Lenten Labyrinth Learnings, Part 1

A year or so ago, I learned from a cousin of mine that there is a website listing all the labyrinths in the world. (Well, maybe not every. single. labyrinth … but it sure does include a lot!) I remember thinking then that a cool Lenten discipline would be to walk a labyrinth every day, preferably a different one each time. Turns out Baltimore has dozens within a 25–mile radius. So this Lent ended up being my year to give it a go.

I was familiar enough with labyrinths to know and understand the basic idea of them being a metaphor for life: a journey with potential obstacles along the way but if you keep moving forward, you won’t get lost and you’ll eventually reach the center (i.e. God, Spirit, the Divine, Nirvana, Shalom, etc.) with times along the journey getting you very close to the center but then the next turn or two taking you far away from it again. I also knew that walking a labyrinth was a means for introspective contemplation, which made Lent a particularly appropriate time of year to engage in this kind of experience.

So I began my daily journeys on Ash Wednesday, and I’ve purposefully kept my expectations low with no real agenda. I’ve opened myself up to whatever was given to me with each walking.

Some observations so far:

~ Simply deciding which labyrinth to walk each day has been its own kind of journey. The Baltimore area is blessed with an embarrassment of labyrinth riches. Taking time to plan which one to explore each day has been a joy I hadn’t expected. In the 2.5 weeks of Lent so far, I’ve had business outside of town twice. Ooh … let me check the Labyrinth Locator (https://labyrinthlocator.com/) to see what’s offered in DC, Columbia, Wilmington … And obviously not having been able to take advantage of every labyrinth in those locations on these particular trips, I’ve even been inspired to tuck away information for future walks the next time I visit them.

~ Even though the website gives some details about each labyrinth (like the size, number of circuits, construction materials, sometimes even a picture), I’ve purposefully ignored those specifics so that each experience would be a surprise, beginning fresh immediately upon my  arrival, with no preconceived notions. As a result, it’s been like opening up a wrapped present and delightfully discovering in the moment what that day’s gift will be. The variety of construction materials alone has amazed me. Who knew there were so many ways to build a labyrinth? Brick, stone, cobblestone, cement, dirt, grass, pavers, gravel—of various sizes—slate, dirt, concrete, mulch, plants … I’ve loved the anticipation of wondering what that day’s labyrinth would look like and how, if at all, those aesthetics would impact my walking experience.

~ I’ve also been especially interested in what, if any, instructions or explanations have been provided. Again, I’ve found it fascinating that there have been so many different takes on what a labyrinth is, what it’s for, and how to prepare for and then experience it. The Hopi Indian-inspired labyrinth encouraged listening to the sounds of nature. The university labyrinth explained the journey as designed to encourage contemplation as well as problem solving (or simply to help the walker slow down and reduce stress). A community garden location invited pilgrims to allow their spirit to be refreshed. Labyrinths on church grounds tended to focus on God/Holy Spirit, transformation, and wholeness, sometimes offering a variety of scripture verses along with encouragement to pray.

The most challenging walk so far has been at American University. This labyrinth was located outside the campus Spiritual Life Center, which was at one end of the main quad. That meant, there would likely be a lot of surrounding activity, and that was certainly the case when I was there. Of course, there was no activity on the actual labyrinth itself (!) so I was able to walk it unencumbered. But there were plenty of aural distractions to test my contemplative patience and skill. Of course, I could hear the murmurings of many conversations between the multiple people passing through the quad but benches butting up against the perimeter of the labyrinth allowed me to hear specifics (“My sister is at USC. I’m so proud of her …”). Apparently every Tuesday from 2:00-3:00, the Spiritual Life Center offers Tea Time for students to drop in and drink some tea, enter into conversation, and get a break from their busy week. My visit happened to coincide exactly with this weekly event so I got to hear the chipper Spiritual Life worker (hoping, I’m sure, to lure students in for Tea Time) greeting everyone who passed by  with an enthusiastic, “Happy Tuesday! Happy Tuesday! Happy Tuesday!”

There were also at least three campus tours that ended up within earshot. One of them stopped just shy of standing on the outer labyrinth ring. “This is our main quad,” explained the tour guide. “That’s the library at the far end with the Spiritual Life Center at this end. And this,” he said as he pivoted about 90 degrees to his right and gesturing in my general direction, “is our maze.” Oh, I couldn’t let that go! “No, no! No, no, no! This is a labyrinth. A Lab-y-rinth. Very different from a maze!” He looked at me blankly with a does-not-compute-does-not-compute look on his face, paused only a moment, and then picked right back up with this script, which had already moved on from “the maze” with absolutely no follow up or explanation as to what it was or why it was there.

I have no idea how many of the people in his group knew what a labyrinth was, or how it was different from a maze. But if the curiosity of even one of them was piqued to the point of researching it later on, or if the tour guide (fingers crossed) was inspired to correct and expand (fingers doubly crossed!) his script for future tours, then the educator in me will feel like those 15minutes were not wasted. Because I sure didn’t get much introspective contemplation in that day!