Walking the labyrinth
Step outside its sacred stones,
and the ancient way
slides back underfoot, tracing
its twisted line
through the everyday.
Stand at the threshold. Feel the abyss yawning. Feel your toes curl over the edge. Let it suck you in.
Now you’re on the path. It’s longer than you thought. Take your time. Turn away from your goal. Turn, and turn again. When you see it next, it will seem farther away than before. Keep turning. Trust the path.
Let your feet consecrate the ground. Let them grow roots. Tear them up and plant them anew. Make each step an offering. Make each breath an offering.
Get lost awhile. Forget your intentions. Forget the center. Let go your thread. Be a child exploring ancient ruins. Shed your expectations. Shed your thoughts. Shed it all. Shed it like Inanna’s regalia. Shed it like dead snakeskin.
Become a vessel. Let the rain fill you. Let the sun fill you. Let the wind and birdsongs fill you. Let the holy light of the source fill you. Let yourself brim. Let yourself fountain. Let yourself spill onto the sacred ground beneath you.
Awaken from your trance and discover you’ve reached the center. Rest a moment. Fill it with prayers. Flood it with tears. Offer up whatever is inside you. Throw it on the sacred fire. Watch it burn.
Be still. Sit in the stillness. Let it take you. Let it consume you. Feed the flame. Be the flame.
Let it go.
Let go the peace. Let go the stillness. Let go the center. Let your feet itch again. Let them guide you out. Make each step an offering. Turn, and turn again.
Pause once more at the threshold. Feel a new abyss yawning. Feel your toes curl over the edge. Feel the possibilities calling. Let them lure you.
See what awaits.
One slow step
at a time, you practice
the aching art of leaving,
only to find as you make your bow,
cross the threshold,
and fold your body back into your life,
that it is every bit the twisted holy path
you thought you left behind.
Feature image via Wikimedia Commons
