Some years ago, I went to a health spa in California. I was exhausted and depressed from caring for a chronically ill and severely learning disabled child. One of the activities offered was a walk on the labyrinth.
I had never heard of a labyrinth, the kind you walk on. I thought it was a maze or a puzzle. The walk was described to me as a form of meditation. At first I refused, thinking it sounded too hokey for words. But finally out of curiosity I decided to try it.
This particular labyrinth was copied from the one on the floor of Chartres Cathedral -- and made popular by one of our “On Faith” panelists, Lauren Artress, then Canon Pastor of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. It is a flat circle about 50 feet wide, with a circuitous path to the center. The idea is to focus on a subject, problem or issue you are dealing with and once in the middle of the circle, to meditate about it until you reach some sort of clarity.
It was a warm, beautiful, cloudless day and a slight breeze was blowing as I approached the secluded labyrinth on the side of the hill, surrounded by a lovely grove of live oak trees. I was completely alone and as I entered the circle and slowly began to walk toward the center, I concentrated on my child, Quinn, on his suffering and consequently on my own. When I arrived at the center, I found myself sitting down cross legged and simply staring ahead of me, meditating on Quinn, leaving my mind completely open.
Suddenly, I looked up and noticed that directly in front of me was a large, magnificent palm tree, with gorgeous wide fronds, spreading out around the labyrinth as though embracing everything that was near. It was the only palm tree among the live oaks. I felt a chill run through my body and then I had a revelation. I realized that Quinn was like the palm tree, different from the other trees but in fact more beautiful than any of them. That realization changed entirely the way I saw him after that and the way I was able to deal with his problems and guide him in his life.
A year later, I was scheduled to go back to the spa and was looking forward to walking the labyrinth again. Quinn, then 8, had been scheduled to have a battery of psychological and intelligence tests before I left, but the date was changed to the time I was meant to be away. My husband convinced me to go anyway, arguing that there was nothing I could do while Quinn was being tested. So I went.
On the day and the hour of his most important test I went up to the labyrinth to walk, concentrating as hard as I could on Quinn and on his test. I stayed up there for an hour, sitting in the center and staring at the palm tree. Several weeks later, we went to Children’s Hospital for a conference to get the results of the tests. As we had expected, some of the test results were disappointing, many were erratic. However, on one test, we were told, Quinn scored off the charts. What test was that, I asked. It was the maze.
Was what I had a magical or a religious experience? You tell me.
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