Friday, February 20, 2015

Walkin' in a Wintry Labyrinth

About a month ago I decided to take on the practice of walking the labyrinth at least once a week.  So far I have been faithful and have even managed to do it twice on most weeks.  It helps that there is a labyrinth about 5 minutes from my house over on the campus of Eastern State Mental Hospital.  A couple of weeks ago on a day that was particularly sad for me, my therapist strongly encouraged me to get outside and walk.  Though rain was expected he told me that the worst thing that could happen was that I would get wet.  He sad it was good if it was cold and windy because it would help me remember that I am robust and will not melt with a little rain or disappear with a little wind.  His encouragement led me to start walking from my house to the labyrinth.  On the way over and back, I get good exercise, and while I'm there I get to walk the labyrinth.  I have grown particularly fond of doing this at sunset.  And I have not let wind or rain or cold stop me.

Yesterday it occurred to me that it might be cool to see the labyrinth in the snow, though I was afraid that the snow might have obscured the path.  So I drove over and found that the snow was raised just enough over the brick outline that the path was visible.  I didn't have time to stop and walk, but I decided that I would come back tonight at sunset.  It was 18 degrees, dropping tonight to 9.  I tried to park my car in my usual spot right next to the labyrinth, but I realized the snow was deeper than I had thought and that I would probably get stuck.  So I drove a little distance and found a parking space that had been plowed.  I was bundled in many layers, and I pulled the hood of my down coat up over my head and put on my gloves as I got out of the car.

My therapist's challenge has led me to taking walks in 20 degrees, trying to befriend winter instead of huddling miserably inside waiting for spring.  Most of the time I have found that walking briskly warms me up and under my layers I even start sweating.  Not tonight.  Even with my hiking boots and two pairs of socks, my feet got cold quickly. There was a layer of snow over ice, so with each step the ground felt like it was cracking under my weight.  I was not the first person who had been there, but the previous tracks were old and had been covered by fresh snow.  Crunch, crack, crunch, I went around and around.  Sometimes it was hard to see the path, but mostly I could find it.  I kept thinking about how I always find it difficult to feel close to God in the winter.  It's so easy in the spring with new life bursting out all over, but in the winter I just feel depressed.  I asked God to be with me in the cold, but mostly I concentrated on the sound of the crunching under my feet.

As I made a turn I noticed that the sinking sun had begun to illuminate portions of the labyrinth.  It was magical.  I laughed out loud with delight and immediately grabbed my phone to try to capture the moment.  Such beauty.  The snow sparkled and glittered, and the setting sun cast a glow that started out golden and then turned rosy.  I kept walking until I got to the center where I turned to face the setting sun.  I sang the first verse of "In the Bleak Midwinter" but couldn't remember all the words.  It was so very cold; my breath steamed through the purple fleece scarf that covered my mouth.  It was so very lovely, snow and path and light.  By the time I left the center, after having turned to each of the four directions, the sun's glow had left the labyrinth.  No more magic light.  My feet were really starting to hurt with the cold.  I thought about the people who have to stay outside tonight and said a prayer that they might find warmth.  It took me over an hour to warm up once I got back home.  I can't imagine having to stay out in that all night.

I am so grateful for the walk tonight.  I have walked labyrinths all over the country, but I've never walked one in the snow.  It was a gift of winter.  Seems like I've had a few of those this year as I try to embrace this season that has for so long been my nemesis.  Normally this time of year I just feel small and huddled, but the picture I took below shows a very tall me.  Brené Brown has a mantra, "Show up and let myself be seen."  I'm trying to learn to do just that. 

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