Predawn “Stargirl” Labyrinth Walk

Who Is Stargirl?

Stargirl taught us to notice…to care.  You know Stargirl, the spritely, hippie-seeming girl in the Jerry Spinelli story of the same title who showed up at a high school, wrote notes to people, played the ukelele, was nice to everyone, and even cheered the other team’s successes. She turned typical high school life upside down. And, then, vanished.

We walk today in her spirit. Usually ground underfoot is stone-cold and rigid. But with this “winter that hasn’t been” mole humps yield underfoot. We pause by the bell of the Phoenix Harmony Labyrinth.

Cookie Monster has nibbled the rim of the waning Gibbous moon as it slips west. Guided by moon shadows we walk.

From the south Mother West Wind shakes out the Merry Little Breezes. Off they skitter tickling the tops of the firs and rustling the winter-weary leaves of the Derecho-damaged oak.

Four Directions

Stop. Breathe in the air. Neither too cold nor too muggy. It’s Goldilocks. Just right.

To the east, a smear of red on the horizon separates the black earth from the velvet sky. Father Sun, starting to wake up, stretches his rosy fingers. Yet, stars still sprinkle the sky.

The ancient basswood tree full of gaping holes stands silhouetted. How did it survive when the sturdy oak shattered? Perhaps because it didn’t resist?

Totems

Vultures return in March. In fact, I saw one the other day soaring overhead. Checking out the basswood that has been home of vulture families for generations. Some people don’t like vultures because they are homely and eat dead stuff. Who among us is a Hollywood beauty?

As for eating dead stuff, good thing they do…One of Mother Nature’s cleanup crew.  Otherwise, we would be knee-deep in rot. Maybe we are anyway. Good parents their keen eyesight and sharp smell lead them to meals which they feed their babies until they fledge.

Watching the young on their first flights as they swoop down, cross the labyrinth, then flap mightily to land in the fir on the far side is always a thrill. Vultures are good totems.

The pause by the birches feels like home. New England. Robert Frost wrote it well: “When I see birches bend to left and right Across the lines of straighter darker trees, I like to think some boy’s been swinging them. But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay.  Ice-storms do.”

Call and Response

Ahh, off in the woods a call and response as two cardinals awaken and call. A turkey gobbles from a tree top.

At the Center of the labyrinth, I thank the earth elements, plant and animal kingdom, those I have known. I send Grace to those I dislike, which helps me most. I stop and thank guides and Divine love.

Horned Owl

Injured owls find a safe home at the International Owl Center.

An owl floats past. Silent yet hearing, unseen yet seeing all. Quiet knowing. Carrying us through the night into the day.

To the north the Big Dipper’s handle swings off to Arcturus and look! A shooting star blazes brightly dropping into the North Star.

Stargirl is with us.

 

Taking the Direct Path – No Rules Labyrinth

Editor note: Because of a glitch in the system and being uncertain if this blog was published at the original time, we are sharing now.
Guest blogger, Shari McDowell

I walked a labyrinth this afternoon. The one in New Bo, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, between the Bottleworks and the Bohemian. Usually, I walk the path as it’s laid out, stand in the middle, contemplate something that’s on my mind, take it all in, then walk the path out. this time I chose a no rules labyrinth walk.

No Rules Labyrinth Walk

Today was different. No rules, no expectations.

Approaching the labyrinth, I felt pulled from my center. I looked down at my feet on the ground and watched as I crossed all the lines and walked right straight through to the center. I stood there for a moment, then laid on my back and looked up at the clouds in the blue sky.

Blue Sky, Fluffy Clouds

summer sky from the no rules labyrinth walk

The warmth of the sun settled on my face and body. The air around me danced between a breeze and full-out wind ensuring the sun didn’t get too hot while simultaneously whisking away a few tears.

It was a gentle release. A reminder that when I know where I’m going I can just go there. I don’t have to take the expected path. I don’t have to do it the way everyone else does and it really can be simple and straightforward.

Listening to Intuition

I can trust myself, trust my own process, and my intuition. No fluff, no ceremony, no hoops to jump through. Just take action. Do what I need to do. Stop when I need to. Rest. Breathe. Be.

I don’t know how long I stayed there. My head got “busy” brain. I became aware of passersby. The moment had passed and it was time to get up.

I don’t remember if I walked straight out or if I followed the path. It didn’t really matter. I was ready to go so I went.

While there are many things to be discovered by taking the long road or the scenic route, sometimes a direct approach is good.

Walking Labyrinths

Spring and summer have been great for walking labyrinths. Catch up with what has happened at the Phoenix Harmony Labyrinth since snowmelt. On your travels check out The Labyrinth Locator to find labyrinths along your path. Read more on the wonderment tab of Winding Pathways.

 

Walking the Labyrinth in the Snow

The subtleties of walking a labyrinth in fresh snow or in the dark have not been lost on me.  Muscle memory, night vision, and simple observation help navigate the terrain when obvious landmarks are obscure.

Night in the labyrinth

Muscle memory helps find the path in the dark.

Before the snow fell, when I walk the labyrinth in the dark, the memory of the path, familiarity with the number of steps to a turn, and the various plant heights help me navigate.  The funny little statues and boulders along the way form the boundaries.  Lights from passing cars not only illuminate the path briefly and also wreck night vision.  So, counting steps and simply being aware of where I am on the labyrinth help keep me on the path.

 

With snow on the ground, the snowshoes make terrific “pat down” equipment and after a few times walking is easy. So, until a new snow, I can just wear boots. Stay on the beaten path or find myself “post-holing” through deep snow.

The brilliance of a sunny day can be confusing, so after a fresh snowfall, I look for the burned stems of plants and the slight depression of past walks as guides. And, how the drifted snow reveals a different texture is fascinating.

Odd marks in the snow capture my attention.  Little holes that appear from nowhere, then tiny tracks of a rodent, then another little hole where it dropped back in the security and relative warmth of the snow tunnels.

The fate of the incautious rodent is evident where tracks suddenly disappear with telltale feather strokes on the snow. Whoooo’s for lunch?

Walking the labyrinth in winter brings its own rewards.