…with your Divine Self. Heed the call and set out into the world ready to be fully present in each moment. Strive to maintain and grow the connection with Spirit, Goddess, Source, Higher Power, All That Is, Allah, God, Buddha, The Force, whatever you choose to call it. Drop the illusion of separation of yourself from, Read More
During a recent walk with my Charlotte Labyrinth Walks Meetup group, I noticed that one of the walkers did something unusual: he entered the labyrinth and walked straight into the center, where he remained for quite a while. He then walked out of the center, following the path outward. Shortly thereafter, he turned around and followed the path back into the center.
I usually start off the walks by telling people a bit about labyrinths and always remember to say that there’s no right or wrong way to walk a labyrinth. And yet I found myself looking at what “the guy who ignored the path” was doing, wondering why he chose to do it a different way, and what that was about.
When we gathered in a circle after the walk, I told him I’d noticed. He said he felt a very strong pull to start at the center, and then go out into the world, so to speak, and then back to the center. “Why wouldn’t I want to go to the center first,” he asked.
It’s never occurred to me to do that. I want to try it the next time I’m in a labyrinth. And, I’m going to take some time to think about where else in my life I’m blindly following some path because that’s the way I’ve always done it, or have been taught to do it, or because others are walking a certain way.
After all, isn’t it a good idea to get centered, to ground oneself in peace before heading out into the world? For some of us, it just makes more sense to turn a traditional path “backwards.” I’m grateful for his lesson.
Where in your life could walking in a new way provide some new perspective?
The labyrinth is a beautiful way to slow down. Following a single path as it winds toward the center and back out, the mind gets usually becomes quieter. Our pace often changes. Whatever happens, we’re changed a bit for having walked.
If you’ve never walked a labyrinth before, here are some resources to get you started:
I spend lots of time talking with people about what their best lives would look like. On the surface they’re searching for things like a new career, or a new home, or a new relationship. Some want to write a book or build a new company. Others want to volunteer for a worthy non-profit. Many want to travel the world.
What they’re really searching for is a feeling. They believe “When ______________ appears in my life, I will feel __________________.” Whether it’s a new love, a promotion, the car or dining room table you’ve lusted after for years, or pretty much everything else you want, there’s always a feeling you believe you’ll feel upon the attainment of that desire.
At the core of pretty much everything we want is peace, love, or connection. To me, that feels like coming home. A feeling of relief, of being able to exhale. Of letting my guard down and trusting that all is already well. It’s sort of like the “ahhh” you feel when you take off a tight pair of shoes or pants. I don’t know about you, but that moment’s pretty heavenly for me!
My friend and teacher, Martha Beck, and I recently welcomed a new group of coaching students to her training program. During our call, she said:
“Every prayer you’ve ever prayed,
every longing you’ve thrown out into the Universe
was heard and answered immediately,
and the answer was always ‘yes.’
BUT…the Universe never sends your mail
to any place but your real address.
Your real address is peace. It’s self-love. It’s calm.
In that moment when we can go home, we can collect all our mail.“
It’s our job to keep finding ways to return home and collect our mail. Some people pray. Others meditate. Still others find home in creating art. There are so many ways to connect and feel the abundance of our Universe. It’s just a matter of finding which ones work for you. The important thing is to try, and to notice what feels best.
For me, “home” is in the labyrinth, where I can walk slowly (or not), pray (or not), and create enough quiet sometimes that I’ll spot the mail that’s been waiting for me to find it. Home’s also in a certain red Adirondack chair, tucked under some trees, down on Wildflower Pond (which happens to be in my backyard). When my hands are in dirt, or when I’m standing quietly with a horse, I’m home, too.
Where’s home for you? Have you gotten any good mail lately?