About one week ago, while walking a labyrinth with a group of strangers, I was reminded that the spiritual life is not a linear path.
I must confess, this reminder was met with pretty intense frustration.
For those of you who have never had the opportunity to walk a labyrinth, imagine it as an outdoor or indoor design that looks something like the images below.
About 25 years ago in the United States it might have been quite difficult to locate a labyrinth in your nearby community.
However, nowadays labyrinths can be found in abundance in both more traditionally "spiritual" spaces like a church or a spiritual retreat center, but also in purely secular places like hospitals, public parks, and even prisons.
This growth in interest and construction of labyrinths in the United States has led some people to name it a "Labyrinth Renaissance" because labyrinths are of course not a new phenomenon as they date back thousands of years.
Traditionally, labyrinths have been used as spiritual tools.
For example, during Medieval times in Europe, an individual who wished to make a religious pilgrimage to the Middle East but was unable to, might use a labyrinth that was built into the floor of a cathedral as a metaphor for the actual religious pilgrimage there were unable to make.
Nowadays, many consider the act of walking a labyrinth to be another form of contemplative practice that may feel like prayer and/or meditation.
My first experience walking a labyrinth was about ten years ago at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in the Berkshires when I was 30 years-old.
Since then, I have gone into some of the literature about labyrinths to understand its purpose and possibility for my spiritual life.
For example, Dr. Lauren Artress who wrote the 1995 book Walking A Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Tool, wrote this about the potential spiritual (and I would argue psychological) usefulness of a labyrinth:
The winding path of the labyrinth offers a blueprint for the psyche to meet the soul.
This is a bold statement to be sure, and like all spiritual practices and spiritual moments in my experience, the psyche does not necessarily meet the soul every single time.
Having said that, one week ago for me, it did, and in a moment of clarity while slowly winding back and forth between the "circuits" (that's what they are called) or meandering paths, the confusion and obstacles that I had been experiencing in multiple areas of my life since the winter time, came into focus.
Now, I am not saying that this clarity or insight was pleasant, it wasn't.
As I said already, I was frustrated, but the thing is, it felt like productive frustration if that makes any sense, and according to Dr. Artress, that is what a labyrinth is designed to do.
She writes:
The metaphors within a labyrinth are endless because they are shaped by our creative imaginations...Completion, competition, emptying, turning our back on the center, distrusting our judgment- whatever our psyches need to deal with becomes the spiritual lessons of the labyrinth....
As soon as you get settled into the labyrinth walk and get your bearings, one or more metaphors may spark within...The genius of this tool is that it reflects back to the seeker whatever he or she needs to discover from a new level of awareness.
On this day, my "new level of awareness" born of labyrinth as metaphor, was that my spiritual life--which is to say the sum and the parts of my life as a whole--is not, and will not be, linear.
Ugh!
Two forward, one back. Two back, three forward. So inefficient for this Type A Personality!
But that is how the laybrinth paths wind their way to the center of the circle before you walk your way back out in the same fashion (again, two forward, one back, two back, three forward), until you find yourself at exactly the same physical place you started from, but internally transformed.
So true, yet simultaneously so unsatisfying for this particular human who wants immediate gratification and struggles greatly with impatience.
Ironically, or serendipitously (you pick), on the same day I walked the labyrinth and was confronted with that bolt to truth about the non-linear life, I encountered this book by 20th century Dutch monastic, writer, professor, and theologian Henri Nouwen,
who wrote the well-known book: The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey Through Anguish to Freedom which was described as his "secret journal' written in the most difficult period of his life."
In this physically slight but spiritual dense book, SJ Nouwen wrote a chapter called: Keep Returning to the Road to Freedom, and it includes the following passage:
When suddenly you seem to lose all you thought you had gained, do not despair. Your healing is not a straight line. You must expect setbacks and regressions. Don't say to yourself, 'All is lost. I have to start all over again.' This is not true. What you have gained, you have gained...
It is important not to dwell on the small moments when you feel pulled away from your progress. Try to return home, to the solid place within you, immediately. Otherwise, these moments start connecting with similar moments, and together they become powerful enough to pull you far way from the road. Try to remain alert to seemingly innocuous distractions. It is easier to return to the road when you are on the shoulder than when you are pulled all the way into a nearby swamp.
Okay, so truth be told, as of late, I may have actually landed in the swamp, but nonetheless, this time I do think I have also made it back to "the road of freedom."
Thank goodness.
I hope you too can find your own metaphors, labyrinths or otherwise, that can help you remind yourself as well that the spiritual life is not a straight line.
May it be so.
Contemplative musings by a modern working mother who is waking up in the middle of her life.
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Saturday, May 19, 2018
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Poetry 129: Finally
Finally
When there is no where
When there is no where
left to go,
do we finally
stay?
When the Universe
answers ‘no,’
do we finally
concede?
When acceptance
feels like
surrender,
do we finally
yield?
When bitterness
grips our hearts
do we finally
let go?
-Me
Monday, May 14, 2018
We Age, We Get Sick, We Die
I attended a funeral two days ago for an amazing woman who
had nothing left at the end of her life except the dust of her remains that
were unceremoniously placed in cardboard box with a piece of tape across the
front with her first, middle and last name.
At first, seeing this box I felt deep sadness.
It reminded me of what years of elder poverty and extensive
time in nursing homes can mean in terms of what we leave behind financially.
But then, when I thought about it, really what more do we
need?
Aren’t birth and death the only two life events where we
quite literally don’t have to bring anything with us but ourselves? Isn’t it
the one minimalist journey that we truly take alone?
As I went down this line of thinking, I was reminded of a
poster I once saw at a Mindfulness Retreat with words by Western Buddhist
teacher and author Jack Kornfield that read:
In the end, just three things matter:
How well we have lived.
How well we have loved.
How well we have learned to let go.
How well we have lived.
How well we have loved.
How well we have learned to let go.
This unexpected and spontaneous shift in perspective changed
the way I experienced the rest of the funeral.
It was like a very subtle “settling in” to the moment that
seemed to let go of the resistance I was carrying inside.
I suppose that is what happens when we practice greater
acceptance of universal truths like aging, sickness and death.
Death and dying expert Roshi Joan Halifax referred to this
two-sided coin of resistance/acceptance in her 2010 TED Talk called “Compassion
and the True Meaning of Empathy” when she began her talk with a reference to
the ancient Hindu text, The Mahabharata (that includes the more well-known
Bhagavad Gita).
In the talk, she quoted the part of the story in which the
Lord of Death, Yamaraja, asks Yudhishthira (brother of Arjuna of the Bhagavad
Gita) one question:
What is the most wondrous thing in the world?
To which Yudhishthira answers:
The most wondrous thing is that all around us people can be
dying and we don’t realize it can happen to us.
Remembering this story made me wonder: what would it be like
to live with a profound acceptance of universal truths like aging, sickness and
death?
At the funeral on Saturday (that was for an 89 year-old
woman who died of natural causes which admittedly can make acceptance much easier), I wondered if that level of acceptance might
transform a more traditional funeral into an experience more akin to a farewell
ceremony that would complement the welcoming ceremony of a newborn that occurs
in some cultures at the very beginning of the lifespan; only would be the final
goodbye.
In this spirit, the gathering might feel more like the
international departures section of an airport, where all of our favorite
people are there for the big send-off.
For this fine lady, having made
the unconventional decision years ago not to marry or have children (oh yes,
she made a conscious choice!), it meant this particular funeral was attended by
generations of nieces, great nieces and nephews, and great-great nieces and
nephews- all of whom came together to say farewell to the unofficial matriarch of
their family.
For myself, being a somewhat insider-outsider, Margaret
Mead-esque person in this particular clan of humans who live and die by the
Catholic tradition, the movement into greater acceptance allowed me to watch
with warm curiosity and loving-kindness as the priests walked circles around
the box of her ashes with incense and recitations of prayers that everyone but
me seemed to know.
And having known the intensity of devotion that this feisty,
petite French Canadian woman from Northern Maine carried with her throughout
her life, I found myself particularly moved by that beautiful Psalm that even
us non-Christians are familiar with: Psalm 23.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Listening to this Psalm, I felt a deep reverence for this
woman who was the caretaker of all caretakers. I also felt an awe of her
unwavering faith.
I always loved the opening lyric to the 1985 Tears for Fears
song “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” that goes:
Welcome to your life.
There’s no turning back.
There’s no turning back.
For me it has that same sense of radical acceptance that our
human lives flow in just one direction and we all know how this will end.
So what would a world be like where human beings were able
to maintain a consciousness of these universal truths as we live out our
day-to-day lives? Where universal
aspects of life including aging, sickness and death could be met and held with
reflective acceptance?
I have no idea.
I can only say that on Saturday, being with the pain, as
opposed to resisting the truth, did transform the experience of the funeral
for me.
Perhaps it may for you as well.
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