by Winding Pathways | Nov 28, 2015 | Birds, Children/Play, Labyrinths, Nature, Travel/Columns, Wonderment
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Lisa organizing the build.
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Hudson, WI, has a new labyrinth at Healing Waters Health Center. Created by Lisa Gidlow Moriarty and assisted by several volunteers.
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Carefully laying stone in the new labyrinth
What fortune to have contacted Lisa Gidlow Moriarty who was constructing a labyirnth at Healing Waters Health Center in Hudson, WI. Rich and I joined the crew and after the lines were drawn using high technology of a bucket and rope and a tire iron to gouge the circuits, we placed rocks that had been hauled in. The concentric circuits quickly asserted themselves and the labyirnth was completed in no time at all! The day was cold, but the hearts and spirits warm. What a fun experience.
The children are quick to spot birds and squirrels.
Time with extended family in the Twin Cities was restful and hilarious as the children explored outside, spotted birds with “noculators”, and constructed wonderful toys from Legos.
Thanksgiving morning four of us walked a lovely labyrinth at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church in Plymouth, MN. Set down in a barrow area, the labyrinth is formal, well-maintained and has a light feel to it. While set apart, it is visible and still private. Well done.
Along the Mississippi
Our drive back along the Mississippi River yielded a fabulous view of Tundra Swans near Minneiska, MN, and a really terrific lunch at a humble looking (on the outside) but spectacular on the inside creamery now restaurant, wine tasting stop and cheesery near Alma, WI. Pretty fabulous. And, the countryside of The Driftless” area (NE Iowa, NW IL, SE MN and SW WI) is gorgeous even on grey November days. Decorah, IA, boasts are pretty great coffee shop and small businesses.
by Winding Pathways | Jun 7, 2015 | Bugs, Labyrinths, Nature, Wonderment
We walked as 19 individuals in a single community waiting with anticipation for the first glimpse of the magical firefly dance. From ages two to mid-sixties with a healthy mix of 20 somethings visiting the Indian Creek Nature Center for the first time, we shared, questioned, chatted and on entering the sacred space surrounding the Prairie Labyrinth, approached reverently. As we began, Teri P read the powerful verses from Longfellow’s Hiawatha about the night and the fireflies:
“All the air was white with moonlight, All the water black with shadow,
And around him the Suggema, The mosquito, sang his war-song,
And the fire-flies, Wah-wah-taysee, Waved their torches to mislead him;
And the bull-frog, the Dahinda, Thrust his head into the moonlight,
Fixed his yellow eyes upon him, Sobbed and sank beneath the surface;
And anon a thousand whistles, Answered over all the fen-lands,
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Far off on the reedy margin,
Heralded the hero’s coming.”
Then, we walked. Each tapped the drum. The children ran eagerly searching…searching and returned somberly. Adult Pilgrims stepped into the labyrinth and fell into silent reverie.
But the night was not. As nature does when given the chance, the evening filled our senses. We wove in and out along the path to the center looking with soft eyes upon the emerging summer prairie. Knee-high grasses cascaded to the ground. Virginia Mountain mint scented the air. Creamy Penstamen turned their tubular faces to the setting sun while butterflies gathered one more sip before dark. Field sparrows, red-winged blackbirds, robins, geese winging overhead called in succession and in the distance tree frogs tuned up for the night chorus. The west glowed faint orange like early evening fireflies do. The earth gave way beneath our foot falls. But, no where did we spy the enchanting flicker of a lightning bug.
In Center, we stood silently after the Firefly poem from “Song From the Sandhills” by Paul F. Long of Kansas. Remembering. Evenings full of magical light as these Coleoptera of the night etched their dance on our memories. In corn fields before potent sprays. In hedges and taller grasses between yards before hedge clippers and riding lawnmowers. In front yards and back yards before monoculture craze took over.
Then, one by one each of us caught a glimpse of a faint glow deep in the grasses. We pointed. Nodded. Smiled. Shared silently. More and more the winking in the prairie woke us up as the fireflies began their dance and story of intrigue – one of code talk, mystery, “femme fatale”, and murder! As the evening darkened and cooled, their lights changed to luminescent green, the pace picked up and the males began to appear higher up in the air. Escorting us out of the Labyrinth.
We walked happily back to the Center as the frogs and toads in the pond chanted, “It’s OK, let them glow, go slow, go slow.” (Virgil Ellis)
by Winding Pathways | Mar 4, 2015 | Labyrinths, Wonderment
Teri P. is an articulate, sensitive pilgrim of Labyrinths. Below Teri shares insights from a year of walking labyrinths in the Eastern Iowa area.
“First time in the labyrinth: Maundy Thursday April 17, 2014
“(Christ) Episcopal Church – Replica of the Chartres Labyrinth. Eight people there. I felt like people were walking fast. Faster than I wanted to. I tried to do the walking meditation as I was taught, but I felt pressured to keep moving. I walked with one foot ahead of the other. Reminded me of walking on the balance beam as a kid. Made me think of Dad. Marion said gymnastics must be where I got my good posture. No other impressions except calm.
“Regis Labyrinth: Saturday April 19, 2014- after a run.
“This labyrinth was a tribute to a beloved teacher. Stones along the path are engraved with inspirational words, “Patience” “Courage” “Pray”. At the center is John 14:6. Situated on the hill behind the school gives the labyrinth a restful feeling of solitude. I think I shall call it my” local”, like you do with a pub. Just a few blocks from my house.
“Solon Labyrinth: May Day 2014
“There was a cold rainy drizzle. When you drive onto the property you see a large round barn. Very cool.
“But around the back of the barn it gets even better. This massive stone arch is perched on the bank of a pond. It was laid up dry, by someone who understood the principle. I made Marion take a picture of me standing under it. As I walked the circuits I began thinking, “if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams….” At the center I moved from one rose petal to the next and wondered where this energy came from and where it would take me. I don’t completely understand, but I seem to feel lighter each time.
“Prairiewoods, World Labyrinth Day : May 3, 2014
“Marion tried to organize a walk, but she and I were the only ones to show up. Marion knows all the bird calls and frog sounds and any other sounds along the path to the labyrinth. When we arrived there were four young women there. Two inside the labyrinth, two outside. We watched the two young woman as they walked. One carried a stick and wrote in the sandy surface of the circuits. Marion measured the energy in the labyrinth – the dowsing rod circled 18 times – clockwise. I walked with two turkey feathers. Tail for guidance, wing for strength, according to Marion. The girls left and a deer showed up to watch. Deer totem means you are highly sensitive and have strong intuition in Native American culture – according to Linda. (When mom died and deer would show up at unexpected spots she started saying Mom sent them to tell us everything was good.)
“Indian Creek Nature Center: August 1, 2014
“Hot, buggy, beautiful sunset. I think we started at 7:00p.m. The prairie grass completely hides the labyrinth from the road. The path is mowed among the wild flowers. Not sure how many people there were. Eight? The path was wide enough to pass people so I did not feel I had to hurry. I set my intention. Not to worry. Things at work were getting to me. I carried a feather and tried to feel my way. I tried to smell and touch and listen – more than I saw. Some of the flowers you could smell easily – I only knew the obvious ones. When I got to the center I started thinking about being in a vortex, wondering why the path was the same in and out, and how winding a wire is part of a battery, isn’t it? I walked out feeling happy – while in the labyrinth I did not think about work at all.
“Laughing Labyrinth: Nov 1, 2014
“The labyrinth is open for walking. I arrive around 8:00 a.m. No one is there. I park my car, take a feather, ring the bell and announce my intention. “Help me with my grief.” Is that an acceptable intention? I still don’t know a lot about this. It has been two years since Dad died and I still miss him a lot. I try to be present. I look at what remains of the flowers. I smile at the metal dragon fly that looks very much like the one in my yard. I wonder what the magnolia tree looked like in the spring. I take my time. I stay in the center for a while, knowing that Marion told me that resolution does not always come while you are here, sometimes it happens on the way out, sometimes days later. So I make my way out, redeposit my feather and am ready to meet the day.”
by Winding Pathways | Mar 4, 2015 | Labyrinths, Wonderment
This blog is compliments of Teri P, who chose to walk the Laughing Labyrinth during a reflection time in the Usui Holy Fire Reiki I Workshop.
“The sun had been out earlier in the morning. Now at 1 p.m. the day was turning into yet one more of those gray Iowa winter days we know all too well. But the temperature was 15 degrees above zero, which seemed balmy after the below zero days we had just endured. The Laughing Labyrinth was partially hidden below six inches of snow; thankfully there were some clues to the path – dried perennials, sculptures and some visible staking. Someone had been there before me. Deer had followed some of the circuits and then cut across the rest, leaving their tracks as a sort of “Naa- naa we don’t have to stay inside the lines” remark.
“This was my second time in the Laughing Labyrinth. I picked up my turkey feather, rang the bell and declared my intention out loud. “Bring me good energy to use in the afternoon Reiki training.” I began the circuit and wondered if I could figure out where the seven circuits began and ended. I decided that wasn’t the most important thing for today. Being there was. “Close” would have to count. I needed to walk fairly quickly, the others would be waiting for me to resume the training. “Good energy” was my mantra. One foot: “good”, the other: “energy”. I wondered if I looked like someone slogging through the mud? The snow was deeper than I thought and I was glad for my tall boots; but I was breathing hard after the first circuit. I did five circuits before I reached the center, losing two along the way. The Center holds a good sized magnolia tree – and I was surprised to see some fuzzy little buds at the end of the branches. Are they waiting for spring or left over from last year? I do not know.
“I rested briefly there, allowing my mind to wander to the spiritual journey that has brought me here. I thought about my friend Diane, a college friend and fellow architect who died 10 years ago from some disease I can never pronounce. She was the person I chose in the morning mediation as someone who inspired me. She was always positive no matter what. We had shared so much. I wondered if she would be laughing now, she loved to laugh, at me taking Reiki training. I decide she would approve and that she might be just the one to send me some extra energy. On the way out of the labyrinth, I felt good. Excited. Strong.
“I rang the bell again, and thanked Diane for her laughter.”
by Winding Pathways | Aug 25, 2014 | Labyrinths, Reflections/Profiles, Wonderment
Hot. Humid. Still. Not exactly an optimal day or time to walk a labyrinth. Necessary.
For weeks I have known that the labyrinth needed tending. The blooming grasses have shot up toward the sun and lodged over. Some completely block the path. Searching for the light, others have crowded into and narrowed the path. Deer have ripped off plant tops. The bird bath is dry. One area has too much sun. Plants are overly exuberant. Another has too much shade. Plants are withered. Creeping Charlie has overwhelmed the stepping stones. Too much and too little of everything. Everything feels out of balance.
Pausing, I begin to notice the beauty. My attitude shifts. Butterflies and other pollinators busily work the flowers. The occasional, slight breeze passes grass pollens plant to plant. The lyrical chatter of the goldfinches undulating across the yard brightens the day. In the shade a random breeze cools my skin. Suddenly the path widens – grace of my imperfect planning. Black Eyed Susans and nodding onions ready to harvest. Tiny purple blooms peek out from the robust prairie forbs. The magnolia pods are set for next spring.
As I notice the plants leaning into the light, Universe and I have a conversation. Behaviors are the manifestation of the negative energies that have persisted in the building and congregation. “What is my role?”
“A labyrinth walk for healing.”
Then, the counter thought: “Those who choose to heal will be here. Those who choose not to heal will not.” (And those who have been deeply wounded, will need to decide.) So, preaching to the choir. But it doesn’t invalidate the experience.
A Pema Chodron quote keeps coming to mind. “Our true nature is like a precious jewel: although it may be temporarily buried in mud, it remains completely brilliant and unaffected. We simply have to uncover it.”
“Simply.” That is the rub. Robyn M-K and Maria K’s service Sunday spoke to “covenant.” From the French covenir and earlier – Latin – covenire – “come together.” About “relationship.” What kind of relationships do we wish to have and in what ways can we move most successfully in these directions of “right relationships”? How do we relate to those who are hurt – even by their own actions? And those on the side who receive the hurt.
Unanswered.
On the way out I re-entered the heat and sun, spotting blooms that I missed on the way in. Joyful. I pushed aside the lodged grasses, intent on my mission. Blocks yielded easily.
Now what. Tranquility isn’t always easy to sort through.
by Winding Pathways | Aug 12, 2014 | Labyrinths, Nature, Reflections/Profiles, Wonderment
Resting.
Recently, a friend and I took a brisk walk punctuated by a “pucka brush” adventure. We ambled along a wide trail under trees, jumped over poison ivy, picked off stick tights, sweated and stepped in “scat”. Charming.
We spotted the most diminutive caterpillars ever – now officially named “toddler wooly bears”.
We paused to admire what I tentatively have identified as Polygonia comma (Eastern Comma) and Speyeria aphrodite (Aphrodite Fritillary) butterflies as well as Monarchs and Swallowtails.
Through the camera lens we captured Joe Pyeweed and goldenrod blooms against the dark woods green.
And, I came home feeling tranquil.
The afternoon was consumed with computer work, trying to figure out how to….you name it. Thank goodness Winding Pathways has an excellent Web Developer who, even at long distance keeps in close contact and fixes the “whatevers.” By the end of the evening I felt drained.
So, I wondered, what is tranquility? Defined as “The quality or state of being calm,” I have decided that tranquility has many faces. A person can be active yet tranquil – think running meditations or wandering though the “pucka brush”. The repetitious movements of ironing or gardening can be tranquil. Sitting quietly and watching industrious insects gather nectar and pollen, hummingbirds chase each other and rabbits forage on clover all can be tranquil.
Any activity that neutralizes the angst, the compulsive “gotta do” state that we regularly live in and transforms it to a sense of peacefulness can promote tranquility. But, this state of being is ephemeral and elusive.
Just as the early spring flowers bloom and disappear within a few weeks, tranquility will seem to pass all too soon. Are we failures? No. Like these tender blossoms it lies just beneath the surface. And, like the spring ephemerals, tranquility will return especially when we “tend the soil” so to speak. We can choose to access the state of tranquility any time.
Herein lies the elusive. To allow tranquility to touch us takes a certain amount of awareness and surrender. Allow the active mind to flow into settled stillness. Not emptiness – stillness.
Think of the ocean buffeted by winds and storms, cris-crossed by boats and littered with floating detritus. The surface is often rough and turbid. Not far below, currents flow more slowly and water begins to clear. Objects sink through the water. Heavier ones land on the bottom. Lighter ones, like silt, plants and plastics, hang suspended somewhere in between. At the depths of the ocean submarine currents move slowly influenced by density and temperature differences. Our thoughts can be like that, too. At some point our minds like water become clear.
Connected to each other and the earth, we can find tranquility.
To best access the state of tranquility, remember its ephemeral nature. We are not “less” when we are un-tranquil. We are just “on the surface” of daily activities. Grace and ease lie just below this patina of our exterior nature. So, we can choose to surrender into tranquility and be the ease, grace, joy and empowerment we are meant to be.
For me connecting with nature helps me attain tranquility. With the Laughing Labyrinth in our front yard the transition is usually simple. Then, I flow with ease, grace, joy and empowerment – even when I have stepped in scat.
