I returned to the labyrinth. Finding myself with a day both more relaxed and more open in its hours before me, I chose to begin with some time for mindfulness.
I walked the twists and turns with purpose, quickly. Reveling in the sensation of movement and the challenges of the path. The morning sun rose just above the mountain's peak, and I inhaled deeply from its golden light. Inviting the warmth and glow inside of me.
I walk barefoot, my feet in contact with the textured cement surface, rough like a cat's tongue, feeling an appreciation for sensation and awareness. With my eyes half-closed in contentment and pleasure, I simply enjoy the motion through the morning. For the first bit, my thinking mind is still in place, sorting through the events of the morning drop off, planning ahead in a list of things to accomplish next. But by the third or fourth turn, I feel my mind ease.
With each twist, there is a new challenge, a moment of re-balancing, a shift of perspective. With each turn, I feel the push from the soles of my feet, and that slight second of falling, of being lost in space around the corner before my body catches me up and sends me in a new direction.
My first gift today was a donation for labyrinth upkeep. I hesitated only slightly, but then dropped $20 into the box. I know well enough that it can come back. It seemed for a second like a lot, maybe too much to give. I might need it later. But now I have given it, and I know that I will never miss it. It is simply absent from my wallet, leaving its friends in their place to take care of any needs that may arise today. And my gift has gone on its own path, to do its own good out in the world.
You know, this writing is a labyrinth too. With its shapes and forms, its twists and turns. Simply look at it. Feel the physicality of experiencing it. That's one reason why it is so attractive to a mind in search of restful balance.