Be aware of metaphors...

Every year I take my IB juniors to two of the labyrinths in town - the one at the First Christian Church which is only two blocks away from school, and the one at CC next to Shove - as an experiential learning opportunity to augment their understanding of Borges' use of them as a motif in his collection of short stories, Ficciones. I get a lot of good feedback about the trip. Inevitably, the students tell me they find something valuable, not so much in the book, but in themselves. And every year, despite having walked the labyrinths in the past, I too find something new. 


If you've never walked a labyrinth, the first thing you should know is that it's not a maze. No tricks, no gimmicks, no dead ends or frustrations. No winners. A labyrinth is merely a path. One way in, the same way out. Sounds rather ridiculous, really. Just walking? In a pattern? That's it? That's it. And yet, along the way, you pick up pieces of yourself you'd forgotten about, and find new pieces of yourself that you didn't recognize as yours before that moment. As the description of CC's labyrinth points out, "In a maze you lose your way; in a labyrinth you find your way."


At first the walking seems forced and awkward, especially when you're walking with 26 other people. Everyone is trepedatius, cautious, worried that they're being watched. But within a few short minutes, we become individuals walking the same path. Together, to be certain; but most certainly on our own, as well. The rhythm of the walk, and the effortless placing of one foot in front of another, surrender us to our own minds. Not into a deep thought. But a deep state of not having to think. A freeing of the mind, where we succomb to the tasks of walking, breathing and being. 

We pass each other at curves. We approach each other at one point, and lose each other across the expanse at other points. We come close to the center. We teeter on the edges. We surrender to the inevitability of the path, not knowing exactly where we are on it, but knowing that we'll all get to the same place eventually. 


We arrive at the center at different times, and each realize only then that we're only halfway. Disappointed for a moment, and then encouraged by the opportunity we still have to make the most of the path that's left - the path we've already walked. In this direction, though, the path seems so different - so new. Territory we've not yet explored or experienced. Each step is one that takes us closer to the end; we know this, but we don't fear it. Nor are we disappointed when we reach the end, knowing that the labyrinth is always there when we need it - ready to take us back into its folds...


Releasing, recieving, returning.

The path is one, yet each of us who walks it has a unique experience. And every time we walk it is our first time. Releasing, recieving, returning.

"...the labyrinth speaks the language of movement and is a metaphor for life. Walking, breathing, being - things we rarely have time or opportunity to think about in the rush of life - become conscious and intentional. Paying attention to how one is walking has the potential to teach much about how to live."

Living between the labyrinths...