Moonlight ‘Awapuhi Walk
Walk to reflect, release, receive, and return
November 15th | Sunset | ‘Awapuhi Labyrinth
November brings immediacy to our activities. Preparations are made before a season of gatherings and expectations. There’s the pinch of dwindling time, the balance of nourishment with obligation, the harvest of what has been sown and tended across the year.
I am planning to take a walk by moonlight at ‘Awapuhi Labyrinth on November 15th, pausing:
As I approach the labyrinth, to reflect on the steps I’ve taken this year and the ones I wish to take;
As I enter the labyrinth, to release my expectations and obligations, my grief and my disappointment;
As I arrive in the center of the labyrinth, to receive the wisdom and inspiration, the spark of curiosity to light my way through any darkness in the months ahead; and
As I retrace my steps through the labyrinth, to return back to community, rejoicing, resolved and rejuvenated.
I settle into these plans on November 1st’s new moon, imagining a future timeline from where I sit in Atlanta. Hearing laughter, I move to the couch under a bay window looking out over the Enrichment Labyrinth in my front yeart. A man carrying his daughter on his shoulders pauses next to the labyrinth’s entrance, and his pregnant wife slows, smiling, their dog frisking around the empty stroller.
He steps into the labyrinth, pausing at turns until his daughter crows “Left!” or “Right!” (Even though there is only one possible direction to go…) In the center, she shrieks with delight as he jumps up and down. Then he sets her down, both breaking into a celebratory dance. He follows her as they retrace their way out, giving her gentle encouragement forward whenever she slows, wondering, eyes scanning from side to side, not trusting her way forward.
Mr. Bill Purray wends his Siamese slink along the back of the couch, settling his bulk against the side of my head to peek out the curtain sheers with me at their progress. I wonder how many times his head has turned from side to side like this, watching walkers like squirrels, weaving back and forth.
I contemplate the steps I can take now that will bring my joy and laughter, lightness and ease in the months ahead.
I spark curiosity about the ways I can gather with community as a source of light and comfort.
Join me in person, by finding a labyrinth near you to walk, or even tracing a pattern with your finger on a piece of paper!