Lessons Learned at Locust Grove Labyrinth

Our labyrinth at Locust Grove still feels as sacred and supportive to me today as it did on the day we summoned the powerful energies of all labyrinths everywhere to imbue its bright center and dedicated its graveled paths to serving the highest good of all who walk them. Over the past three years, many have sought out its solace for meditation, contemplation, creativity, stress, gratitude, grief, insight, lovingkindness, ritual, release, and more and come away realizing that every walk helps the walker in its own way.

Because our interactions with the labyrinth are metaphors for life, each unique experience—from building it to walking it to tending it—imparts information related to our intentions, especially when we remain open enough to receive this wisdom.

Drawn from our conversations with walkers, as well as guestbook and journal entries, here is just a small sampling of some of life lessons learned at Locust Grove Labyrinth:

• Just as every rock has its place, every person belongs and is an important part of this world—and theirs.
• Each individual rock matters, for it contributes to the beauty of this place and does its part in creating a path to keep others from losing their way.   
• We all walk the same path.
• There is room for all of us, even if we have to adjust our pace or pass respectfully as we head in different directions.   
• There are always juxtapositions: As the rare whine of the leaf blower gives way to blessed beauty and lasting silence, so too can the occasional disagreement clear a path and make it easier to walk. 
• We really can’t get lost.  
• Every turn provides a different viewpoint.
• There is freedom in form.
• The end always comes quicker than we think it will, so don’t rush. Enjoy the journey!   
• Silence speaks the loudest: Remember to listen.   
• The center is always within sight.
• Because all paths lead there, visiting our center is essential to a purposeful life.
• We have myriad types of centers—spiritual, emotional, moral, familial, and more—so we can’t expect to attend to all of them to the same degree at the same time.  
• Sometimes we move closer to or farther away from our centers, but our hearts are always ready to make room for ourselves and others. 
• We don’t have to carry anything with us we don’t want to carry. We can always leave it behind and walk away.
• Our steps are choices, and our choices are steps. Can we choose the ones leading to where we want to go?  
• We always have a choice:  Are we taking the same path back out or are we taking the shortcut?    
• Rocks—and people—weather over time.
• Whether or not we feel we can weather the weather, sometimes we have to do just that.
• We always have a choice: Can we wash off the algae or step out of the rain? Or, is it best to accept this particular condition right now?
• Regularly paying attention will keep weeds from establishing: It’s far easier to pull things out before they take root.      

Sometimes, when I walk the labyrinth, I pick up fragments of white rock—bright against the dark paths—and return them to its center. I remember how I can always center myself. Sometimes, when I walk the labyrinth, I find myself distracted by the responsibility of its maintenance and lose sight of my original intention. I know I can always start again. Sometimes, when I walk the labyrinth, I hear the wind and listen for the message it has for me.  Everything means something. Sometimes, when I walk the labyrinth, faulty perspectives dissolve, insights appear, and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for this sacred space.   

Have you had an impactful labyrinth experience?  We’d love to hear from you!   

Author: Terry Shamblin