Meditation on the Labyrinth

Meditation on the Labyrinth

Guest Writer: Gary Kimmel

“The rhythm of the turns flowed into me as I found my pace and walked where the path would take me.”—Twylla Alexander in Labyrinth Journeys: 50 States, 51 Stories (Springhill, 2017).

All Saints

This evening, we walked the labyrinth in memory of Les Hunton, a wonderful friend, a fellow singer in the bass section, and a person who always presented a positive attitude. We miss him.

Each time I walk the labyrinth, I come away with different thoughts. Tonight, the labyrinth blessed me with the following:

  • The paths we follow are a mixture of short, medium, and long. We spend most of our busy lives on short paths: grocery shopping, taking kids to school, and getting over a cold. But some are much longer: taking an extended journey dealing with a terminal illness. We can walk fast or slow, but we can’t avoid these different paths. So, it is our challenge to focus on the path we are on, not on the path we just left or the one coming up.

  • Those who are also on their journey are not always on the same path I am. They may be on a path of a different length, or if they are on the same path, ahead or behind me. Consequently, they may not appreciate where I am in my journey, and vice versa. Therefore, I need to guard against judging their journey based on mine.

  • My path is not better or worse than another’s. They will be different at a point in time, but not better or worse. All of us will walk these paths, but each of us will be affected in unique ways.

  • Richard Rohr points out that there are two stages of life: building the ego and incorporating that ego into Creation. Likewise, as you enter the labyrinth, you must work a little to become contemplative. As you walk toward the center, this mood becomes a part of you. But when you reach the center, you are only halfway. At some point, you turn, retrace your steps in a wholly contemplative mood, and leave the labyrinth with a new/renewed perspective.

I look forward to my next journey through the labyrinth and what it will bring me.

Gary Kimmel

Chartres

Wisdom During Waiting

 Wisdom During Waiting

“To the disciples who were always asking for words of wisdom, the Master said, ‘Wisdom is not expressed in words. It reveals itself in action.’ But when he saw them plunge headlong into activity, he laughed and said, ‘That isn’t action. That’s motion.’”—Anthony de Mello.

Manet Fainting Couch

There is a Greek myth about Psyche and Eros that best describes women’s growth into consciousness. The story is the basis for She by Robert Johnson and Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis. In order for Psyche to reunite with her lover, Eros, she is given several tasks. At the beginning of each task, Psyche collapses and weeps as she sees the task is insurmountable.

My image is Psyche lying on one of those old-fashioned fainting couches that every woman of means once possessed—with her hand turned palm up on her forehead, her eyes closed, and her head leaning backward on or off the couch. It is the feminine body language of surrender and stillness.

Instead of plowing directly into an arduous task before us, the feminine energy in us waits and rests. In the waiting, answers come that are entirely out of the box. They are genuine answers to prayer. Some would say these solutions are received from the Spirit of God within her. Help comes from places she never imagined. 

This is wisdom: the action of waiting, stillness, especially before we are asked to do something we do not think we can do.

I remember waiting in an outer office before a difficult meeting with other physicians. At first, it upset me that I, this important person, had to wait! But, slowly, I realized the waiting was a gift, wisdom from a mysterious source. It was a time to quiet myself, surrender to the moment, and be still before going into this challenging meeting. When I could do this, I carried with me the feminine energy of staying in relationship with those around me. This made all the difference.

We often find ourselves today in a waiting period. We wait in “waiting rooms.” We wait for boosters. We wait for a cure for cancers and forms of dementia. We wait for rain. We wait for rebuilding from tornadoes, hurricanes, and fires. We wait for all our children to be vaccinated and no longer hungry. We wait for our lives to return to what we once considered normal. We wait to spend more time with our children and our grandchildren.

Macrina Wiederkehr1 suggests a way to honor waiting in our lives. She tells us to put “pause” on our to-do list several times.

All this can be seen as a precious time or an anxious time. We have a choice.

1Macrina Wiederkehr in Seven Sacred Pauses: Living Mindfully Through the Hours of the Day (Sorin Books 2008), p. 20.

Joanna Seibert. Joannaseibert.com

 

Nouwen: Our Twilight Zone

Nouwen: Our Twilight Zone

“There is a twilight zone in our own hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves.”—Henri Nouwen in Bread for the Journey (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997).

It is not a coincidence that certain people come into our lives. I remember Catherine Marshall talking about praying for patience, and soon afterward, she hired the slowest housekeeper. As I walked beside them through their struggles, I learned about homosexuality from many gay friends, especially Richard, Terry, and Joe. Likewise, I realized the depth, love, and concern for others of the Muslim faith among my radiology residents and partners, especially Sadaf and her family. 

These are all people I already loved.

Today, I am getting another hint about the people I meet. I also have much to learn from the “difficult” people who come into my path. Over and over, I know they are teaching me about forgiveness. If I cannot forgive the harm they have brought to my life, I will continue to let them hurt me. So slowly, I admit my part: my character defects, my sins, my hubris, and my self-centeredness that contributed to the troublesome situation.

As I meet with friends for spiritual direction, we often discuss what lessons God is teaching us in our contact with each person with whom our lives intersect—whether it be a joyful or painful experience. Again, this is how we gain the courage to deal with that twilight zone in ourselves and in others that Nouwen describes.

The sacred place where God heals us is in our solidarity—especially as we enlarge our community, remove fences and walls, see how alike we are, and simultaneously celebrate the diversity.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/