In a grief seminar, we were asked to find a labyrinth and walk it with some contemplations on our own grief experiences, what helped us during our grief, how we coped, and what was unhelpful. We were asked to choose a specific loss or two, rather than survey several losses. We were supposed to immerse ourselves in this visit to the labyrinth. I found myself surprisingly resistant. I realized by surveying several losses, it allowed me to remain more distant, more academic, and the wisdom in choosing one or two, was that we could become more intimate. We often do believe "I've worked through it, been there, processed it." My resistance let me know that, of course we're never done. HAHA. But of course, that doesn't mean it's a problem. It's just a disruption. And so, I noticed, and I leaned in, even if I was grumbly.
Dog and I went to the car, on our hunt for the local labyrinth.
The labyrinth I walked was surprisingly near my home and just created last Fall. I didn’t even know it was here, so that was pretty neat.
As I chose my loss, I was prepared to feel waves of things. I braced myself to go into a space of loss feelings, based on the way we expect to feel, not really knowing. I entered a back of mind imaginarium with all that this conjured in my mind and body, also knowing that there are real feelings there of sadness, confusion, love, wishes. I was curious about this auto-anticipation - why brace? I'm normally such a curious person. Why not allow? I thought about how we are so programmed to have categories of experience. This experience has these emotions - do we want them or not? Almost like shopping or the secret handshake to a club.
So, here we were, dog and me, at this labyrinth, near my home, newly placed, like it was put there just for me and this exercise. The sun was setting. The air was perfect. No one was there.
I stepped out of the car and faced IT. The labyrinth. How symbolic. All of it.
I breathed in the air in reverence for the space and thanked it for whatever it may bring me. That seems like what we should do, right? Frankly, every time I've tried doing the labyrinth thing, I am painfully reminded how I want to "cheat" - "quit" I'm pretty introverted, so I can be too aware of others or impatient, or not wanting to be in their way, haha, whatever we tell ourselves. I also laughing in awareness once again, thinking that I am a busy little firefly and was resisting being told what to do and when to feel something. I was relieved to see it was a small and manageable size. Some are so, so big and full of turns. Oy. I am a diligent student, so I really wanted to do the assignment honestly. I know, the idea of the labyrinth is to be in the space of noticing, release, pausing, reflection. I DO actually get it. But that doesn't make it less of a challenge. Also, somehow, having a structure going in gave me a different determination to "do this thing." Funny, every New Year's Day morning for several years, I met with a small group of treasured friends at a public location to walk a labyrinth, and it wasn't an inner fuss. Death and Loss really is a sticky wicket for many of us, even those of us very comfortable with it. And, being told what to do.
The space was in an alcove of trees, like a cradle. The sun was setting and shining into it, so there was this odd liminality of sun setting, moon rising into the mouth of this labyrinth cradle, beckoning me to set aside all that mind, body chatter and step through a portal. It was promising something to me that would rise above all of my flickering.
The path was made of sand, the labyrinth lined with stones. All shapes, sizes, colors. The stones that lined the back wall were larger, like the local Mother Mountains the seems to be everywhere you look in this region watching over us. There are arrangements of stones balancing intentionally on the path stones. I looked around before I went in in case I too, wanted to place one, but I couldn’t find ANY loose stones, weird. I took a breath, left my shoes, and remembering my assignment, grabbed my loss and entered this deceptively simple and inviting space, stoneless.
The smaller stones that made the pathway, reminding me of an ancient belief that stones are the memory keepers, all different, all part of a larger stone that gets broken down and down until it’s the very sand we’re walking on, which carries the footsteps of everyone who was here, even their dogs, sometime, maybe before a rain? Time. Community. Colluding with some other purpose to bring us to this place to walk together, in contemplation and comfort.
We are not alone, the labyrinth tells me.
Suddenly I realize the loss I came to walk with is not only walking with me. It is resting in these stones. The stones are telling the story of a universal loss, a universal comfort, a timeless love and impermanence in the timelessness in their size and shapes and the breaking down of them, in the footprints. You can see where people stopped, walked fast, turned. You can see the intentionality of placing their own stones to add to the pathway.
They were here. They are still here, with me and Dog.
I come to the center. There is a small circle pit filled with smaller stones. It is a well. It is an invitation to quench something, refresh myself. I can get my stone here. I am no longer stoneless. I have made it to the place where I have earned my stone. I find I also no longer feel stoneless in my loss, and I ask myself, do I even need to place one? As I look out, I realize, it is not for me. It is for the next one who comes to realize that whatever brought them here to contemplate, whatever they came here to walk with, we are walking with them.
Choices are not just made once, they are made again and again, because I can choose to leave my stone here in the well, I can choose to add my stone to the community. I can even take a stone with me or return and add to the well. I have choices. I had to earn my stone, that’s why there were none around. I had to go through the labyrinth and choose when and how I was ready to return. Some were balanced carefully, some just laying aside, some joining others. What choice would I make? I decided to sit a while at the well with my loss and the others until I knew.
Dog and I picked a small, round, orange stone. We would find a perfect place for it. We found one that looked like it needed it. It looked better than before somehow actually. Funny, it had a dollar stuck between the rocks that we didn’t see before and of course we left it there.
As I was leaving the last bends of the labyrinth, I was suddenly aware of a richness filling me, that sense of community that I had not expected, that had filled me by surprise as I came to this place, I now found myself reluctant to leave behind, but also I had drunk from the well. It was within me.
I paused in the curves, taking in the light with the feelings, trying to understand all that was going through me, and trying to embody the sense of community I was feeling as not just philosophical metaphors, but as real human experiences that I could keep. As I felt like I was claiming this experience more viscerally, I felt my feet able to leave my own prints in this place in gratitude, knowing I’d be back, recognizing my loss and sadness was held by a silent, eternal community for a moment, and if I’m careful, I can take that moment with me. I am not stoneless.
Helpful: a quiet sense of community, steadiness, simplicity, quiet, letting me have a rhythm, trusting me (and trusting myself) to know what I needed - even if it took a bit of discovery, that I’m still competent - even if I'm overcome, and to just go about things in my own waves, my dog, a little tiny bit of structure. Also, time alone and people who just came and sat with me, like movie, or just read their book while I wandered. It was like I had to get to know myself again and feel my way through it. Discover gently. This is what I found in the well of stones.
Not helpful: chaos, remarks, impatience, expectations of “normalcy”, assumptions that I can or can’t do or handle certain things - even in my own mind, too much or not enough silence, awkward expectations for me to be or do or reach out, feelings of abandonment by community because people don't seem to know how to be, too many houseplants and flowers as condolence gifts (something else to take care of and reminders of death instead of life) I normally love flowers and plants-this was a surprise. This is where the bracing comes from.
The sun was setting in such an orange, illuminating aura through the pines, it was a moment filled with intimacy. It was warm and golden on my skin, like it was baking in my timelessness, soothing me to just allow. It's ok to find ways to lean in. These reminders to lean in to resistance, remind ourselves that our expectations that we brace for are often based on what we can only imagine, or are trained to expect.
We are more ok than we believe, resilient, supported. We can lean into areas we find resistance, gently and with awareness and curiosity. We cannot truly predict what is there for us on the other side of any experience. Why do we forget that? What did I really think was going to happen if I leaned in? Of course the losses were terrible, deep pains. Who wants to feel that again! And also, I am not the same. The pain is not the same. It is its own expression, reaching through time to have a new conversation with me in my emotions, my body, spirit and mind as I am now. I am still here, more than functional, enjoying my life. Why not lean in? Why not feel the spectrum of my life? I do not want to be frozen in time, and my love, and the losses that are part of loving are a part of the depth of my inner wisdom, my character. I am more for living fully.
The labyrinth's gift is an experience I will keep with me. It is a reminder that we all share our mortality and love through all time, all people, even with other beings, whales, gorillas, flamingos, penguins... loss, grief, deep sadness, love, compassion is universal. I remember being at an arboretum where there were nesting flamingos. One pair had an egg that was crushed, and they were clearly grieving as a pair, and as a small community. There is a universal language that is unmistakeable. If we lean into the isolation, that is what was the common thread of what was NOT helpful. Gestures that were impositions were as isolating as if they were absent. If we lean into the common thread of what was HELPFUL, it is finding what connects us, which is that of true agape love, compassion, gentleness, what supports, cradles, as we find our way.
I would love your conversation. Let's talk about it in comments.
Ama la vita d'altro... Love the life of another... it is the most basic and highest gift we share of them all.
Here is a great resource to help you locate a labyrinth near you: https://labyrinthlocator.com/
In Kindness,
Dr. Birdi Sinclair
Spiritual Guide, Peace Coach
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