Seeing
growth in ourselves isn’t always obvious. I find that it is usually in
retrospect that I can see where I was and what has changed so
profoundly. Sometimes it takes an outside object, a physical place, a
person, words that I return to and, in placing myself next to them, I
see that I am not the same. I see, hear, feel, sense them in a different
way. It is like a marker. I think of a child marking her height on a
wall and returning to it sometime later and is surprised and delighted
at seeing that she has surpassed that mark by an inch. We don’t
necessarily see or feel it happening in the moment. When we do find
ourselves awakened to this other place we get the opportunity to take in
what has happened. These are the moments where we can feel awed by
life. I had one of these experiences recently discovering it among
evergreen bushes that led me to the center.
The
Garrison Institute, a contemplative retreat center located along the
Hudson in New York, in what was once a seminary, has on its grounds a
labyrinth. I stayed at the Institute for the first time in 2012 and
visited again two weeks ago for another retreat. This time, it was part
of our practice to walk the labyrinth. Shortly into the walk, I realized
that everything was different. When I was there five years ago, the
bushes that constituted the shape of the labyrinth were small,
individually shaped, round, evergreen bushes. They came up to my shins
and, if I were impatient, could easily step over them and get out of the
maze-like garden. The experience of the labyrinth didn’t strike me much
at the time. This many years later, the bushes are now a continuous
wall, flowing into each other and rising up to the level of my thighs.
They have grown and everything about the experience felt new. As I
walked and sensed this dramatic shift that had happened, I realized that
I, too, had changed. Everything about me was also different. Five years
ago, my life felt in turmoil. I struggled with the major changes and
turns my life had taken. While I knew at the time that it was necessary
to go through whatever it was that was turning my life upside down, it
was painful and seemingly long. And yet, here I was in October 2017
experiencing the same place from a very different inner place. The
labyrinth that ultimately brings us to the center, even when at times it
feels like it is doing the opposite, showed me that I had truly arrived
at the center. It is not a straight course. It often does not do what
we think it will, or take the time we expect it will, and doubt is
inevitable along the way. But in the end, we get to see the whole
picture of where we started and ended and how we got there. Along with
the evergreens, I got to see how I grew and changed. It was subtle and
profound.
Though
I am in the center now and enjoy being here in this more stable,
grounded place, I know there will be other labyrinths I will be asked to
navigate again. I have more understanding in me now, more experience,
and I know my resilience in a way I did not before. Maybe it won’t be so
unbearable next time. Even if it is though, at some point in time, I
will have another perspective of it. It will be another marker of how I
changed, yet again. No doubt, I will find center again. I can rest in
that. Life is uncertain. As the saying goes…that is the only thing that
is certain. Embracing that understanding brings me much relief. I know
not to panic. I know everything changes. I let go and remind myself to
keep at that work of letting go more. It is endless work. In doing that,
I can love more as fear gradually takes a backseat. Bring on the
change. I trust that it will bring me where I need to go.
Epilogue
I
feel the need to add that though it is in bad form to get out of the
labyrinth by stepping over the bushes, sometimes, you need to do what
you need to do. The day I had the realization of how much change had
gone on, I didn’t know how long the labyrinth would take. I ran out of
time and had to get back to my group. I did the awful thing and climbed
out. It felt strange and wrong to cut it short and clumsily make my way
out…but even that is part of life. Sometimes it is just sloppy. The
beauty is that we get to forgive and try again.
