Adding labyrinth visits to the year-long birthday celebration feels full of serendipity and synchronicity now. The labyrinth as a spiritual practice has become a big part of my life in the past nearly two years. I write about each labyrinth walk because I want to chronicle my journey. I am so glad I have; each visit has gifted me with something fresh and different. I can measure my mental state and well-being by how different I feel from one labyrinth visit to another.
I have two distinct memories of this particular walk in July: it was hot. The sun was blazing when I reached the center. Most importantly, muscle memory informed me that the way I'd been walking my lunch time path felt just like walking the labyrinth.
What do I mean? My steps on the labyrinth are always deliberate and slower than my regular quick pace. I think about how I place each foot on the ground. On this day as I wound my way into the center, my body told me that I was doing the same thing each work day. I found this revelation astounding—and comforting. Just as the yoga practitioner endeavors to take the practice with them off the mat, I was thrilled to discover that I was taking the meditative elements of the labyrinth off the circuit and into my daily walks.
No wonder I feel so refreshed, calm, and transformed. The meditation is doing its work on me. If this is how I feel now, how much different will I feel in another six months? Another year? This kind of uncertainty is exciting.