The labyrinth is a mandala that meets our longing for a change of heart, for a change of ways in how we live together on this fragile island home, and for the energy, the vision, and the courage to meet the challenges of the 21st century.
— Lauren Artress from Walking a Sacred Path: Rediscovering the Labyrinth as a Spiritual Practice
Stand by the roads and look
And ask for ancient paths,
Where the good way is,
And walk in it, and find rest
For your souls.
— Jermiah, 6:16
Within the circles of our lives
we dance the circles of the years,
the circles of the seasons
within the circles of the years,
the cycles of the moon
within the circles of the seasons,
the circles of our reasons
within the cycles of the moon.
Again, again we come and go,
changed, changing. Hands
join, unjoin in love and fear,
grief and joy. The circles turn,
each giving into each, into all.
Only music keeps us here,
each by all the others held.
In the hold of hands and eyes
we turn in pairs, that joining
joining each to all again.
And then we turn aside, alone,
out of the sunlight gone
into the darker circles of return.
— Wendell Berry from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry
For the human spirit caught within a spinning universe in an ever confusing flow of events, circumstance and inner turmoil, to seek truth has always been to seek the invariable, whether it is called Ideas, Forms, Archetypes, Numbers or Gods. To enter a temple constructed wholly of invariable geometric proportions is to enter and abode of eternal truth.
— Robert Lawlor from Sacred Geometry: Philosophy & Practice (Art and Imagination)
Walking, ideally, is a state in which the mind, the body, and the world are aligned, as though they were three characters finally in conversation together, three notes suddenly making a chord. Walking allows us to be in our bodies and in the world without being made busy by them. It leaves us free to think without being wholly lost in our thoughts … The rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and the passage through a landscape echoes or stimulates the passage through a series of thoughts. This creates an odd consonance between internal and external passage, one that suggests that the mind is also a landscape of sorts and that walking is one way to traverse it. A new thought often seems like a feature of the landscape that was there all along, as though thinking were traveling rather than making. And so one aspect of the history of walking is the history of thinking made concrete — for the motions of the mind cannot be traced, but those of the feet can.
— Rebecca Solnit from Wanderlust: A History of Walking
A thread is all we need… one golden thread that takes us to the center of our being where we wind around to the flower-lotus, the sacred honey that spills from the well where time begins and ends as we simultaneously wind our way back out to greet the mornings of our evenings.
— Lea Goode-Harris, author of Ladybug Labyrinth: A Journey Home