Every time I lead a labyrinth walk, I always begin by saying, "There's no right way to walk the labyrinth. There's no wrong way to walk the labyrinth. There is only the way that you walk it today." I say this as much to remind myself as to instruct others. For years I didn't "get" the point of walking a labyrinth. It was pleasant enough, but I was sure I wasn't doing it the right way. That's been true with many a spiritual practice for me. If I don't have a powerful, tangible experience of God - and by that I mean healing occurs or a vision or an inner voice or a spiritual euphoria - then I must be doing it wrong. Because other people have those powerful experiences and I don't. They're right and I am wrong. Even now, after years of walking the labyrinth and finding it to be a transforming, though often subtle practice, I still fall into the trap of thinking that if a particular walk doesn't yield definable fruit, then I haven't done it quite right.
The other day Jan Brown and I were talking about labyrinths with some other folks. We discussed how the subtle ways of labyrinths and how they often speak through symbol and metaphor. Everything that happens on the labyrinth can be useful. Jan mentioned that some people can't wait to get to the center and get frustrated when the path goes near the center and then turns away. Someone else mentioned that she didn't think she'd ever get to the center so she just gave up. Jan asked, "And how do you see that playing out in your life?"
I've heard her ask that question many times before - I even ask that question when I'm facilitating walks. This time, as I pondered it, I had an epiphany. When I walk the labyrinth I'm rarely frustrated by the twisting and turning of the path. I don't worry about how long it takes to get to the center; I'm happy to be on the path. My downfall is thinking about what's supposed to be happening. Am I getting the insights I'd hoped for? Am I listening well enough? Did I choose the right intention or ask the right question? Am I paying close enough attention to my breathing? In other words, am I doing it right? I know that when I let go and am open to the process and the walk, sometimes insights do come. Or I'm more aware of what God is doing in creation. Or I sink into myself more deeply and become clear on some matter simply because I'm not worrying about external factors. I can hear my inner wisdom and sometimes I'm pretty sure I hear God. If those things are not happening, then I'm not doing it right. Right?
How do I see that playing out in my life? Oh, the stories I could tell. I'm convinced that if I do everything right, then all the outcomes will be what I desire. And when things don't turn out the way I'd hoped, then I must have done something wrong. It can be paralyzing when trying to make decisions. It's not like there's some clear, objective way to know how things will turn out or even if the way they turn out is the right way.
In the past couple of weeks I've returned to a practice that I have a love/hate relationship with: centering prayer. As often as I've tried centering prayer and meditation, I've never been able to get it to work for me. I'm frustrated by my clamoring thoughts and end the time feeling discouraged that I haven't found the peace that other people experience from these practices. I've been convinced that I'm not doing it the right way, even though I know THERE IS NO RIGHT WAY. This time, though, it's working. I don't know how. I don't know why. Maybe it's finally the right time. (But there is no right time, right? There's only now.) Maybe God has called me to it. Maybe I'm just in a different place or I have different expectations. What I know is that I'm showing up, consenting to God's presence in my life, returning to my sacred word when I notice my thoughts, and then going on my way when the time is up. This time I do feel calmer in my daily life. I do feel happier. I'm able to laugh more at all the challenges arising around me. I'm able to handle my stress better - just as they say will happen when we engage such practices.
There is no right way. There is no wrong way. There is only the way I engage the practice today. Tomorrow it may be different. For today, I am grateful.
