Walk 26 and 27 : August 11 I got out of the house early enough to take a morning walk. The light in the morning always pleases, the ground always wet, always the challenge of the small pond in the upper right quadrant, more brown and yellow leaves on the path tell me summer will not last forever, but the shade tree above looks all green, as if the brown and yellow leaves were plucked like stray grey hairs when they are few. The birds were out in force many of them taking part of the labyrinth as their walk until I showed up and they fled. Later I came directly after work. The ground was very dry and the sky was grey. I felt the cold greyness after a numbing day of offended students and faculty. Midas the dog ran into the labyrinth to greet me, and turning to say hi felt jarring, as I was veering from the path. I thought of the beautiful little girl who died and who was honored in the creation of the garden as I walked out. I think of the little girl statue as her, I see today in the greyness that the arms outstretched with birds perched on them are crucified. On this day, I was more moved by the white heron who flew in front of my car with loping wings, than by the labyrinth, and the stunning quiet and dark sky when I emerged from hours at a bookstore hunched over paperwork. I thought about the rich conversation I had the night before with my dear friend, the healer and artist. The labyrinth walk is a practice, I don’t think that every day I will find the heights of awareness. Just showing up, as I learned in yoga, with dedication, will bring out its gifts.
Walk 28: August 12 In the morning the grey was different, serene, like the grey of the dove who eats the seeds I provide and does not fear me. She has grown fat over the days, bigger now than the other birds who fly when they see me. She stares at me with a black glittering eye ringed in green, unblinking. I start my walk on the labyrinth and I know where I am–I take in the labyrinth’s embrace like the hug of an old friend, but without feeling I need to keep strong and independent as I do when I get such a hug. The owl makes her presence known, I have noted that she is there morning and evening. Midas steps out, and Kathy pulls him back in when she sees I am walking. The path is damp, after the rain, but there is no puddle to try me. At the center, I look beyond the labyrinth and myself out to Germantown Pike and the school buses and the ambulance car. I will miss all the shades of red in the garden when fall comes.