Recently a friend and I took an afternoon stroll. It was one of the first warm days of spring and the sun was shining down as we headed down the tree-lined streets, through the roundabout and past the rainbow of Victorian row houses.
We were in search of a particular Celtic labyrinth, which lay in the grounds of a wrinkled stone church. At the end of a sunny stretch of sidewalk we came to our moments destination. The gothic stone face was propped up like a cenotaph calling out a story of a time when it had four walls and life within. Now its beauty was something of a sad wisdom with only the respect of times garden growing at its feet. In this garden was carved a path- a path with one entrance and one egress.
Here we sat in the suns smile examining the simple lines on the ground. He rose and walked the path- slowing entering and paces one foot in front of another until he came to the center. He paused and returned along the same path until there remained no path in front of his feet. There, I too entered the path, a question in mind, a burden on my heart and feet heavy with indecision. I looped round and round with only my feet to pass one another. round. and. round. one foot. then the other. then the other. and then- the center. I breathed out and attempted to accept the answer as I moved back along the path- not lost- but in the process of completion. One foot in front of the other did not seem fast enough. My calm answer did not seem enough to keep my mind from filling with more questions. Still, one foot. then the other. then the other. And I tried to breath…. and then there was no path beneath my feet…only the blank ground with no direction. There I found the sun still warm on my face, a friend still there.
In the past few months I have done a lot of talking about process. I have waxed eloquent about the virtue of the journey- I have wined at friend and demanded a more holistic acceptance of life’s process. I have claimed that life existed in those steps we took- each step. Sitting in the garden created by a process past, I was staring at a simple and deep meditation tool. A path that required me to put one foot in front of the other and to forget my attempted calculation of direction. The path was determined and I could not change it. I was facing my own ability to deal with the process… and fear was real. And my faith was just enough to keep putting one foot down. Like many moments in life, the experience was heightened by the wisdom of a fellow walker-
If we look back, all we see is regret
If we look to the future, all we find is fear
It is only in the moment that we are able to decide to make the next right decision.
I don’t actually have the ability to control life’s path. I cannot change the weather any more then I can orchestrate the elements of my interactions with others in the universe. Life is very conducive to regret and fear. Memory gives us a log of moment past were we can project our regret and the future opens a new canvas full of unknown tainted by the shadow of our past experiences. It is only the moments, one after another, that are really free. In this moment the sun is shining down on me. In this moment a garden that is growing and a breeze that is only here with the blink of an eye surrounds me. In this moment I can choose to put one foot in front of the other. In this moment I can choose to do my best to trust that the path will not lead me astray.
lab·y·rinth n
1. a place with a lot of crisscrossing or complicated passages, tunnels, or paths in which it would be easy to become lost
2. something that is made up of many different parts that is complicated and hard to understand
Encarta® World English Dictionary