I built a labyrinth in my front yard as pandemic lockdowns swept the globe.

Walking it centers me. I reflect on how I’m showing up in the world. I seek a more nuanced understanding of balance. It’s brought solace and meditation, connection and creativity into my life. This radical ritual is an enriching reminder: I am always calling myselves back to myself.

The Patterns We Practice

Sometimes, lost in life’s chaotic maze, a revelation will illuminate the pattern as clearly as if it were a labyrinth, with one way in and only one way out. Despite disorientation, following the labyrinth’s threaded path will guide me to my destination. This perspective on the patterns I practice emerged from watching drone footage captured by another neighbor as I dug through my lawn to edge the labyrinth’s pathway.

The pattern inscribed into my yard is a Classical, left-handed, seven-circuit labyrinth. It’s thought to be 4,000-5,000 years old, appears on Cretan coins, and evokes tales of the Minotaur. The Mahabharata tells of the warrior Abhimanyu assailing a defensive Chakravyuha labyrinth. In Southern Peru, the Nazca Lines incised onto the desert floor include giant double spirals and monkey tails. Medieval labyrinths in gothic cathedrals like Chartres in northern France multiply meanders in paving stones.

I have lit my yard up with solar-powered LED lights, which makes it feel more modern and accessible even to the ICU nurse who lives nearby and likes to walk it when she comes home after an intense night shift.

Walking a Labyrinth

Each encounter with a labyrinth is supremely personal. They invite inspiration, connection, play, introspection, release, and so much more. Even a David Bowie dance party!

To walk a labyrinth, simply place one foot in front of the other, and the path you follow will take care of the rest. For a more intentional experience, become the listener and not the thinker of your own thoughts with four Rs, adapted from Veriditas, that align to preparing, beginning, pausing, and exiting a labyrinth.