Traverse

I have had a love of labyrinths for many years. I remember the first one I found, it felt like a mysterious thing, especially to see at a church. If I am honest, I have had trouble deeply connecting with the church since I was a child. When I stepped onto the smooth marbled surface, something in me went quiet - something loud was now softer, and I began to follow my feet walking into the maze. After that, I was hooked. Something happened inside my mind as I went around and around the path, and then at the center, there was a moment to pause, only to realize the way out was back over the path that I had traced coming in. And by the time I returned to the entrance, I realized this way of walking was good medicine for me.

Recently, I have been doing virtual labyrinth walks, using a pen to trace over a printed picture of a labyrinth of my choice, sometimes our 4-year-old joins in -- “So many twists and turns,” he said. And then the image of my oldest, when she was his age, flashed in my mind— “Who was I then?” - the feelings flooded back, oh, how I thought it was my job to entertain her and do everything for her. Who would she be had I allowed her to show me who she was? The theme for this walk was about compassion. The facilitator suggested a co passion, a way to be passionate about what was created, or cooperated. Images were shown and poems read...inside of me, I was back in the memory, I was so afraid I would break her somehow…Mothering… and then the call came in (the facilitator had an unexpected phone call) and inside me, I heard:

“Answer it” and I immediately muted the screen, and whispered inside “come closer”-- somehow the me who I was when She was small came back, I took her hand and we walked together, forgiving what was, and forgetting who was right or wrong, on into the center where we embraced, I let her in, I let her all the way in.

I stayed there, embracing this we. Breathing deeply together. Smelling the shampoo I used to use, feeling the exhaustion as I held her, and remembering the tenderness of an embrace, and how good it felt. All this happening inside of me, inside of our home.

In the background I heard him breathing deeply, he must be in the center now too, I thought. And I felt a skip like dancing rhythm begin to carry me back out. This rhythm, it is unique to me. The future memories of who I will be when She is my age. There is a dance in the rhythm and I will get lost. And I will get found. The rhythm, my rhythm is the music, and the cooperation of passion goes around and around. We can share.

And to think in retrospect of the walk, it would have been easy for me to want to listen to the phone call, was it something of an emergency, did she, the facilitator need support? In that moment I chose to be compassionate for the one that I was, instead of being curious and rushing in to help another. For me, that seems like a welcomed shift. That offering of compassion to myself and what I have been through as a priority, with a wish that in time I will be able to offer a truer sense of presence for others as well.

I will continue to walk labyrinths, both on paper and on the earth. I do not know if I will ever actually be able to explain why they fascinate me. There is just enough distraction that I am able to find the quiet inside of me. The place where knowing lives. Creating structure and space for me to build more of a relationship with this knowing.