The idea of walking labyrinths is not a new one. We all remember from our high school Greek mythology that Daedalus built one for King Minos to contain the Minotaur. The half-man, half-bull creature was thought trapped in what we now think of as a maze.
But mazes are different from labyrinths. A maze is a game or puzzle with dead end paths and obstacles that require outsmarting in order to get from the beginning to the end. A labyrinth, on the other hand, has only one path. You start walking the path and follow it completely until it comes to the end. No surprises, no games, no dead ends.
So if they aren’t like the mazes in corn fields where teens everywhere get delightfully lost as part of their autumn ritual, where’s the fun? They are simply boring.
That’s the point of course. Beginning in medieval times, cathedrals started putting labyrinths as inlays in their floors. They became sort of mini-pilgrimages, and that’s the way they are used today. Folks can walk the path without thinking, just concentrating on meditation and the path toward their own kind of enlightenment or salvation. They are non-denominational. They beckon all to take the same journey, yet find different things.
There are some amazing labyrinths in the world, though I have only seen a few. I love the one in San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. In late January I walked one at the Church of the Epiphany in Washington, DC, while waiting for the funeral of a friend to begin. Boston College built one as a 9/11 memorial.
Here in Portland we have the Parkrose Community Peace Labyrinth. It is based on the traditional seven-ring design of ancient times. (The inset picture above shows the design echoed in the marvelous gate designed and built by George and Eileen Belanger.)
On a recent Saturday we decided to check it out. Still unemployed and both a bit discouraged, we could use some quiet time away from the world and its worries. As we began, I was bored and anxious. But that soon changes when you walk the labyrinth. Silently walking the paths, you become unaware of your surroundings. The turns are not symmetrical, as it first seems. They double back on one another, sometimes just a few yards before turning and sometimes ten times that distance. You lose track of where you are because it doesn’t matter. That half hour did the trick. We emerged calmer and with the feeling that we would be able to face whatever the world tossed our direction. Such a simple idea, and yet so profound. No wonder it was weathered the centuries so well.
To see if there is a labyrinth somewhere near you, visit the Labyrinth Society. You’ll find one, I’m sure. I discovered that the Parkrose Community Peace Labyrinth is only one of 13 in Portland.