labyrinths, walking, space

Today is wonderful. Putting up the labyrinth and watching others use and love it released all the tension from my body and soul, leaving me feeling cleansed, empty and peaceful. I love walking the labyrinth, but equally I love seeing how other people use it. Some rush through, barely stopping in the center before leaving again. Some are fighting to concentrate, but thier eyes search the room, avoiding eye contact. Some exaggerate each movement, turn thier walk into a dance, a performance. Some step gently and slowly, with great purpose, each step the same as the last. Some are playful, changing rhythms and speeds on a whim, seemingly wrapped in the sensation. And some are lost completely in thier heads. In everyone I see steps taken with care and awareness, sitting in the center people smile, grimace or relax completely (some even fall asleep). Interestingly, it is easy to see how deep an impression the labyrinth left on people by how the leave the room: those who let the door swing shut behind them have already left the labyrinth behind them, and those who close it gently and quietly are still somewhat lost in that greater awareness and thoughtfulness.
I started this post during the walk last week, and am finishing it after the last labyrinth walk of the year, but the experience of tending and walking the labyrinth always seems somewhat timeless. Last week a surrpise came around 8:30 when many people came to the labyrinth at the same time. At one point there were 10 people at once in the labyrinth, both coming and going, something that happened again this week with 8 people. In some moments the walkers were all somewhat congested on one side of the labyrinth. From the outside I could see the flow of people, seemingly random but in fact incredibly singular in thier paths. It was a model of a city, of our lifetimes and paths and thier separateness and interconnectedness as we walk. Some people did not like this crowded space- they seemed uncomfortable and distracted by the pressure of other's movements. Others seemed to embrace it, taking it as an opportunity to just be and move with others in the moment. When there wasn't enough space in the middle some went to sit by the fire to meditate, and then walked back out of the labyrinth upon finishing, while others, feeling rushed, started back without pausing. I felt like I was watching an intimate ritual steeped in prayer- not directive prayer but instead a recognition of the communal connection that we all have in common.
Many of my walks at Bowdoin have had this introspective, existential quality where I see my place in a whole, see myself and my loved ones with a greater love and perspective. My last walk at Bowdoin was different- a unique but hopefully not singular experience. Instead of contemplating, or examining my breath and movement, for the first time I just relaxed. I lost the awareness of walking, and yet I was still able to follow the path. Several times I looked up and realized I had no idea how I had gotten to the other side of the room. It felt like I was sleep walking, immersed in sensation without effort or control. This experience was easier for me to reach because of something that happened several nights ago. At 2am I went on a bike ride with a friend through the light rain. My glasses were continuously coated in mist, adding to the ghostlike visibility on the empty road. As we followed the endless road we left the streetlights behind us and suddenly it was difficult to tell if I was awake or dreaming- was I really on this dark road, with wet and cold hands and my glasses slipping down my nose? Or was I on an endless road, a path that seemed straight but was in fact just another section of labyrinth, sometimes invisible to my eyes with the occaisional glimpse through the mist? When I walked the labyrinth last night I had the same feeling of vertigo, of dissapation and immersion. I came out of the labyrinth struck dumb by the experience, relaxed and empty. This might be the first time I ever really emptied my mind without striving. Now that I've found that place- of relaxation and acceptance- i think i can find it again, something that makes me incredibly happy.