The Labyrinth
by Debbie Heller, Winter '97
Preparing to walk the labyrinth, I thought I would reflect on the year I was leaving
behind. I imagined that as I circled the winding path, I would reflect on my formative
experiences, ponder what I had learned over the previous twelve months, and as I circled
my way back out, I would open to an intention for the new year ahead.So I began slowly walking, putting one foot in front of the other. I
thought, In January I went to Pathways. Then I continued walking, concentrating on staying
on the path, trying not to trip over myself as I turned a corner or let someone pass. And
then ten minutes would go by before I realized I had lost my train of reflective thought.
So I'd try again. In January I went to Pathways. Then I'd look around, noticing the
familiar faces, curious about the strange ones. Another fifteen minutes would go by. I'd
remind myself of what I wanted to do. Oh, yeah. Okay...so, let's see, in January I went to
Pathways... I never made it through January. At this point, I don't even remember what I
did in 1997. But I wonder, does it really matter? Perhaps the darkness of winter serves to
prevent us from looking too far outside of ourselves. It seemed to me that as I walked the
labyrinth, life's greatest teachings were right there in front of me, with each forward
step of my feet. Be mindful of where you're going, be careful around the sharp turns, be
gracious to your fellow passersby, and make sure there's someone taking care of the little
kids.
Once again I was shown that the greatest wisdom comes from
merely opening my eyes and my heart. And the greatest example for living comes
from the simplicity of not doing much of anything at all. Of course it can be challenging
to hold on to the thread that keeps me connected to myself and the sacred. I get
distracted, bored, impatient. As I was winding my way back out of the labyrinth, I
couldn't help but wonder when I would get out of this thing. And was I supposed to stop in
front of each of the altars? This would never end, I believed. And once again I had to ask
myself to surrender, to give myself over to this maze that, like it or not, I had
willingly put myself in. And this thought occurred to me, you know, I could just keep
going. I stared at my feet and was mesmerized by their persistent motion. They didn't seem
too bored. Suddenly it no longer mattered where I was on the labyrinth, where I was going
in my life, what I learned last year. What mattered was that I keep moving on the path
that was laid before me, trusting it to lead me wherever I need to go. And my job? To
simply enjoy the adventure.
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