spiraling

turns out, it's not as bad as you think

It’s been said that nature works in spirals.

Where I grew up, in the foothills west of Denver, we could walk out the front door and hike the forest behind our backyard for hours. My mom would often take the dogs (and me, her third pup) to walk with her. As a short diversion from the steep uphill trudge, we would stray from the path to “walk the labyrinth.”

Someone, at some point, had placed small stones to make a circular spiral maze on the dirt about 30 feet in diameter. Like stone piles and trees carved up with initials, you’ll occasionally run into DIY labyrinths on hikes. No matter the season, our little labyrinth maintained its shape - whether this was by the curation of a dedicated individual or some conscientious hiker hive-mind, I have no idea.

---

Many have argued that spirals are so common in biology because it is “the most efficient way for something to grow.” Maintaining a consistent shape at every turn allows an organism to grow quickly and without much energy. Go on your own walk outside and I bet you’ll see a few spirals on the path. A shell, the eye of a sunflower, a school of fish, the flush of a toilet, even the fingerprint on your pointer finger all spiral out. Or in. Depending on the kind of day you’re having.

---

The growth I feel these days certainly does not feel efficient. It looks more like the photo of this jaggedy staircase my mom sent me a few days ago when I was ensconced to my bed because of a lovely back spasm.

My current position (today, May 3rd, 1:27 PM) on that staircase feels like it’s somewhere above the “G” in “GOES.” Not quite at the bottom but certainly feeling the climb. Then I’m reminded that I’ve been here before.

---

The first time I walked our labyrinth I was probably seven years old. It frustrated me. Many times, I was tempted to step over the arbitrary line of rocks to reach the center faster. The sooner we finished walking the labyrinth, the sooner the hike itself would be over. (Racing to the finish is a vice it seems I’ve always been trying to quit.)

As I got older, I’d memorized the dead ends and sudden twists and could walk it quickly, getting to the center within a minute. And there my mom would be, still somewhere on the outer circumference, taking her time pacing over the dry red Colorado dirt, eventually meeting me at the center. At which point I would probably chastise her for taking her sweet time and ask if we still had pickles in the fridge.

---

When I was in grad school, I lived a few blocks away from Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. Grace Cathedral has two beautiful labyrinths, one inside the cathedral, and one in its front courtyard, open to the public day or night. Next time you’re in the Bay, check it out.

In the history of contemplative practice, labyrinths weren’t about speed but rather spending time with God. The twists and turns were not built to flummox the contemplative walker, but to guide her journey.

Grace Cathedral’s website suggests 3 approaches to walking a labyrinth:

1. Purgation: Releasing of the details of your life. Shedding the thoughts and distractions, you use the time to open your heart and mind.

2. Illumination: When you reach center, stay there as long as you like in meditation or prayer. Receive what is there for you to receive.

3. Union: As you leave the center, retracing the same path you walked coming in, return to God, your Higher Power, the healing forces at work in the world. “Every time you walk the labyrinth you become more empowered to find and do the work for which you feel your soul is reaching.”

   

Damn. Pretty far from the pickles I was thinking about at age ten.

---

I didn’t realize these hikes with the dogs were a precious time of day my mother was inviting me to join in on. The older I get, the more I see that walking the paths behind our home was the one part of the day my mom could let go of all her other familial obligations. She was inviting snotty preteen me into the most precious part of her day. A daily return to center, even as she and I were growing older.

There are seasons where I feel I’ve been “walking the labyrinth” as my ten-year-old self and acing it, finishing it faster than anyone else on the hike, and smugly standing in the middle. Right now I feel seven again. Seeing the dead end I thought would lead me to center, and then having to return and retrace my steps to try the other path.

The only difference is that now I love walking. No matter the mood that has settled over me, within half an hour I feel markedly better than when I first began. And, enough turns around the ~labyrinth of life~ have taught me that where I’m going doesn’t matter much, so long as I’m walking, I’ll feel better and develop a new perspective.

---

I’d like to say I no longer believe in the upward climb toward some beautiful mountain lookout (that job, that relationship, that income). The truth is that the upward climb still calls to me. No matter how many times I’ve reached a peak and realized that by reaching the peak it’s all over, how sad, what the heck do I do now?! My wisest self knows every peak is just the base of a new mountain. My wisest self would rather be walking the labyrinth.

---

The beauty of spirals (when compared to other growth models) is that we can look across the spiral at any other point in time and see where we once were. In the spiral of life, we can even “step over” into another time, like stepping over the stones in the labyrinth. Returning to an old stomping ground of mine always gives me this feeling. “Last time I was here, I was so worried about this or that, and look, younger Evangeline, we made it through!”

We are never only the age that’s reflected on the driver’s license; we are every age we’ve ever been.

No matter how far you’ve come from the start, you can always look back to center and see your most essential self standing there: still, imperfect, shaking in her boots, bravely about to embark.

Looking for a local labyrinth to walk? Check this out.

That’s all for now,

ee