The Labyrinth at Vermont Witchcamp
By Angela Magara
I step onto the rock that marks the mouth of our labyrinth at Vermont Witchcamp. It lies before me, an interesting shape, folding and turning back upon itself. Ahead and behind are the other people in Earth path pacing the loops of its shape. I drop my consciousness from my head into my belly and step onto the path.
That summer, the labyrinth re-connected me with my body and its wisdom - my wisdom. The discovery I made, walking the labyrinth day after day, was that it and my body were having a conversation. I could not, with my mind, understand the language of the Earth. But as I walked my body understood. Each walk through the coils of the labyrinth empowered and enlivened me.
I came to understand that my wisdom lay in my body and in that body's open connection to the Earth body. It speaks through the countless cells of my body which hold the essence of the water and air, fire and earth which have formed this material manifestation throughout its existence. Walking the labyrinth, anchored in time and place, I can access that accumulated wisdom for my life, my art, and my community. Anchored and grounded, I can be admitted to the source of all I need.
Direct Action Labyrinths
by Rain
After a series of amazing experiences in the last six months I have come to the conclusion that every activist can use a labyrinth and the more of them we make the better off we will be.
Temporary labyrinths can be made anywhere. On the back of your hand, on asphalt with chalk, on grass with flour or cornmeal, in the sand with your hands. Pens, chalk and flour are readily available and much easier to explain to a cop than your athame. As a magical activism tool, labyrinths are easy to construct, can't be confiscated and make an immediate difference.
One of the biggest challenges we face as direct action activists is staying grounded and in the realm of the possible in the midst of police and other terrors. When we drew labyrinths in Seattle, both downtown before the action, and at an intersection during the protest, I could feel the energy shift, become more grounded. I could feel myself reconnect to the magical, to the possible, in the midst of tension and expectation. Each time a person walked the labyrinth, I could taste the change in the quality of the air, see the difference in the way we held our bodies, and hear the clarification in the tone of the singing. During these experiences, I did not think about the seven chakras. I walked to shift energy, to ground and connect, and got it every time.
On Earth Day a group of us drew a flour labyrinth in a San Francisco park. The labyrinth reaches across the dimensions and as I entered the labyrinth the world melted away, and yet I was deeply connected to land I had never walked, to which I had no previous relationship. We can use this tool to make a place for ourselves, and change that place wherever we are. So throw some chalk in your bag on the way to the next protest and build a labyrinth. You won't regret it.
Initiation
by Selchie
My first step on this path occurred four years ago at summer solstice. A group had gathered to prepare for the initiation of a friend's labyrinth. Mowed into the meadow on her land was the eleven-turn pattern of Chartres.
That afternoon we set candles at each turn to light our way that evening. As the harpist practiced a few tunes I took a practice walk. Circling until I felt called to enter, I immediately noticed the shift in energy. The journey through to the centre felt removed from time and place. There were moments when I was sure I was almost there, others when I wondered if I would ever arrive. I walked noticing these shifts in myself. I spent time in the middle allowing the feelings of centre and grounding to deepen.
Moving to the outward journey I slowly returned to the world outside the labyrinth. I had entered with a question and come out with so much more than an answer.
That evening I returned; excitedly anticipating the candlelight walk, wondering what this experience would hold. An amazing display of thunder and lightning made it unsafe to walk the labyrinth. Some returned the next night but I was not among them.
Since then I have had many opportunities to work with this magical tool. Large cloth labyrinths in both the eleven- and seven-turn patterns work well indoors. I was delighted upon arriving at Vermont Camp to find the labyrinth there.
I have also created lap labyrinths. With eyes closed and tracing with the index finger of my non-dominant hand, this is an excellent way to move into a meditative state. Each journey is unique and each the same, for I take my initiatory walk with me.
Nowhere Fast
by Beth Carlson
The Moon lights the icy Labyrinth's paths.
My boots kick broken shards of ice covered grass.
I hear the brittle skitter across the frozen expanse.
Help me find my way.
The labyrinth always brings me back to where I started.
Perhaps it is the Journey.
So They say.
There may be something, at least, in taking the time to go nowhere.
And I try, (this is the hard part), not to go nowhere too fast.
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