Today I was feeling stiff from laying down too much, and kinda stuck, not knowing what to do with myself. So I got in my car and started driving. I eventually ended up at the labyrinth pictured above. I started walking it, and realized that my boots felt wrong.
“Take your sandals off your feet,” the voice rang in my head, “for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” So I did.
With bare feet I continued the walk. I felt the bricks beneath me, the cracks in them, the grass and moss growing between them. I felt how one side of the labyrinth was dry and warm, while another part was dry and cool and yet another was cool and damp.
A few times I found myself looking too far ahead, trying to see where I was going. That never works in a labyrinth. Not only will my eyes get lost, but when I stop keeping my current step at the center, then my feet get lost and my mind gets lost. Each time I tried to plan ahead I felt this. My eyes would lose focus, trying to make out the winding path. My mind would start trying to plan and I’d have to stop because I’d lost track of where my foot needed to go in its next step. So each time I brought myself back to my most immediate surroundings. I stepped the next step and no more. I felt the textures below my feet. I trusted my feet to bring me somewhere. It didn’t matter where. There are no finish lines. There’s only the next step.
Somehow I get the feeling I was learning a life lesson. Or at least being taught one. It’s up to me whether I learn it or not.