Reflecting: Walking the Labyrinth

I'm currently on Retreat at Wydale Hall (near Pickering), with other members of staff from districts across Yorkshire and the North East. The theme is the Woman at the Well (John 4), and as part of that, we walked the Labyrinth in the grounds at Wydale. Below is a sort of "stream of consciousness" reflection on the experience....

I stand at the grass on the start, wondering what I am doing here. Ahead of me, a winding and narrow path. My instinct is to just walk it, at my normal pace, but this is supposed to be an opportunity to reflect; to contemplate; this is not a race. Although most of the group are already on their journey, we are all making our own way along the narrow paths. I take the first step, and begin my walk,

The Labyrinth at Wydale

The Woman at the Well. When she sees there is someone else there, in the heat of noon, what does she do? Make boldly for her destination? Wait? Circle cautiously, hoping he'll go - or at least not notice her?

The path turns. Pause. What weighs heavy on me at the moment? What am I bringing into this time and place of contemplation? I move on, slowly.

Another turn. Jesus and the Woman at the Well have a discussion, in which she in particular seems to be taking a winding path; not wanting to get too close to the heart of things, but not wanting to walk away either. She circles the centre, not wanting to get to close.

Turn again. This time it's one of the longer paths, moving from one quadrant to another; you cover a semicircle before you need to turn again. One of the things about a Labyrinth is that it has this mixture of long and short paths; is this like following God, where everything has its season, and some are there for longer and others shorter times? 

Turn.

Turn. I'm skirting the centre now, but I know there's still far to go. I squeeze past some of the plants growing. There's Lavender planted around and in the Labyrinth; in this late springtime, the strong new growth is springing from the older, woody stems, but isn't quite hiding them. New springing from old.

Turn. I'm following a path that many have trod before me. That sounds like Pilgrimage... 

Turn. But each one seems to be taking me further from the centre that I had been so close to. One step forward, two steps back? But actually, if I keep following the path before me, it will take me to the centre. 

Turn. What am I praying for? Who am I praying for? Those who walk closely with me? For health and happiness...

Turn. Another longer path between quadrants, a narrow gap between the Lavender. Can I quiet my mind for a while, just listen? What is God saying to me now? I linger, and wait for inspiration.

Turn. The Woman at the Well didn't want to let Jesus get too close. Was a lifetime of disappointment, of being discarded, of being an object of derision and gossip the reason why? Was she wary of letting him in, because she knew what that led to? Does she stand for so many hurting people, who have grown hard from the scars life - and other people - have left on them?

Turn. Disorientation. Have I walked this path before? Have I been in this quadrant yet? I'm losing track. All I can do is keep walking, trusting the process - and the Labyrinth's builders. Turn.

I can hear birds. The wind in the trees. What I think are the sounds of children doing some sort of Forest School activity. Even in the contemplative space of the Labyrinth, I am aware of the world around me. I am part of it, not separate from it; but for now at least, it feels like a more harmonious place to dwell. Turn.

I've been on the Labyrinth for a while now. I haven't looked at the time, haven't really done anything except let my thoughts wander occasionally, and tried to let my feet slowly wander while I try and devote my mind to the things of God.

Turn. The Woman at the Well. Meeting Jesus changes her life. She then changes others, as she boldly heads off to tell her neighbours about this man who seems to know everything about her, and has yet not cast her off as so many others have done. Turn.

...and suddenly, there ahead is the centre. The path has led me true. Back and forth, round and round, twisting and turning, and yet every step has moved me closer to the heart of it all. I join my companions in the centre. And, for a while, I sit, in the companionable silence, in the centre. Soon I will have to leave; but not just yet...