Friday, July 10, 2009Walking the Labyrinth We took the railway down to Chartres Cathedral today to walk the labyrinth. It is centered on the floor in the middle of the cathedral, and is as far away from the front door as the rose window above the door is high. Which means, so they say, that if the wall with the rose window were to hinge down to lie flat over the floor, the rose window would directly overlap the labyrinth. The center of the labyrinth, so we heard, catches a beam of light on a certain day of the year (offset by a meter after nearly 800 years) that shines through the middle of the Rose window. A plaque showing the minotaur used to be in the middle, but was removed and melted down for cannon balls during the Revolution.It's the only labyrinth in any of Europe's gothic cathedrals that remains both intact and in its original site. So when Roger and I took off our shoes and walked the path, we trod in the place where thousands of pilgrims have walked, over nearly 800 years. The stones were worn and slightly uneven and perfectly constructed to accommodate the stride of a human footstep. The air was rich, the stones were smooth, the vibes were intense. What you do is enter through the only opening and just walk the path. The path is intricate and even though there's a definite pattern, when walking it the turns are unexpected and somewhat disorienting. There are 28 turns and the precise pattern of the design takes you through all the quadrants at different times, in varying distances from the center. It looks different on paper than it feels in three dimensions. You kind of have to do it to get what it's all about, and even then it's difficult to articulate why it's so simple and complex at the same time. Once you get to the middle, you are supposed to take a moment to reflect. Some people move from petal to petal on the inner blossom, contemplating various states of ascendance, from mineral to animal to human, finally coming to the middle where the divine and spiritual state is signified. It can also be seen as a stepping through the seven chakras, and moving from the red base to the ethereal white light of the spirit. No matter how you see it, the center is the heart of the experience, and the place where the peace and contemplation repose. I have walked Chartres-style labyrinths before, usually in a ritual that is dedicated to mindfulness and walking meditation. What was interesting about today's walk is that there were dozens of tourists, from many nationalities, roaming through the cathedral (and hence the labyrinth) as we were trying to walk it. There was a woman before us who was walking it prayerfully, and then there was Roger and, a few paces behind, me. Among us were waves of tourists and kids and picture takers and gawkers, standing on the paths in our way, running along the lanes in games of tag, and generally being about as un-meditative as you can get. As we were walking, there occasionally welled up some ethereal choir music, coming from some unseen nook of the cathedral. The sounds of the squeaking of our shoes, the rapid patter of the kids who were chasing each other around the circles, and the distant murmer of voices throughout the dim canvernous hall were actually comforting, human, full of life. When we sat in a nook set aside for prayer later, I meditated on those sounds some more and found them to be extremely warm... and far different from the creaks and moans and whispers I fancied I'd hear if locked up in the huge stone building and crypt overnight. The oddest moment was when I got to the middle after about 30 minutes of walking -- an experience that, no matter how distracted you get is still pretty profound -- and turned around to face the Rose Window. A tour group had just filtered into the labyrinth and were leaning up to take pictures of the window. Surrounding me was a sea of maybe two doezen digital screens glowing back at me in the dark, echoing the image of the stained glass. All the shadowy bodies were craned up at the same angle, all were taking in the sight using the camera as their viewing device. It was not enough to look up at the window; it had to be perceived first through the technology of the day. It's a unique type of meditation, walking a labyrinth. And today provided new insights that I'd never had before. For example, some people go through life running through and over patterns that are interesting to pay attention to, and never get a clue that there's something else going on. They are intent on moving through the space, or getting on with the "real" stuff, or taking a picture so they can dwell on the moment later. If some of the people do figure out that there may be something more going on besides just space to get through, there are various ways to approach that apparent pattern. We can study it, we can analyze it mathematically, we can consciously ignore it, or we can try over time to make sense of it. We can decide to be mindful of it as we walk it, we can make a game of it, we can race our companions through it, or we can get extremely peeved that we're constantly running into obstacles that dislodge us from what we perceive is our goal. Finally, once we've decided that we're going to move through the experience with contemplation and as much consciousness as we are able, the experience itself dislodges and unnerves us. The more I felt I was getting closer to the center, the farther away I actually was; as I moved away from it, I was actually getting closer. Once I thought I'd figured out the pattern, it switched on me and turned back on itself. No matter how rigorously I put one foot in front of the other, at a couple of points I was sure I'd lost my way. Very comforting, this last part. I always travel and vow to make things different, better, more exciting, more deep when I get back. I make plans to learn a new language, to study up on my history, to relax more, to keep my sense of wonder and openness. And yet, that's just my mind telling me it knows how to keep the bends in place, how to figure out the design before it happens. It never works out the way I think it's going to, but it always actually works out far better than I could've ever envisioned. The trick, as always, is to just stay on the path, one foot in front of the other, and watch the journey as it happens. As with the labyrinth, you kind of just have to do it to know what it's all about. And even then it's difficult to articulate why it's so simple and complex at the same time. # posted by Katherine Shirek Doughtie @ 2:15 PM  
Comments: Bautiful...and so clearly written that I almost feel I was walking a few steps behind you and Roger. Labyrinth: what an exquisite metaphor for journey, path, perception, patience, and honeymoons... xoxo Mara # posted by  MaraPurl : 9:30 AM
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