by Diane Terry-Kehner 

When I arrived the doors were already closed. Detained by a vendor unable to make change for my purchase, I had hurried through the building to the workshop room, hoping for a delayed start. No such luck. The session was one I had been looking forward to, so even though it was already in progress I entered the room and found a seat with as little fuss as possible.

Most of the room was taken up by a large portable labyrinth, a seven circuit classical design whose lines were actually rocks hand-painted on a blue nylon background. A couple of dozen chairs, mostly occupied, were arranged along the walls. I settled into one of the few remaining seats, catching my breath and collecting myself while rummaging through my bag for my notebook.

The theme of the workshop was forgiveness and resolution. It was one of many presented at the 2001 Gathering of The Labyrinth Society in Atlanta. This was my first Gathering, having recently joined the Society in September of that year. I was a little overwhelmed by all the offerings and had tried to carefully choose the ones I wanted to attend. This one seemed to jump off the page at me, although I couldn’t exactly say why.

The presenter had been talking constantly since my entrance. I tried to listen to her and at the same time peer over the shoulder of the woman next to me in an effort to copy the notes she had already taken. This resulted in me understanding neither the speech nor the notes. Feeling a tiny bit frustrated, I decided to forget the notes and focus on what the presenter had to say.

I tuned in just in time to hear her make a claim that took me by surprise. She was saying that if we entered into this activity with sincere intent, we should be prepared for an experience that would profoundly change our lives. I thought that was rather preposterous! What kind of magical powers did she or her labyrinth have that could alter my life in an hour and a half?

Now, I was no stranger to the mysterious energy of the labyrinth. I had built one in my yard by myself and had been walking it regularly for over a year. I had traveled to Chartres, France on pilgrimage three months earlier and walked the famous cathedral labyrinth there. The journey and process had transformed me on many levels. But all that had happened over time, with much prayer, anticipation and preparation. Rushing in late to this workshop and trying to play catch-up, I was hardly confident that it held anything more profound for me than a calming labyrinth walk.

The presenter was asking us to think about someone that we needed to forgive. I wondered who that could be. I harbored no grudges at that moment. I carried no unexpressed anger or resentment. My marriage was strong and happy. My family was loving and supportive, although life with two teenagers could be challenging at times. My friends were many and I had no real enemies. I thought really hard about this and, coming up with nothing, began to wonder if I had chosen the wrong workshop.
By then the presenter was explaining how the seven paths of the labyrinth paralleled the seven chakras and seven rainbow colors. She listed key words that corresponded with each path and explained that as we walked, we were to focus on the significance of each path as it related to our intent. By going through this exercise, she said, we would work through the process of forgiveness and begin to move toward a resolution. She told us that she would place cards at each turn of the labyrinth with key words and colors to remind us of the correspondences of each circuit.

I knew the technique of using the chakras, colors and key words as a guided meditation and had done it myself several times on my own labyrinth, but for some reason I took notes anyway. Again, the notes seemed to distract me from what the presenter was saying, and I became confused as to what to focus on. Much more confusing was the fact that with every minute I was becoming increasingly frustrated and unable to concentrate, even though I knew she was talking about things that should have been familiar to me. I was starting to get frazzled.

At this point the presenter handed out small note cards and told us to write down our intention for this labyrinth walk. I stared at the blank card for several minutes, unable to formulate any concept of whom or what I needed to forgive. I began to wonder what was wrong with me that I could not follow simple directions. By now my frustration had started to take hold and cloud my thoughts and feelings. I was no longer listening to instructions. Others had already begun to walk the labyrinth and I felt the pressure of urgency to write something down and get on with it. In a final desperate effort, I scribbled something onto the card. It said I want to be closer to my family. Not at all on topic, I thought, but at least I had an intention. I tucked the card into my pocket and got in line to enter the labyrinth.
-
Soon it was my turn to begin the walk. I paused at the labyrinth’s mouth and said a little prayer for guidance, then stepped in. I was dismayed to discover that this labyrinth’s first turn was to the right! My own labyrinth at home began with a left hand turn. This seemed very weird, not quite right, like only a reflection of the way I felt things were supposed to be. It disturbed me. I stopped to try to read the first card. The writing was not large enough for me to make out while standing, so I crouched to look at it. Third path, solar plexus, yellow, power and energy. I already knew that! Why had I bothered to bend down and read it? I was annoyed with myself. Calm down and focus, I told myself. Walk and breathe. Walk and breathe. I cleared my mind and slowly walked.

The next card awaited me at the second turn. I had to crouch to read this one, too. My annoyance increased. I told myself to focus on the color and words. Second path, sacral, orange, emotions. I certainly was feeling lots of emotions, and they were not pleasant. I’m wasting my time. This isn’t getting me anywhere. Why can’t I see the cards? I can’t relate to this mirror image labyrinth configuration. Once more I attempted to clear my mind and return to my breathing.

The next turn was coming up now. I wondered if I should even bother to try to read the card. There were three people at the turn. One had stopped to look at the card and the others, obviously on their way out, were trying to get past without bumping into anyone. I can’t wait here for this mess to untangle! I know what that card says. I’m just going to skip it and walk around this jam up. So I did.

The third path on the outside, being the longest, gave me enough time to settle myself and relax a little. Almost immediately, images of my mother came to me. Finally, here was something I could focus on. My mother and I had a close but somewhat strained relationship. Although we had many misunderstandings and arguments, our love for each other always led us to forgiveness. This seemed a propos, so I meditated on it until I reached the next turn, grateful for a short reprieve from all the frustration I had experienced up to that point. As I was soon to realize, it was not to last.

The fourth path took me back into the heart of the labyrinth. It was crammed with people coming and going! My meditation was interrupted and it made me angry, too angry to even bother looking for the next card. All these people are getting in my way! They’re all succeeding at this activity and I’m the only one who isn’t. How am I supposed to reach any kind of state of forgiveness and resolution when I feel nothing but annoyance and resentment toward everyone crowded around me? Baffled by the mirror image labyrinth, I was unable to locate myself on the path. An overwhelming sense of failure and loneliness began to set in.

I completed the last three turns and paths feeling intensely aggravated by the entire experience, unable to see any of the cards or follow any of the directions, and jockeying for personal space amongst the other walkers who all seemed to me to be enjoying themselves. Even my feeble hope for a moment of peace in the center was
denied because I was too distracted by my raging emotions and the intruding physical presences of the others. This was the worst labyrinth walk I had ever had!

I was tempted to walk right off the labyrinth from the center and get out of the room entirely, but I thought that would be rude and disruptive. So I quietly but angrily made my way back out along the winding path as quickly as possible, sulking like a child the entire way. I exited the labyrinth nearly in tears. Profound life transformation? Hah!!! More like a profound insult to my self esteem! I felt like my trust had been betrayed.

Back in my seat, tears of failure and dismay overwhelmed me. I had no explanation for what had just happened and no idea what to do about it. Crying provided a release for the anger and frustration but left me without direction and bewildered. What am I supposed to do now? Why was I so angry? What does this all mean?

A gentle hand on my shoulder interrupted my confusion. A woman was offering me a tissue and a smile, asking if I needed help. Wiping my tears, I searched for the words to explain myself but came up short. I could only stammer about my anger, frustration, confusion and disappointment. The woman listened intently, and then delivered what would be my first clear message of the session. She said, "You should probably ask yourself why this was such a bad experience for you. Your strong feelings could mean that there is something here you need to pay attention to." Something I need to pay attention to. Of course! But that was exactly what I had been unable to do all along. I took a long, deep breath and focused on clearing my consciousness of all the whirling emotions as I slowly exhaled.

Searching for just one thing to focus on, I remembered the note card I had tucked into my pocket before the walk. I took it out, unfolded it, and stared at it in growing amazement. I want to be closer to my family, it said. Something I need to pay attention to....pay attention to......PAY ATTENTION! Suddenly the reality of the experience became stunningly obvious. My whole family, my husband, my son, my daughter, even my mother, have Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD. Paying attention is their greatest challenge in life, a never-ending struggle that often leads them to confusion, frustration and sometimes anger. I do not have ADHD. It had always been difficult for me to understand the disorganized and sometimes chaotic world of my dear family members. I often found myself without patience or compassion for them. But the labyrinth had granted my wish, my request to grow closer to my family. The labyrinth had given me the experience of having ADHD!!!

This revelation shot through the entire workshop experience like a laser beam, shedding light on every step of the way. The energies of the universe had been at work for me even before the session started, delaying my arrival and setting the tone of confusion and disorientation. The paths of the labyrinth that were reversed from my habitual practice, my inability to see the cards, the press of people along the path, my desperate wanting to understand and to experience thwarted at every turn, all of this brought me to the height of frustration and emotional distress that my loved ones must experience to some degree every day. It was astonishing!

My tears again began to flow, but this time they were tears of elation and gratitude. The labyrinth had brought me a mysterious gift, even as I scoffed at the thought that such a profound change could have occurred in such a short time. I thanked the woman for her kindness, rose from my chair and walked joyously back to the mouth of the labyrinth.

By now most of the people had finished their walk and the labyrinth was nearly empty. I greeted the first right turn with a happy heart, and then followed the path slowly and smoothly. With every step I grew closer to my husband, my children, and my mother. With every turn I consciously forgave them for their impulsiveness, their distractibility, their messiness, their frustration and their anger. When I reached the center I prayed for their forgiveness for my impatience and lack of compassion. On the way back out I forgave myself.

I returned to the world and then to my home giving thanks to the universe for my wonderful gift from the labyrinth. Of course my family members still have ADHD and I am still sometimes exasperated by their behavior. But now when I watch them struggle with the simplest of things, when I see them becoming frustrated or angry, when I know they are not listening, I remind myself of my own feelings of disorientation and despair while walking the labyrinth that day. Now, instead of always losing patience, I stop and smile more often. I try to reach out and be more compassionate. Now, I recall how lost and alone I felt, and how grateful I was for a gentle hand on my shoulder and a kind word of advice from someone who cared. I remember how it made all the difference.

That day, my heart was opened to the turmoil of daily existence from another point of view. The labyrinth gave me the rare and humbling experience of walking a path other than my own and I was changed because of it. All I had to do was to start paying attention.

Copyright 2004, Diane Terry-Kehner

Out of Place is a short story that reminds us that letting someone walk his or own own path without interruption or "help" can sometimes be the greatest gift we can give--both to the person and to ourselves.

Out of Place
by Alan Wright

What a perfectly strange place for a labyrinth, among the sick and the dying. I’ve always pictured them at retreat centers far deep into the forest maybe in North Carolina or better yet among the mysterious green hills of Ireland, but not in Dallas, Texas. She is awkward; stuck in the middle of a massive healthcare complex surrounded by stale high-rise medical offices and patient rooms. The Eastern Redbuds scattered about the labyrinth and the trickling waterfall almost make you feel as if you’re not in Downtown Dallas-- that you’re not here to see a brother who is receiving his final dose of chemotherapy, or that you’re not here exhausted from spending each day with your spouse of 45 years who, in all likelihood, will never leave this hospital.

It is strange to me that the architects of this particular labyrinth attempted to recreate a calming space for retreat. The tension of what the designers had in mind and the deep sorrow I feel makes me chuckle silently. Did they really think that any of us here could truly escape? Within this space, the reality always overwhelms the serenity the labyrinth offers. Still, I will walk the labyrinth today because I can make no sense of my reason for taking the first or the last step inside this space. All the ailing ones, their families, and the hospital staff curiously looking down from their glassed-in perches intensify this feeling. Their confused looks tell me they see no reason in my walking either. And therein lies the conundrum. Labyrinths do much good when they are “out-of-place.” They are wonderful additions to retreat centers and churches but they are badly needed where concrete is the main element and where anxiety hangs in the air like a morning fog.

I take a deep breath and consume the unseasonably cold air. It is overcast and windy. No one is walking the stones with me. Those who are present are sitting on benches that face the path. They don’t seem curious at all. They carry heavy loads and have come here seeking silence and an opportunity to pray to a God they are not sure really exists. “Their pain is not your pain,” I learned in my training. Easier said than done I have learned since. Today I walk just to walk—to concentrate on my steps—the sounds my feet make on the rough rocks. I follow the path to center myself not only so I can go care for these many people tomorrow. I follow the path slowly to the center and back out again so I, if only for a moment, can lay aside reason and doubt. I will know that pain and suffering is not all encompassing. There is still a world outside this hospital and outside of me that simply and magnificently . . . is. The sparrows fly briskly from limb to limb and know no difference between play and foraging for food. They are unaware of my grief and the heavier anticipated loss that inflict so many others that surround this labyrinth.

Ah, I see someone has joined me on this unending path. She staggers for a moment as if she doesn’t know at what speed or direction to begin her brief journey. “Good for her,” I think. Good for her that she is walking. Good for her that she has read no books or essays on the healing elements of the labyrinth. I’m sure she has yet to put meaning to her steps. Good for her. I wonder, “Is she as glad as I am that there are no religious symbols in this space?” I don’t walk today to add to my faith. I don’t walk today as religious practice. I walk to reconnect with my spirit that asks for nothing. She passes me on the path to my left. Both our feet drag the stone. I become conscious of my own heavy load I carry so I begin to lift my feet and really feel my ankle bone roll my foot from outside heel to inside toe and again. How often I walk flat-footed around this hospital with stale air in my lungs. I breathe in and out and walk as my feet and legs were created to walk.

We pass again and I notice her feet are no longer dragging. She still looks down; head covered from the cool wind by her lime green fleece hood, hair billowing down on both sides of her solemn face hiding all but her nose from the little sunlight the clouds have given reprieve. Her hospital gown sneaks out beneath her jacket, her plastic I.D. band hanging loosely on her bruised and dangling arms.

I reach the center where I always seem to pause and think of St. Isaac the Syrian’s counsel, “Dive down into your self, and there you will find the steps by which you might ascend.” I move on and again notice the other walker. Should I even be noticing? “Remember,” I say to myself, “you have come to walk to get away from the storms that whirl inside those patient’s rooms. Leave your pastoral identity behind. . . just for a moment.” But she stops and shifts her feet as if she might turn around and go back the way she came. She lifts her head for a moment and faces the sky with intent and begins again her walk.

It strikes me that possibly we are walking the labyrinth for different reasons. I entered to escape reason and doubt and symbols. She entered, perhaps quite by accident, to embrace her reality however laiden with saddness and worry it might be. She may be searching for symbols to give meaning to her pain. Or maybe she longs for reason to rescue her from her feeling of helplessness. Perhaps when we both leave this inward/outward path we will both arrive at a similar place. We will be able to walk back into that Cancer Center. She will face her doctor and her illness with a new hope and that rediscovered knowledge that there is much beauty in this world within and without her. I will also have a fresh look on the pain I encounter through my helping others. I’ll think of the redbuds, the sparrows, and the dead stones that scraped the leather souls of my shoes. There is an other world. One that is beyond what I encounter so deeply on a daily basis. One that is bigger but not beyond our senses.

As always, I walk the outward journey faster than the inward journey. Even when I attempt to slow my pace, I feel as if I’m being flung out of the labyrinth. Like an unstable far away moon that can no longer maitain its orbit, I’m spunout as if I’d slowly tethered myself to its center only to be released at a quicker pace. I feel my heart rate increase and a new energy swelling within my once heavy body.

I complete my outward path. I desire to turn around and look back at the other walker, even to offer her some of my ‘wisdom.’ Has she stopped and walked off deaming this excersise unneccasary or has she dropped to her knees to beg God to change her stark yet blurred reality? Instead I walk down the donor-etched brick steps and enter the revolving door of the Cancer Center. I’ll let the labyrith help her. She helped me, surely unaware, bring new meaning to my labyrith walk. I will leave her to complete her journey if she completes it at all. She has for a breif moment focused through her barely porus grief on following this path that is not there to challenge her to figure out God’s will, or struggle with its elusiveness, or even dare her to conquer her illness. The labyrinth is not even there for her to complete. She has been courageous enough to jouney inward and then outward though both paths can be difficult, full of as many thorns as opening buds. She has left the lovely cirlcle of the healthy and joined the fringes of the ill—those displaced figures looking to regain their wholeness. Possibly she’ll reconnect, not necessarily with the healthy masses, but with her innerspirit that is unscathed by disease and is outside of this temporal world and dense with beauty. She surely has been given enough trinkets, advice, and trite words. At this moment, thank God, she has no guided meditation, no mentor, no instruction booklet. Still, she walks. Good for her.

Copyright 2005, Alan Wright

Biography

Alan Wright is a chaplain at the Baylor Medical Center in Irving, Texas. 

    

Copy coming soon...

One Foot in Front of the Other reminds us that we can let go our stranglehold on our worries and let the labyrinth bring us back to center.

One Foot in Front of the Other
by Kathleen Deyer Bolduc

“Why don’t you bring your son with you? We’d love to meet him, and there are plenty of children’s activities here at the ranch. We’ll find a big buddy to hang out with him.”

Joel is welcome—welcome! It has been so long since Joel has been invited anywhere.

I’ve been asked to lead a retreat for parents and grandparents of children with disabilities at Ghost Ranch Conference Center. I fly to New Mexico with my husband Wally, and youngest son, Joel. Joel has autism. I carry my heart in my hand, hoping against hope that somehow this will be the place where Joel will successfully fit in with his peers; where he will break free of an internal anxiety so fierce it causes him to lash out with his hands.

I return from an intense morning session where we’d been exploring the stages of grief parents experience upon learning of a child’s disability. Wally, who had left the workshop early to check on Joel, greets me at the cabin door. Yet another report of hair-pulling. Even with a big buddy accompanying him to activities Joel is acting out. Will it never end? Are we going to deal with this for the rest of our lives?

Frustration. Anger. Impatience. Powerlessness. A churning stew of emotions, quickly reaching the boiling point, forces me out of the cabin . The screen door slams with a satisfying crash. I walk, half-trot, head down, avoiding eye contact with fellow retreatants, until I realize I’m lost.

“Excuse me! Do you know where the labyrinth is?” My voice, to my surprise, sounds abrasive and rude.

The woman points, says something about wind chimes. I walk between buildings, the sound of satisfied voices in the art center grating on my nerves.

Melodic wind chimes. A carefully placed pile of smooth stones. A feather blowing in the breeze. An oasis of calm in a challenging week. No wonder I’d walked right by, oblivious.

For the first time since arriving at the ranch, I am alone. The labyrinth lies before me, a large circle, its outer rim delineated by bricks buried narrow edge up; its inner paths consisting of soft-ball sized rocks, some round and smooth, others jagged and asymmetrical. The path in the circle is clearly marked. Nerve-ends jangling, I remember the brochure’s assurance that the labyrinth is not a maze; as an aide to prayer, the path to the circle’s center is easily followed.

I take a deep breath, blow it out. Breathe deeply again, will tension away; wiggle shoulders, shake hands, close eyes.

Opening my eyes, I step onto the path. To my surprise, it leads directly, too easily, to the center-most ring.

“This can’t be right!” My voice sounds foreign, irate. I turn back and walk the way I’d come, until I’m standing outside the circle, looking in, willing a clearer perspective.

The entrance path definitely leads to the center, then wanders back to a circle mid-way between the inner and outer rings.

Deciding to forge my own path, I step over rocks into the outer ring and begin to walk, counter clock-wise. I run into a dead-end, and have to turn back the way I’d come. By now my agitation is erupting in great bubbles. My breath comes in gasps. Again, I close my eyes and take a deep breath, blow it out, breathe deeply again.

“The path is clearly marked. Put one foot in front of the other and trust.” The words rise up, unbidden.

“I can do that,” I hear myself answer.

And so I begin. I step onto the path so clearly laid out. Walk slowly, deliberately. One foot in front of the other. To the center. Away from the center. One foot in front of the other. Trust. Just when I think I’ve made my way to journey’s end, I find myself back near where I’d begun.

The words come as a mantra with my breath. “Put one foot in front of the other and trust.”

Wind chime harmonies drift on the breeze. A blur of bluebird flashes through my peripheral vision. A mutter of thunder threatens as light rain begins to fall, releasing metallic scent from desert sand, dirt, and rocks. Still, I walk forward, one foot in front of the other.

Path opens, without warning, onto circle’s center. Several boulders invite rest and meditation. I sit. Skies open. Palms up, I greet the rain. Contemplating mementos left by former wayfarers, I realize I have nothing to leave but my frustration, anger, and fear of the future.

Copyright 2006, Kathleen Deyer Bolduc

Biography

Kathleen Deyer Bolduc is a nationally recognized author and speaker in the field of disability ministry. Her books include His Name is Joel: Searching for God in a Son’s Disability (Bridge Resources, Louisville, KY, 1999) and A Place Called Acceptance: Ministry with Families of Children with Disabilities (Bridge Resources, Louisville, KY, 2001). Kathy’s passions include searching for God in the everyday, sharing lessons learned in 21 years of living with her son, Joel, who has autism, spending time with family and friends, contemplative prayer, long walks in the park, writing fiction, and reading a good novel at bedtime. Learn more about Kathleen and her books on the Kathleen Deyer Bolduc Website.

Marilyn Peretti's poem, Divestiture, speaks to the power of the labyrinth to lighten our mental loads.

Divestiture
by Marilyn Peretti

I walked a labyrinth yesterday,

half circles and whole circles

round and round on soft pea gravel,

paths lined by paving bricks.

My pulse slowed I’m sure

as I divested myself of all

that hangs about in my head,

pressing on my shoulders.

 

I know I will return, after this first

meditation in the shade of tall oaks,

clear blue leaking through the leaves,

to reach a holy center,

then reverse and leave the rings,

fresh thoughts replacing old,

continuing my journey

somewhat lighter.

 

Copyright 2006, Marilyn Peretti

Biography

Marilyn Peretti of Glen Ellyn, Illinois, mostly walks the wooded labyrinth at The Cenacle in nearby Warrenville. The grove of tall oaks is reflected in this poem. Her poetry has been published in Christian Science Monitor, Seeding the Snow, California Quarterly, Black Bear Review, Rockford Review, Prairie Light Review, www.poetrysky.com (translated to Chinese), www.seastories.org, anthologies, Beyond Katrina, The Dire Elegies and others. Recently she has specialized in poems and paintings about cranes with a published book, Let Wings Take You. This book is reviewed on her website.

    

Victoria Register-Freeman's short story, "Peace not Pieces" reminds us all that our "inner attorney" just may not have all the answers.

Peace not Pieces
by Victoria Register-Freeman

Peace Not Pieces “Oh, Victoria,” drawled my forever blond friend Jennifer while viewing my backyard labyrinth for the first time. “How adorably TINY. Only you, my friend, could think of creating a finger labyrinth for FEET.”

Shaking her perfect pageboy and laughing her silvery Savannah laugh, she began her labyrinth walk by stepping off the Benedictine prayer stone with the word “Listen” engraved on its face. Watching her graceful figure twist and turn on the pine bark path, my own meditative state vaporized. The implication of her casual comment speared me. “OK, Jenn, “ I thought, “so you’ve seen the labyrinth at Chartres as well as the one at Grace Cathedral and now you’re a spiritual snob.”

Surprised at my own reaction, I took two, deep yoga breaths, but the irritation had clamped on like a pit bull. Closing my eyes I summoned my inner wise woman. “Why, Sophia, did I let Jenn’s comment cause my serenity to fall in shards around my Nikes?” Yes, the labyrinth is small, but it IS walkable… and not just by me… lots of folks from the hospital come and walk it…one Navy officer in dress whites came and walked it before leaving for his second tour of duty in Iraq. And the nuns, a covey of them come on Quiet Garden Days…a few come every Sunday. Aren’t visitors some validation of the labyrinth’s worth?”

Sophia agreed, but she was elbowed aside by my inner attorney, a very vocal member of my cranium committee. Thumbs behind his Tommy Hilfiger suspenders, he presented evidence for Jenn’s prosecution with amazing speed. “Ok, Victoria, you couldn’t afford a large labyrinth from a site on the Internet. As a recently retired teacher and accidental B&B owner, it was the largest one you could afford. The installation was free. You traded the Presbyterian women a retreat in exchange for their help in planting the six hundred sprigs of dwarf mondo grass that defined the labyrinth’s shape. Don’t forget, too, that little labyrinth is noble history. When Hurricane Frances put whitecaps in the B&B’s basement, the labyrinth alone emerged from the flood unscathed.”

“Still, Victoria,” countered Sophia. “I can understand your feelings. Jenn’s opinion is important to you. After all, she is your oldest friend and you did lure her down to Jacksonville with glowing descriptions of heirloom tomatoes, blue heron sightings and labyrinth walks at sunrise. Now, you’re afraid she may think you have performed a bait and switch. Live with your anger, it may be fear.”

As usual Sophia was on to something. As usual also, I didn’t listen to her counsel. I hired the prosecutor. (After all, who can resist righteous anger?) At his instruction, I entered the labyrinth for my own walk and perfected my case against the comment. Who did Jenn think she was? Ever the debutant, of course, ever the sweetheart of Sigma Chi. Thirty years I had played Lady-in-waiting to her majesty. Now, it was time for me to grow up and stand up for myself and the labyrinth I loved.

Mentally scripting my response to Jenn’s next tinkling utterance, I stepped up my pace and strode out of the labyrinth just a few minutes behind her. Normally, I was ---after a walk---serene. After all, the entire labyrinth experience was a sensory delight, bathed as the circuit was in mockingbird song, jasmine scent, and seagull sightings on the cobalt blue St. Johns River.

This time, however, I was impervious to the labyrinth’s peace-giving power. I was steamed. “After all, my lawyer, said. Your sweet little labyrinth deserves a champion.”

I stepped over the “Listen” stone ramrod straight, chewing on my lower lip. Jenn seemed not appear to notice my stance or my twisted bottom lip. She was standing in the grass looking intently at the garden labyrinth. Her head was tilted a little to the left and her hands were placed on her ultra-suede hips. I waited for another jab about the labyrinth’s diminutive size when she queried, “Vivi, do you happen to remember the website? Do you think I could fit a labyrinth like this on my side yard under the crepe myrtle trees?

Hearing the question my interior attorney snapped the cover on his cell phone, shoved his palm pilot in his briefcase and vanished.

Copyright 2006, Victoria Register-Freeman

    

Judyth Crystal's essay, What is a Labyrinth? reminds us that discovering the labyrinth can lead to many more discoveries in one's heart where "reality permanently alters in some way and our consciousness enhances."

What is a Labyrinth?
by Judyth Crystal

Seemingly lost, heading toward San Francisco, California, 3,000 miles from our home, my husband and I are frustrated that the volume of traffic prevents us from taking several exits into the city. When we finally are able to take an exit, we magically arrive at our destination, Grace Cathedral, where a labyrinth resides. It is as if we have been Divinely guided.

Actually, we have no idea what a labyrinth is. All we know is that we met a woman in Santa Barbara, a few days before, and she suggested that we stop and experience the labyrinth there. “What is a labyrinth?” I kept pressing her. “What is it for?” “You’ll find out,” was all she had to offer.

So, here we are, on a magical mystery mission. Approaching the church, we notice a woman walking on a circuitous pathway made from terrazzo. We watch her in silence and wait for her to finish. This must be the labyrinth. “What is it for?” I ask, feeling childlike this time. She excitedly responds, “It is to help you find your path in life. Then, she continues on her way. And the labyrinth is left for us.

Well, I think, maybe this labyrinth will help me to figure out what my true path in life is. I have been struggling with mid-life issues. My curiosity and willingness are high.

Entering together, my husband and I walk the labyrinth. The sun is shining brightly and the air is warm. The area around the labyrinth is expansive and across the street is a city park. Though neither of us have an epiphany, the walk is pleasant, active and interactive. Silently, we walk over to the entrance of Grace Cathedral.

After admiring the beautiful relief sculptures on the huge wooden doors, we enter the church. Interested in the architecture of Grace Cathedral, my husband goes off to explore the church. The labyrinth inside intrigues me. Its placement is within the darkness of the entrance to the sanctuary, in a womblike setting. Brightly colored banners hang above it and provide an occasional visual focus as I meander the switchbacks of the labyrinth. In contrast to the outer walk, this one is solemn, meditative and inner reflective.

My husband returns as “tour guide” for the church and shows me around where he has been exploring, including the wonderful and interesting bookstore, full of labyrinth memorabilia. I buy a card that is forest green with a gold labyrinth embossed on it and pick up some literature that tells about the labyrinths.

Then, off we go to explore San Francisco! For months we had been looking forward to the points of interest we had planned to visit. Yet, strangely, our plans change as we drive in heavy traffic and are unable to find parking spaces near any of the places where we want to stop. We feel agitated and dislike breathing in the bus fumes. It becomes evident that being in the hassle of the city traffic is not where we really want to be on our vacation, so we decide to continue to our next destination earlier than we had intended. We wonder if the labyrinth walk has effected this shift in our energy.

Where we are staying on Point Reyes is quiet and set in nature with gardens and birds. It has a large glassed-in common room overlooking the moors, which appears mystical in the fog. We are grateful to stay here for a few days. This location provides us with just the peace we need.

Our travels continue through the redwood forests and on to Weed. Our destination is the War and Peace Memorial. Although we are disappointed with it, something catches my eye toward the end of the site. As we walk there, I happily discover a labyrinth. What a pleasant surprise!

The scenery around the labyrinth is spectacular and consists of views of awesome Mount Shasta, volcanic rock and prairie. It still looks like the “wild West” and how we imagine it must have appeared to the pioneers who came through the area hundreds of years ago. We almost expect to see wagon trains off in the distance. It is 97 degrees Fahrenheit and the breeze is HOT, yet I feel compelled to walk this labyrinth 3 times, each time has a different quality and brings me to a deeper inner state. I, too, feel like I am a pioneer in my own uncharted inner territory.

As I walk the labyrinth, the glacial side of Mount Shasta makes a majestic backdrop. My husband appreciates it from the shaded picnic table. Seeing the glacier makes us feel cooler in the heat and in awe at the glory of Nature’s magnificence. We feel blessed to be staying near the sacred mountain. During our short stay, I “walk” the labyrinth card with a pen and we hike and meditate on Mount Shasta. Our wonderful vacation is quickly coming to an end.

On the flight home, I cannot wait to get onto the Internet to research “labyrinths” and see if there are any near our home. I want to know everything I can about labyrinths and what they are for as well as to further explore walking them.

I discover a local workshop, which I attend, and purchase right- and left-handed wooden labyrinths. My husband and I each finger-walk the two of them simultaneously and something seems to happen to our brains! Perhaps, it is the result of balancing the right and left hemispheres of our brains. Anyway, the effect is noticeable to us.

My curiosity is really peaked. What is this labyrinth? I keep asking that question and receiving different answers. A whole new world is opening up to me and I am intrigued by it.

Back at work, I realize that, in some ways, walking on the labyrinth reminds me of a colleague’s experience in a kayak in white water when he went spinning out of control as he was caught in an eddy. He learns much about himself, his capability for survival and his strengths, in that quick flash in time. When he finally jump-starts out of the eddy and back into the river, it becomes a metaphor for the major changes he makes in his life. My experience involves inner waters.

As did Tielhard de Chardin, I believe that we are “spiritual beings immersed in a human experience”. To me, lifestyles that promote wellness incorporate body, mind and SPIRIT. Being from a straight medical model of physicality, my boss tells me that spirituality is taboo in my corporate job as Wellness Coordinator. I feel my values and my very being are being invalidated. I feel like I am whirling inside a “cosmic eddy” with my life spinning out of control. What do I do? My physical health begins to suffer as my spirit gasps for breath and my soul begins to die. This dictate is a foreign concept threatening the core of my being. My SOUL is DYING!

Someone sends me a cartoon, called “The Climber”. I play it over and over again on my computer. It is about a mountain climber who starts out later than he had planned. His goal is to reach the summit of the mountain, but darkness is soon making visibility impossible. Still, he is determined to make it to the summit and pushes onward.

Suddenly, his foot slips and he falls into a crevice. Being an experienced climber, he was belayed, so now he hangs, dangling in the frigid air, by a rope. He calls out: “God, help me” and hears a voice respond: “Cut the rope”. Again, he calls out and again he receives the same message, which he cannot accept and thus ignores. The next morning, other climbers find him frozen to death, dangling one foot off the ground.

I, too, feel like I am dangling at the end of my own rope, over a dark abyss, frozen in time. On a labyrinth walk and again in a meditation, I get the message that it is finally time for me to “cut my rope”. I discuss this with my husband, who eventually supports my decision and I take a huge leap of faith.

A week after I leave my job, I go to a lecture at a women’s group at my former place of employment. A psychologist talks about a study, which had been done with rats. Rats are thrown into a pool of water and forced to swim until they nearly drowned. Then they are rescued. The researchers let their vital signs go back to normal before repeating the trauma many more times. Then they are left alone. The traumatic toll on them is so great that the rats die suddenly, anyway. It is a shocking wake-up call to hear this.

I make a greater effort to balance “do” with “be” and to heal from the toll of too many hours of work, especially in an environment that I feel is an antithesis of who I am. It took this stint of “cosmic boot camp” to jump-start me back into my authentic self. Now, on my true path, the labyrinth points the way, as does the yellow brick road in “The Wizard of Oz”.

What is a labyrinth? I theorize that the labyrinth opens a clear pathway to the Divine Source. Maybe the purpose of the labyrinth is to act as a “spiritual map” for us to follow so that we do not get lost as we travel to our deep inner place or to our Divine Source. I think of it as a Spiritual Geological Information System. The labyrinth defines the starting and ending points of our journey and leads us on a path which consists of twists, turns, straight-a-ways and switchbacks, while the center acts like a rotary, directing us back home.

Six months after my first labyrinth walk, my research brings me to Jean Houston and I attend her Mystery School. Many of her processes revolve around the ancient labyrinth, or Dromenon, as she calls it.

At Mystery School, about 130 people are “in the dance” on the canvas labyrinth. We walk together with our spiritual guides. The group energy is incredible and powerful! Being with so many like-minded people is comforting. Relating with people from all over the world enhances my sense of oneness with the larger global community. I feel at home and make new friends. Mystery School is a stark contrast to my harsh work environment so I am grateful to feel valued for my being. I appreciate the opportunity to grow and evolve spiritually as I continue my dual (inner and outer) journey.

More recently, at the 2005 Labyrinth Society Gathering, I walk many labyrinths. Yet the one I find the most powerful is the simplest and most natural one. It is tucked away in a quiet space in a pine grove. In fact a tall straight pine tree stands at its center.

Dried pine needles define its path. They are interspersed with green needles and pinecones. And there is a small area by the center, which has a stone heart on a piece of red fabric, surrounded by green needles and pinecones on the 4 sides, as if to define the 4 directions. The sweet scent of pine needles permeates the air.

As I walk the path, a sense of joy overtakes me. I smile the entire way into the center, feeling playful and happy. In the center, I cock my head as far back as I can to appreciate the old growth tree. Then I place my back against it and close my eyes to meditate. A wave of emotion arises in me. Tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. My heart is being deeply touched and opened to release melancholy childhood memories.

Pine groves are always endearing places for me to be. As a child, I run to them for comfort after being physically abused by my mother. I run, tears blurring my vision, through the woods behind our house to the sanctuary and womblike environment of the pine grove. Nature, my true mother, nurtures and heals my wounded body, mind and spirit. The sanctuary of this pine labyrinth releases the penetration of the past pain.

Another memory this pine labyrinth generates is one of my loving and understanding aunt, now deceased. Her love and advocacy is how I survived my youth. I remember her taking me to the Cathedral in the Pines when I was young. That memory is etched in my heart and releases when I smell pine needles and am under the protective canopy of pine trees.

After walking the pine-needle labyrinth, I re-enter the main conference building and am glad to synchronously cross paths with the man who created it and have the opportunity to thank him for his wondrous creation.

At the Labyrinth Society Gathering, I am struck by how people incorporate labyrinths into their life’s work. Each of the workshop presenters use the labyrinth in their own unique way as a tool, whether it is for healing on an individual or an environmental level, for self-realization, conflict management, problem-solving or spirituality.

My gratitude abounds for the rediscovery of the labyrinth, which leads me to rediscovering myself. Sometimes the lessons are painful, sometimes joyful, and sometimes profound. Yet they are always what I need at the time and what I can handle as I recover my authentic self, restore my health and well-being, re-energize my body, reactivate my creativity, regain my passion and revitalize my soul.

Occasionally, a hawk circles above or the clouds are dramatic while I walk a local labyrinth, usually 3 times, in deep walking meditation. Many of my questions are answered and I am finding inner peace and guidance.

Little did I know that the labyrinth would become such a powerful tool for me and a path that leads me to life-altering spiritual experiences, deepening my communion with God and my own Higher Inner Wisdom. What is a labyrinth? It has become my path and it feels so Divinely guided.

As I co-facilitate a women’s group walk on a labyrinth, the sky is aglow in crimson. The scent of fragrant flowers wafts on the breezes. We hear the lapping of the waves on the shore of the beach below. Our crunching sounds on the crushed stone does not disturb a little rabbit, which joins us, hopping across the pathway. We stop and smile. It reminds me that the journey of the labyrinth is like going down the rabbit-hole for Alice in Wonderland. It is the rabbit-hole! Our reality permanently alters in some way and our consciousness enhances.

Copyright 2006, Judyth Crystal

Biography

Judyth Crystal is a renaissance soul, having had careers as a graphic artist, weaver, massage therapist, registered nurse, communications specialist and corporate wellness coordinator. She has also volunteered as a parish nurse and is a peace activist. Judyth resides in Connecticut with her husband and their 2 dogs. Her authentic life’s journey has evolved, enhanced and deepened via walking meditations on the sacred labyrinth. Presently, she is in the process of writing and illustrating a book about labyrinths. (Judyth is also the third place poetry winner of this contest.)

    

This poem, Forty-eight Before Fifty, is a walking lesson in learning to trust and live in the moment.

Forty-eight Before Fifty
by Samadhi Whitehouse 

Eyes looking ahead at the journey, I quickly bow my head

Look “souly” at my footsteps—remember, the objective of the journey is one step at a time

Trust. Trust in each step—in this one moment

Thoughts begin to swirl within, as I keep my head bowed

“Did I miss a turn?” “Have I gone too far?”

How well trained is the mind, to so swiftly careen through negativity and fear

Enjoy the journey. Take each step knowing you will arrive at your heart centre

A curve soon appears, my thoughts ever mindful

Trust. Trust in each step—in this one moment

Quickly fast-forwarding through my past—before the next curve

I see how many times I have stumbled off the path

A moment’s panic interrupts my journey, as I get caught up in the future

Promises. Resolutions—on the threshold of a half-century of life

Enjoy the journey. Take each step knowing you will arrive at your heart centre

A rush of calmness encircles me

There are no paths outside of this one—in this moment—leading me directly to my destiny

Each step brings me closer—now is the time to live my passion

Promises. Resolutions. I quickly bow my head

Suddenly, I arrive—in the inner circle

Trust. Trust in each step—in this one moment

Standing quietly, I feel cocooned within her circle

Forty-eight hours before beginning my fiftieth year of life

So young in spirit, with a burning desire to never stifle the child within Enjoy the journey. Take each step knowing you will arrive at your heart centre

I trusted my footsteps. I knew they would always take me home—I quickly bow my head

Look “souly” at my footsteps—remember, the objective of the journey is one step at a time

Trust. Trust in each step—in this one moment

I have walked the labyrinth. I have reached her centre

I have arrived at my heart’s destination

Copyright 2006, Samadhi Whitehouse

Biography

Edna now goes by her nickname, Samadhi—which means “Being one with the Divine and being in the moment.” Each time she hears Samadhi, it reminds her that she is part of love—a continuous affirmation.

Samadhi began her writing career by winning two contests; the first with the magazine Focus On Women. Her essay, “Two Hearts In One,” spoke of her healing journey through her first heart surgery and the correlation of illness and forgiveness. Her second essay, “A Gut Reaction,” for the on-line magazine, Outback, showed the risks as well as the fun of exotic travel abroad.

At the age of forty-eight, Samadhi decided it was time to dive into her passion and give full-time writing a chance. The outcome is Circles in the Sand. Her writing goals include three future non-fiction books, Separated at Birth, Three-Heart-Harmony, and Where Have All the Children Gone? Poetry and short stories are new to Samadhi, allowing her to encapsulate emotions within a smaller frame.

After years of travel, including visiting, living, and/or working in Europe, Lebanon, Syria, Israel, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, India, Egypt, Oman, the United Arab Emirates, and Thailand, Samadhi now lives on Vancouver Island—surrounded by the ocean and its life force.

Samadhi learned about labyrinths through a friend whom she helped find peace in the journey toward her death. This enhanced her own spiritual understanding of labyrinths, making them an analogy of life’s journeys.

To learn more about Samadhi and her writing, visit the Samadhi Whitehouse Website.

    

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Of Life and the Labyrinth reveals how walking a labyrinth can bring us peace, serving as a reminder that even challenging journies are walked one step at a time.

Of Life and the Labyrinth
by Kay Hafner

I went into the labyrinth looking for answers. My mom had been diagnosed with small cell lung cancer, a very aggressive kind of tumor. But at least it was limited stage; at least it hadn’t spread. If so, they might not have treated it at all. Rather, the “good” news was that the oncologist wanted to fight it with the most advanced, most aggressive chemotherapy available.

After the arrangements, but before any sort of acceptance, I felt pressure weighing on my heart. Where would I get the strength to handle this situation? The answer came in the form of a book.

In my work as a circulation clerk at Crandall Public Library in Glens Falls, NY, I rarely need to search the stacks to look for books to read or music to listen to or DVDs to watch. The best part of my job is that things I have just checked in are in my hands, ready to put on my card if they look interesting. A few weeks after Mom’s diagnosis I found myself flipping through a book called Exploring the Labyrinth by Melissa Gayle West. I checked it out and started reading the same day.

I was already familiar with labyrinths and their meditative uses. In spring 2005, I went to the dedication of a labyrinth that had been erected at the local Unitarian Universalist Church because I wanted to know more about these ancient formations. I learned then about the two kinds of labyrinths in use today—the classic seven-circuit one they designed for the church grounds as well as the more complex 11-circuit kind found originally in the floor of the Cathedral at Chartres in France—and some basic information about how they have been used for meditation and prayer.

We walked through the labyrinth en masse that day at the Unitarian Church labyrinth dedication. It wasn’t the introduction I’d hoped for. There were a few dozen more people than I would have liked. Also, it was the end of service when we went out. I sensed some people considered it an obligatory group event before heading off to the Sunday things they really wanted to do. Other people were, I’m sure, as interested in knowing more about how the labyrinth could affect their lives as I was. It was just hard to tell who was there and who was present.

I left that day glad that I’d participated and learned about labyrinths, but vowing to go back sometime and try it on my own, with less commotion and more peaceful isolation. I wanted to experience being alone with my thoughts while slowly walking the labyrinth, not worrying who was in front or behind me, or if I were doing it right.

What I eventually learned, from books and web articles as well as my own experience, is that there’s no right or wrong way to walk the labyrinth. Some people consider it to be a joyful experience, full of smiles and spontaneity. These are the type that report increased spiritual energy when they’re in a group. For my part, I’m an only child and someone who values solitude. Walking the labyrinth is a peaceful experience leading me back to Me. I walk slowly, reverently, through the labyrinth. I place each foot deliberately and let my breath slow and deepen, allowing the walk to be a physical meditation, a prayer in motion. I empty my heart and free my mind as I walk along the sweeping arcs that form the outside layers of the labyrinth. I do this with relief and certainty, like a knight removing his battle armor, piece by piece, when he knows he is in a safe and protected keep. Layer after layer of defense is removed until I am exposed and vulnerable.

Entering the labyrinth this way, by the time I reach the center I am, truly, centered—focused on that time, that place, open to simple wisdoms and gentle guidance the experience might bring. Walking the labyrinth is like looking into a still pond that’s returned to calm after a storm. Depths that have been moved and changed and hidden are there to be revealed. If you are ready for them.

Conventional wisdom and common usage considers the word “labyrinth” to be synonymous with “maze.” It’s a misconception I hope changes as the labyrinth movement started in the 1990s by Lauren Artress of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco grows in strength. It isn’t that I don’t like mazes. A hay or corn maze in fall or a hedge maze at a Renaissance fair are fun ways to pass the time, by yourself or with a friend. However, a maze is a puzzle, designed to trick and challenge you. With a labyrinth, there are no tricks. There is only one path in, and it is the same path you leave by, but there are no directions to worry about, or dead ends to avoid.

The path may take the walker out the way she came in, but the hope—when I enter the labyrinth, at least—is that I won’t be quite the same as when I entered. Certainly, there will be times when the waters of your mind don’t yield anything clearer than mud. It may take a while. Eventually, you will leave the labyrinth bringing with you answers or insights or even revelations. The walk out allows you time, before you go back out into the world, to ponder how to apply what has been revealed.

When I went into the labyrinth for the first time by myself, I was self-conscious. No one was in the church but it’s in a suburban location, a former dance school, with a highway to the west and a subdivision to the east. It was early spring and trees hadn’t yet budded. The backyard of a nearby home could be seen clearly through the small expanse of woods separating them. It was mid-afternoon. I had just left my parents’ apartment, which is just up the dead-end street from the church.

After reassuring myself that no one was likely to be at home in the nearest houses, I got out of my car and tentatively approached the clearing that held the labyrinth. I scanned the area, trying to remember how it looked with dozens of people of all ages and various styles of dress. Some shuffled, some meandered but all moved together. Looking back, perhaps we were a more cohesive whole than I thought that day. Many people, myself included, had placed rocks and stones from home to help fill in the lines. The organizers had requested this so we could make the sacred space in some small way our own.

That first day by myself I inhaled and exhaled in deep, cleansing breaths as I walked, eyes scanning the wood-chipped path as it unfolded a foot or so in front of me.

The cleansing breaths helped relax me, lifted the weight from my shoulders, eased the pressure constricting my heart—if only for a short time. For several walks I struggled with questions. Why had this cancer struck our family? Why had it happened to my mom just four years after recovering from cardiac arrest and finally quitting her cigarette habit? What could I possibly do about it?

Walking the labyrinth several times a week for a few weeks eventually helped me realize I couldn’t cure my mother. That would be left to a higher power and the medical staff. I could only help her deal with her illness. Day by day and, like the labyrinth, step by step.

I continue to walk the labyrinth when time permits. However, life has been hectic since my mom’s diagnosis three and a half months ago. Treatment is progressing but nothing is as yet known about a full prognosis. The aggressive chemotherapy that started the fight was followed by eight weeks of radiation and more concurrent chemotherapy. It is likely that more heavy-hitting chemotherapy is to come, not only to shrink the tumor but to stop it from spreading. Soon we’ll have another scan to tell how things are going. But I know that cancer is a long road with many hills to climb and few scenic overlooks.

I enter the labyrinth with questions. I leave the labyrinth with reassurance.

Copyright 2006, Kay Hefner

Biography

Kay Hafner is a writer from northern New York State. She reports that her mother’s chemotherapy and radiation treatments were successful in fighting the lung tumor and, so far, in stopping any spread of the disease. “Walking the labyrinth is what allowed me to fill, tap into and refill internal reservoirs of strength during the crisis with my mother. It may not work for everyone, or work in the same way, but I’m so glad it was an option and an opportunity which I was open to taking.”

    

Judyth Crystal's collection of haikus delicately captures the simplicity and profoundity of the labyrinth.

The Labyrinth: Metaphor for Life's Journey
by Judyth Crystal

Spirals and circles,
Like a Nautilus design;
Wondrous path beckons.

Many cultures share it,
Ancient symbolic pathway;
Curious imprint.

Intuitive tool,
Meditation, pilgrimage;
What is its purpose?

Circuitous path:
Walk inward, center, walk out;
Spiritual journey.

Shedding of the past,
Past no longer feeds the soul;
Center presently.

Pause focused walking,
Take time to commune with Source;
Seek transformation.

Ponder life’s questions,
Asking intentionally,
Receive the profound.

Then journey outward,
Make manifest the guidance;
Help improve the world.

Balance “do” with “be”,
Creating peace and healing;
Labyrinth lesson.

Turning, twisting path,
Metaphor for life’s journey;
Divine labyrinth.

Copyright 2006, Judyth Crystal

Biography

Judyth Crystal is a renaissance soul, having had careers as a graphic artist, weaver, massage therapist, registered nurse, communications specialist and corporate wellness coordinator. She has also volunteered as a parish nurse and is a peace activist. Judyth resides in Connecticut with her husband and their 2 dogs. Her authentic life’s journey has evolved, enhanced and deepened via walking meditations on the sacred labyrinth. Presently, she is in the process of writing and illustrating a book about labyrinths. (Judyth is also the second place essay winner of this contest.)

    

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