by Leslie Wright
I am a Veriditas advanced labyrinth facilitator. A part of me is open to the magic and mystery in the universe but, the other part can be skeptical. Maybe it is because I am a Pisces. I have found that the Universe is willing to help me by repeating lessons. Reminders to pause and take note. Let’s call them a pause.
When I was at Chartres the message, I got several times, was I walk among my teachers. I would like to tell you about one of my teachers. A few years ago, I offered a series of public labyrinth walks. As with any walk you never know what is going to happen. On our first walk we welcomed the small group as they arrived and they explored the finger labyrinths. One woman, let’s call her Natalie, was rather taken with a beaded classical labyrinth I have. Natalie told me that she thought this labyrinth would be something her son, who is blind, might like. That was my first reminder to pause. We never know what burdens or challenges people are carrying.
As Natalie came to several more of those walks, I got to know some of her story. She was quite ill. At times she couldn’t attend a walk because she was too tired after dialysis. My next pause. When she did walk it was a bit unsteady but she seemed peaceful. Around this time, I became increasingly aware of a lot of people in our community who were dealing with grief. I reached out to a social worker and we arranged to work together. Natalie said that she would like to attend the grief walk maybe with her mother because she had made the decision to go off of dialysis. My next pause. That was more than a pause, that was a full stop.
I saw Natalie at our next public walk. Because I now knew some of her story, I shared that you can pick a spot on the labyrinth and begin walking and just see where it takes you. I was kind of relieved that the spot she picked took her into the centre quickly because I knew she didn’t have a lot of energy. I watched her in the centre for a long time, laying down burdens. This was one of those times I wish we didn’t have the rule about not taking photos but I probably wouldn’t have done her justice. She was radiant and beautiful. Indeed, she shone from within. I had placed stars around the labyrinth. She picked some up and then put them back down. She told me she was leaving them for other people. Another pause.
I had prepared some music from Velma Frye’s Seven Sacred Pauses in case I did meet her again. I considered her song called “Put Everything in Order.” But that seemed a little too presumptuous. Instead, I shared “All Through The Night” a beautiful lullaby. I envisioned Natalie quietly listening to it as she died. I was a bit nervous. Maybe she wasn’t peaceful about all this. At the end of the walk, I shared the resources including first song. I was touched when she emailed that she downloaded both songs. When I asked if there was anything else I could do she said “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.” Another pause and moment of gratitude to the Universe for reminding me to trust my instincts.
When I found out the Natalie couldn’t attend the grief walk, we arranged a private one. I can’t describe how powerful the whole experience was. Natalie had things planned out. She would walk in leading her mother, Sophia, and once in the centre she wanted a chair and a wrapped gift she brought placed there. The day came and one minute it was stormy and the next sunny. Sophia seemed a bit hesitant. She had never heard of labyrinths before all this so I did a brief presentation. When she seemed ready, I put on Lauren Artress’s play list and I witnessed the walk. Sophia has fibromyalgia, something we have in common, so she too was unsteady at times but Natalie led the way. Once they got to the centre Natalie had her mother sit in the chair and she knelt at her feet. This woman who was in such pain but she could still kneel. They laughed and cried. One of the most moving moments was when several times they touched their foreheads together. I am intrigued by what was in the gift. Natalie, as planned, began walking out first and her mother followed. Once they got out, I put on “All Through the Night” again. Many more reminders to pause.
I ran into Natalie the next day and I am glad I was able to tell her what a privilege it was to witness her walk. I was a bit tongue tied. Again, Natalie led the way by saying “until we meet again.” Another pause. I smiled and said I looked forward to seeing her in heaven and that I would probably still be talking about labyrinths and we shared a laugh. I don’t know what the future holds for her. Maybe that’s another lesson for me. I’ve certainly been reminded to cherish each moment and just to provide a welcoming space and let the labyrinth do its thing. Natalie, I hope you find peace, my beautiful teacher. Blessings on your path.
