Intro to Labyrinths

I have talked about labyrinths before and my experience with them. But if walking a labyrinth is not practical or there isn't one near you, here is a virtual way to get acquainted with the meditative practice and possible uses. I would still recommend trying to find a labyrinth to walk in its physical form. Click here to find a labyrinth near you.

Experience the Spiral

Back in Sarah's garden on Saturday. (Sarah is the owner of Radiance, the store in Lancaster where I give journaling workshops.) This time, I was the workshop leader along with Christine Cappabianca. We were doing a workshop to experience Sarah's garden spiral in conjunction with Kundalini yoga and journaling. The concept was simple: we were going to spiral our day around the centerpiece of the labyrinth. Meditation, yoga, journaling, walk the labyrinth, silent lunch, journaling, yoga, meditation. The rains changed our plan a little. We knew they were coming so we walked the outdoor labyrinth between the sprinkles right after our first meditation. Sarah's labyrinth is a 7-circuit labyrinth which means it has 7 paths. These correspond well to the chakra system which is a system of energy centers on the spine. Chris led an exploration on these centers in a series of spinal exercises. I did the same with journaling, having each participant explore the messages of the energy surrounding these points. The rain turned the workshop into a very contemplative, inwardly focused, mindful event. Most of the participants were new to walking a labyrinth. We used an indoor labyrinth later in the day which gave a better sense of the geometry. (The herbal labyrinth is lovely and fairly zings with energy, but sometimes, the sense of line is lost among the ferns.) The silent lunch was interesting. It was harder than I thought it would be to be silent, but it held us in purpose. I found I didn't want to make eye contact because I didn't want to intrude on another person's thoughts. The day went so fast. We didn't get in all the things we wanted to do, but we were successful in what we did accomplish. The shared energy was a magnificent force. What is great for me, is the level of excitement I have for such events. I would have attended this workshop if I were not teaching it, so it was a double treat for me, as practitioner and teacher. I hope to have more such workshops in the future. I see the possibilities.

**A great site for people to start exploring labyrinths.

Fear No Rain

I have been meaning to take another stab at retreat. I had the flu on my birthday, so my trip to the art/yoga studio at Herrbrook was a different experience than the one I envisioned. So I booked another stay. I brought my computer along. I was open to inspiration but my list of possibilities included: work on my novel, journal, write some letters, perhaps do some impromptu art, walk the labyrinth, plan my upcoming workshop, read Moosewood cookbooks, read a magazine, do some sun salutations, drink herbal tea. The day started off with sprinkles, but that didn't even come into my consciousness. I like the rain, and it pushes me to the interior world that was my destination anyway. So, armed with a cup of coffee, an oatmeal cookie, leftover potato leek soup, my computer, journal, and stacks of books, I entered the cottage. There was a chill, so I turned on the space heater. Took off my crocs and put on some snugly slipper socks. Lit a candle. Arranged myself under a blanket on a wicker rocker with a great view of the rainy garden intending to spend my first 30 minutes in journal mode.

This cottage is loaded with art supplies and books, but the one thing that was prominently displayed was a book entitled Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland. I know the owner of Herrbrook has peered at my blog, but did she peer into my soul? Who knows who put the book right near my candle, but I picked it up and read over 60 pages sitting in that chair. I also journaled 21 pages--enough that my hand couldn't hold a pen to sign my kids' permission slips later that evening. It was as if the book was written for me for this particular time and place. I went to a deep place. Some of it I absorbed immediately. Some I must sort through. I borrowed the book and will continue doing a chapter a day until I finish. And hopefully, I can reveal some of what I learned in these musings.

There was a mid-day break in the clouds, and I used the time to walk barefoot through the wet grass 11-circuit labyrinth on the property. I gained even more insight from this exercise. Waiting for me in the center of the labyrinth was a cat. I am not a cat person, but this cat seemed to know I needed a guide through the process. In the goddess tradition, Bast is an Egyptian cat goddess of play. Maybe that is more symbolism than is necessary here, but I did feel a kinship with this animal. It started to rain in sprinkles, but though I entered the labyrinth walking with my hands dug deep into my pockets, my arms loosened on the way out. I noticed that they were outstretched to feel and accept the rain. It was a reaction that was intuitive. I didn't think about the fact that I was doing it until I was almost done walking.

A little wet, I returned to the comfort of the studio. Sipped my soup. Ascended into the yoga loft where I could simultaneously read, journal, and hear the rain hitting the roof. This blog entry is about the physicality of the day. I will get into the insights later. But I slept well last night. That always a testament to a day well spent.

Spiral theory and practice

"My new Hypothesis: If we're built from Spirals while living in a giant Spiral, then is it possible that everything we put our hands to is infused with the Spiral?" -- Max Cohen in the motion picture Pi.

This weekend we watched the movie Pi: Faith in Chaos. It was about one mathematician's search for order out of chaos, such as finding code in the numbers of the NYSE. I thoroughly enjoyed it. In the movie the main character referenced spirals, specifically the golden spiral which comes out of relationship with the golden rectangle, which, when a square section is removed, the remainder is another golden rectangle. The resultant and infinite removal of squares leads to the golden spiral.

I have long been fascinated with spirals. I believe that the first time I had a conscious encounter with them was a documentary I watched while a student at PA Governor's School of the Arts which showed patterns and shapes in nature and mathematics which were relevant to the worlds of art and music. I was 17 at the time. It was probably a few more years and encounters before I started to incorporate them into my artwork. I was an art history minor, so I began to see spirals in art from prehistoric to Renaissance and beyond. As a woman who has ventured into the meaning of the divine feminine mythology, I have found particular meaning in the triskele or triple spiral which can be interpreted as a representation of the triple aspect of the goddess: maiden, mother, crone; a representation of the nine month gestation of a human pregnancy; or a symbol of the goddess Brigid who is briefly referenced in my book Summers at Blue Lake. Brigid has been a touchstone for me because she is the goddess of writers, healers, and craftspeople--specifically metalsmiths (as I was in college, and as is my protagonist in Summers).

Another point along my spiraling path has been my interest in labyrinths. (A labyrinth is unicursal path which winds around. Unlike mazes which have many path options, labyrinths only have one way in and one way out.) Labyrinths have been used in countless cultures: storytelling in Greek Mythology (Theseus and Ariadne) and in cathedrals as part of worship (Chartres) are two examples. Some cathedral labyrinths form the shape of a rose which is the symbol for Mary, mother of Jesus. Labyrinths tell the story of a pilgrimage. They tell the story of birth. Letting go, entering center, filling up... as a cycle.

My artwork, particularly my flower paintings, explores spirals and the meaning they have had for me. I suspect my writing does, too, in the way my stories tend to wind back onto themselves. On my nightstand, I have a small spiral shell that my daughter gave me. I am reminded every morning, that I am on, above all, my journey to find center.