The practice of moving through a labyrinth is very much a process of opening ourselves to feeling whatever is present for us, learning from them, and then releasing those things. You begin the process with an open mind—sometimes with a question, sometimes with an ache in your heart, sometimes with uncertainty, but always with an open mind. As you make your way through the winding pathway towards the center, you must pay attention. To the lines. To the twists and turns. To lose that attention is to get lost in the labyrinth—it is the only way you can get lost, actually, since it’s just one pathway.
And keeping that attention with an open mind allows in the guests. Some of them—like the guests of joy and companionship and community—are ones we want. Some of them—grief, sadness, despair—are ones we didn’t invite but have to learn from anyway. And then you get to the center. In the center of the labyrinth is a chance to pause. A chance to sit with the guests that have come into your soul during your walk. A chance to listen to what they have to tell you. And a chance to make peace with the fact that they’re visiting you. After whatever time you need to do this, you make your way out, following the same, solitary, serpentine path.
Move through a labyrinth today. If you have the ability and the access, find one to walk. Otherwise, use a finger labyrinth. A finger labyrinth can be found here.