Thursday I walked the labyrinth alone, Friday I walked it as part of a group. In the center I touched ground. The way out is harder then the way in. You have to bring the center back out to the periphery. There is no easy way. You retrace the route out the way you walked in. But it is different, you notice different things, your feet touch the ground in a different way. Holy. Holy. Holy.
I relinquish that which bars me from the fullest center of my heart, that which diminishes my voice, or detracts from my real work. I relinquish what I put in my own way. All the other obstacles then become easier.
That first great loss of our lives is the loss we move out from, We carry that with us, a stone, a blessing, a light, a wound, a hope, a longing. We will always carry it with us, it shapes all the other losses, the losses, like the space around things shape the joys.
Hope is in the way we carry, hope is the act of continuing walking, faith is that we stay open, time after time. We open our hearts, the loss does not matter, the joy does not matter, the openness, the walking this is the core of what matters.
Like the center of the labyrinth open to the sky, open to the sun, the moon, the rain the wind, the bird, the snake, a group of women, one woman alone, walking circles toward the center and then walking out again. Holding the center open. Holy. Holy. Holy.