Oh this labyrinth!

Oh this labyrinth! Oh this labyrinth!

The words must be written twice!

I love it. I hate it. I mourn that its going to melt even though we are months away from the threat of higher temperatures.

I worked to make the patterns (you already read that post). I had SO much help from my husband and kids (same post) and now the beautiful pattern sits there. Because I have more to do in the world than simply walk the labyrinth and write about the insights I have gained from it, I often am required to just walk past it. I am leaving to go to work. I walk past it when I come home feeling world-weary. I rush past it to run an errand and home again with my arms full.

It, the labyrinth, simply stays put.... and looks at me. Observing me as I am meant to observe it. I want to yell: Stop looking at me!!

It simply stays. Lit up beautifully (now) with lights all over- except one part of one outer loop. It's perfect the way it is. I love it. A perfect spiritual path just staying there. Waiting. Looking. Mocking, almost. 


What a metaphor! Or as I like to call them now: effin-metaphors!

My spiritual path lies in wait for my own body and mind to settle in to it's direction. No judgement (Yeah, okay I'll admit it: the judgement is mostly all mine and not the labyrinth's per se.) And as I am busy in the to-and-fro of life, spirit stays steadfast and waiting until it is called upon.

I LOVE my labyrinth. I love, adore, honor and cherish it. I have developed a strange attachment to something that is made out of small snow mountains and Christmas lights. I check on it before bed. I relish, with a warmth in my chest, when I look out at it from the bedroom window. I love it because it stays. Like a dog waiting with a wagging tail. It's there for me when I am coming and going. (The loyalty of spirit should not be compared to a snow path or a dog, but there it is.)

I HATE my labyrinth. It is mocking me. Calling me. Telling me how inadequate my attention to spirit and inward reflection really is. It shows me every day that I'm out of balance and how ridiculous I am for not simply choosing... simply choosing... to step on to the spiritual track and allow myself to breathe out my anxiety and breathe in my calm knowing my self and self worth. What's it take? 10-15 minutes? I can't find those few minutes to reorient to spirit and my authentic/ aligned self?

I HATE the way it simple sits there like it knows it all.Sometimes I want to stick my tongue out at the dummy-know-it-all-labyrinth. 



10:30 pm.

I walk my labyrinth. I'm putting on my boots near the back door and I'm mumbling under my breath: "Well, I guess I better walk the stupid thing." and I'm out the door with my ear buds in and my phone in my coat pocket. The music helps set a calming tone and drown out the naysayer doubts in my head.


I walk in: "I'll find spiritual comfort in 15 minutes and head back inside. Here we go. Let's do this thing."

I keep walking. "Ahh... breathing. Letting go. Easing in. Leaning in. I really *do* love my labyrinth. Forgive me for all my negative thoughts."

I finally reach the centre.

The neighborhood dogs stop barking. The music, with the labyrinth, have been talking on their own. They tell me a forgotten story about love and unconditional value and connections with all things on earth and in the stars. I remember. Did you think I could have forgotten?! (I had forgotten, but I won't admit it.)

I inhale and face South. Inhale- West. Again-inhale- north. Inhale.... East. I stand again toward the North and remind my self that this forgotten story is not that old nor that forgotten. This is the place of my own self--- truly "MY divinity in MY own backyard". How on earth or in heaven can you forget your own divinity in your own backyard? And yet I do. Multiple times. Over and over again. 

(Gawd damn effin' labyrinth.)


I walk out. I let go some more. I feel my shoulders come down from their place of standing guard around my ears. I know I am loved. I know (even more so) I am loveable.

I keep walking out. " Ahh...breathing. Letting go. Easing within. Allowing." I know this place: I love you. I love me. I could write a book about the heavens and the stars and our place on earth and the meaning of love and truth and light. Why would I ever doubt it? Why don't I stay home and walk this labyrinth all the time- like three times a day? And write the book because I know it all. I understand the all the answers to all the big questions.

I reach the exit. I turn and face the labyrinth. I stand in awe at my own transformation.

Again.

I bow my head and whisper: thank-you. thank-you.

I don't know exactly to whom I say thank-you: my spirit guides and friends? Yes. My own self? It's my creation. My family? Because without them I wouldn't know how wonderful it could truly be?

Yes. That's who. All of them and me.


I miss my labyrinth.

I mourn you already. I'll miss you when the sun is warmer and the snow walls are melting. I'll have rings of Christmas lights in the brown grass before I give you up.

I'll find you in other places, I know. Spirit is not only in this snow-path and only right here. But right now I feel like a child who knows the vacation days are numbered. I need to eke out of you all the wonder that I can.

Winters are long, but this year won't be quite long enough for me.

Let me take that as a metaphor for this life and eke out of it-- my 80 years or more, I hope-- all the wonder that I can. Let me remember, that somewhere inside of me, I know love and spirit so well that I could write a book. Let me remember that all of this is as close as my own 'backyard'. It's all right there and waiting for me to choose to reorient to that place.

This is the gift of my labyrinth.

Oh this labyrinth!

:-) With a knowing love,
Heather.