Lunch at the Labyrinth
T-Bird takes life as it comes
When I enter the path, I can clearly see the goal. The center of the path. The object of the game. There it is! I head out confidently straight towards it. But the path suddenly veers to the left. I’m moving away from my goal. But my confidence is still high, my energy levels are still revved up, the memory of the goal being in my sights has not faded. Any disappointment is only temporary.
Soon the path curves back to the right, and although I am a bit further from the goal then when I started, it is clearly in sight again and the forward momentum of my ambition will have me claiming my reward in moments. Instead, the path cuts sharply away from the goal once again. It quickly twists and turns back and forth, one instant I am so close to my goal that one more simple step towards it will get me there. The path has other plans though. The turns come so rapidly that I have to slow my pace or risk becoming unbalanced. I barely move forward at all, but keep twisting back and forth. For a few moments, I lose my sense of direction–lose site of the goal– and focus instead on my bare feet on the smooth pavement of the path.
There is gritty sand along the edges of each square from hundreds of tiny, abandoned ant mounds. The ants are gone for the season already, but have left their carefully built little homes behind, as if they had been tiny tourist here for a visit and have now returned to their industrious lives– renewed, refreshed, invigorated about the work they perform everyday. What would refresh me, I wonder? How could I feel renewed and invigorated about the work that I perform everyday? What part of my day is filled with work? Which part of my day is filled with responsibility? Joy? Rest? Connection? Reflection? Self-imposed isolation? Reaching out only to find that I’ve been handling things on my own for so long that everyone has gone elsewhere to tend to their own refreshment, renewal and invigoration. What part of my life can I invite them into now that I’ve sent them away?
I see the path ahead of me once again. Curving. Winding. Ebbing. Flowing. Each block perhaps a day, a moment, a year. Each block separated from the one next to it by hundreds of tiny blades of grass. Blades that pushed up and around the concrete so that they may live and grow closer to the sun. Some blocks are dirty. Some are gritty. Some are almost pristine in their whiteness. Some are very tiny. Some are oddly shaped. They were created to be uniform for the most part, but time and use and nature have made each of them unique. Some are warmed by the sun and I linger on them a second longer than the ones that are caught in the dappled shade of the tree. I look for the center–the goal– once again. I am the furthest from it that I have ever been. Further away then when I first began.
I am on the edge of the path covered in the shade of the tree and it is difficult to keep moving while simultaneously seeing the goal. I am heading in the opposite direction all together—back towards the direction I started from. Perhaps it is time to reassess the goal, reconsider, renegotiate, realize the folly of my choice. Beat myself up for being close so many times before and not freezing those moments in time and clinging on to them with triumph…or desperation…or fear of losing them forever. Maybe it is time to stay right where I am. Stop. Don’t go any further. Admit that I have made a mistake. Turn around. Give up. Give in. Blame someone. Yell. Pout. Doubt. Doubt myself. Doubt my ability. My worthiness. My right to pursue happiness. My deserving-ness.
I breathe in deeply. Raise my arms above my head. Stretch my back, and my lungs, and my torso, and continue to reach up until I am on my tiptoes. I use the added inches of elevation to look more closely at the sky. The trees. The birds. The distant clouds. I breathe out. I hadn’t realized that my neck hurt from looking down. I challenge myself to try and follow the path without looking at it. Can I feel the curves before they are coming? What would be the worst that happened if I felt prickly green grass under my foot instead? Would I be allowed back on the path? Who would stop me? I could have walked off the path anytime I chose to this whole time. The birds don’t care. The poor dead little mole laying by the bed of flowers is past caring. The Black-Eyed Susan’s don’t care. The milkweed and the cat tails and the apple trees don’t care, either. They are just here for the view. They are rooted and must stay here. I am free. I can chose to stay the course. I can chose to walk off the path. I can chose to start again. Now. Later. Tomorrow. Never. My choice. My life. Or is it cheating to veer off the path? Who makes the rules? Who enforces them? Can I afford the penalty? I am bound by rules not of my making. I am not always free.
The alternatively cool and warm stones continue to pass under my feet. I breathe them in. I breathe them out. My back is to the goal. A few more steps, however, and I enter the center of the labyrinth. Round and whole and waiting for me to decide whether I shall retrace my steps in order to enjoy the journey simply for what it is. Or is that choice simply following the rules? Justifying my conformity? Staying the course and claiming that any unhappiness I feel about it is simply life. Or selfishness. Or should I be a rebel pioneer and walk straight out, straight over the pavement squares, and rhombus’s, and rectangles, and trapezoids. Straight past the ant mounds. Straight past the apple trees and the lifeless little mole. straight back from where I came…or to something new. My choice. My life. Who’ll stop me?
I smile and realize that it doesn’t matter. The journey is mine to take one step at a time. I can and will invite others to join me. I can and will help those I find along the way. I can and will take their help when it is offered to me. I can and will accept their friendship. Or love. Or smile. Or hand. For whatever time they are willing to give it to me. And I will feel blessed for having had that time when it is gone. I am happy to be on the journey. No matter the path.
I need to take a walk in the Labrynth!