Labyrinth Walk - say you'll follow me

It was dusk and I worried that maybe I'd not have enough time to fully experience it. But I'd been here once before and made similar excuses. Why was I so hesitant? I was so full of all the things this experience "should" be and all the things this labyrinth "ought" to do for me that there wouldn't be much room for the experience to just be what it was going to be. Am I going to blog about this? Won't taking pictures negate the sacredness? Will openly writing about it tarnish the spiritual nature? On and on and on went my analytical wanderings. I had confessed to Syl, my yogi mentor that created this mystical labyrinth in her backyard, my tendency to over-analyze. I told her I wanted to be free to walk the labyrinth without expectation. She chuckled and said something like, "No need to worry about that, the labyrinth is designed to challenge that very thing. You'll want to go one way and it'll take you exactly the opposite. Just don't fight it. It's not a maze where you have to choose a path. Trust where it takes you." So here at the entrance, I removed my shoes and did my yoga: Inhale, let it gather up all those "shoulds" and "oughts" and "have to-s", exhale. My walking prayer began.

There's something to be said about trust. I would find myself so close to the center, separated only by one little row of stones. The tall grass was tickling my skin as I brushed by it, closer than I'd ever been, until the path turned. One might think, I'm going the wrong way. Trust. No, this is good. Sometimes you have to have your back on the target, you know what I mean? Then, I'm walking along the perimeter, feeling so far away from it all. One sharp turn. I'm there. What? How can that be? Just moments ago I was...over there...I was...alone, drifting. So far, and yet so close.

Standing in the center, wanting to lift off the ground, I think I did. I didn't know that holding so much could feel so light.

It was time to step out. I stood at the exit, which had only moments before been the entrance. Now it was my turn to chuckle. You mean I have to come out the way I just came in? The answer settled upon me, "The path is the same, but you're different." So is the path really the same anymore? Hello paradox.

I was smiling and happy, taking my time with each step, winding my way out. First I was singing in my head. Soon I was humming. Then all at once I was singing out loud and proud:

"It's by far the hardest thing I've ever done

To be so in love with you and so alone

Follow me where I go, what I do, who I know

Make it part of you to be a part of me

Follow me up and down all the way and all around

Take my hand and say you'll follow me"

Where was this coming from? Why now, John? The words just kept coming:

"It's long been on my mind you know it's been a long, long time

I'll try to find the way that I can make you understand

The way I feel about you and just how much I need you

To be there where I can talk to you when there's no one else around

Follow me where I go what I do, who I know

Make it part of you to be a part of me

Follow me up and down all the way and all around

Take my hand and say you'll follow me"

And by this point, I said aloud, "I hear you!":

You see, I'd like to share my life with you and show you things I've seen

Places that I'm going to places where I've been

To have you there beside me and never be alone

And all the time that you're with me then we will be at home

Follow me where I go what I do, who I know

Make it part of you to be a part of me

Follow me up and down all the way...

Take my hand and I will follow you"

--John Denver, "Follow Me"

It was a mediocre experience. It was a sublime, ineffable experience. I suppose I'm leaning on Dickens a bit there. I mean to say that the act of walking the labyrinth in and of itself is a very simple, seemingly mindless activity (if you're willing to turn down the analyze slide bar). Yet, within that simple act, something truly miraculous opens up within you. I don't mean to ascribe too much "power" to the labyrinth itself. I don't see it as a magical panacea that absolves all worldly strife and takes you in a straight shot to nirvana. But in another sense, it's like this magical panacea that absolves all worldly strife and takes you in a straight shot to nirvana...at least for a little while. You get to taste it. And return to it as often as you'd like. It's as magical and mystical as prayer is, for the labyrinth is truly a walking prayer wheel. Prayer in and of itself is powerful, but match that with pure intention and that's when you achieve the sublime and ineffable.

P.S. Just for fun, click play below.

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The Cosmic Serpent

Have you seen that mysterious snake around? He's hiding everywhere. He's a renowned world traveler--you might even say he's cosmic. He's certainly multi-lingual and has a hard time settling in just one place. It's possible he's a proficient time-traveler, but more than likely he's just really, really old. I mean it, he's been around since Adam and Eve. Well, actually, long before that. I would guess it all started with that famous BANG everyone is talking about. Is he a good guy? A bad guy? He's not really a "guy" at all. He--she--it?

I recently read Jeremy Narby's The Cosmic Serpent and I confess, synapses were firing like the fourth of July. But what is the cosmic serpent? Amazonian shamans would say that the cosmic serpent is the creature that appears to you in your ayahuasca-induced hallucinations that imparts sacred healing wisdom. Through this thought-provoking, faith-promoting book, the author explores, through years of research and documentation, that the cosmic serpent might very well be DNA itself. In his own words, Narby states (1998), "I could see now that there might be links between science and shamanic, spiritual and mythological traditions, that seemed to have gone unnoticed, doubtless because of the fragmentation of Western knowledge." (p. 77)

If that premise isn't already wild enough, the ride gets really wild when he begins finding this serpent all across the globe, in diverse cultures, languages, and times. First with Peruvian shamans, then in Jacob's vision of the ladder ascending up to heaven, the serpent that tempted Eve, the Rainbow Snake drawn by Australian Aborigines, ancient Egyptian drawings, Typhon of Greek mythology, the fish-bird of Chuang-Tzu, Sesha the thousand-headed serpent of Hinduism, and even the caduceus of yin-yang and the western medicine symbol. In essence Narby's message is that "the same reality is being described from different perspectives." (p. 102)

Yin-Yang caduceus

Western medicine caduceus

                               

Perhaps unintentionally, and to my great disappointment, no specific mention was made of the chakra system first discovered by ancient Hindus over 4,000 years ago. The parallels are poignant and thrilling. The Ida and Pingala nadis directly represent the twin serpents that spiral upward, creating the caduceus itself, which Narby eloquently points out happens to be just like the double helix of DNA. The feminine energy known as kundalini lies coiled at the base of the spine until awakened when it then travels upward, purifying everything in its path. Remarkably, kundalini energy is most commonly represented as a snake. This illustration below overlays these two traditions of east and west, the ancient chakra/kundalini system and the western symbol of medicine (which was originally an eastern symbol, first seen in India, later in Greece, and now here in the west). These two seemingly opposing systems of medicine, through Narby's groundbreaking hypothesis, are now intimately connected by, you guessed it, the Cosmic Serpent--our DNA.

East meets West

After completion of his book The Cosmic Serpent Jeremy Narby was lecturing to a group of students in Peru, sharing his hypothesis that the entwined serpents that Amazonian shamans see in their visions and the double helix of DNA are intimately related, a student in the back of the room  called out, "Are you saying that scientists are catching up with us?" (p. 151) What we sometimes think are opposite ends of a linear spectrum are really just different spokes in the same wheel. They are anecdotal truths that each culture expresses through their own language. For ancient India, they spoke of healing through the chakra system, for Amazonian shamans they spoke of healing through ayahuasca and the entwined serpents, for the modern Western world healing is spoken of through the lens of science and DNA. Or do we even speak of healing here in the West? Despite what we do know about DNA it seems we're just as vulnerable as Eve in Eden. We fall into the same trap of "the devil made me do it" by believing that we are victims of our DNA. "We can't change the code" is the modern way of saying "the devil made me do it". It's when all the diverse fragments of the Cosmic Serpent combine once again, when we piece together all the different stories, myths, facts, and clues of history--then we'll see the big picture. Then healing can happen.


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Habit or Ritual?

I've been giving some serious thought to two words that get thrown around frequently in the English language. Sometimes they're used interchangeably, but not wisely so. I don't mean to imply that one of these words is "good" and one is "bad", but simply that they each have their place in our lives. What are these words I'm alluding to? Habit and ritual. 

Miriam Webster defines habit as:

a :  a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance

b :  an acquired mode of behavior that has become nearly or completely involuntary <got up early from force of habit>

c :  addiction <a drug habit>

This naturally sets me to thinking, what are some habits that I have in my life? What are some behaviors that I've acquired simply out of repetition, that I do involuntarily...that I'm addicted to? Well, I can think of some examples, some pleasant ones, some unpleasant ones. Can impatience be a habit? I started practicing impatience so long ago that I've become quite proficient at it. How about the way I load the dishwasher? I know exactly where to put the cheese grater and the pot lids and the bread knife without even batting an eye. Making sure all the curtains are drawn, the doors are locked, and the closet doors are closed before I settle into bed. That's a serious habit of mine.

So what is this other word ritual all about? Ritual is defined as:

a :  ritual observance; specifically :  a system of rites

b :  a ceremonial act or action

c :  an act or series of acts regularly repeated in a set precise manner

One of my favorite rituals? Brushing my teeth. Some might say that's a habit, but there is some level of ceremony involved. I don't just do it involuntarily, I consciously choose every night to walk into the bathroom and squeeze just the perfect amount of minty calmness onto the brush, lather up my pearly-somewhat-whites and stare at myself in the mirror. 

That's the difference. We might do something out of habit for the simple sake that it's a habit. When we participate in a ritual, we do it for the benefits it brings and not for the sake of the ritual itself. Because the minute you find you're doing it for the sake of the ritual and not for the benefits, you've just demoted it to a habit. Brushing my teeth in and of itself isn't all that meaningful, but because It plays a major role in my overall night's rest it becomes a nightly ritual. 

Punchline? Have you, like me, ever let your rituals turn into mere habits? Prayer, yoga, kisses, eating, going to church, reciting the pledge of allegiance...even breathing? Let's reclaim them. There are lots of theories out there about how to create habits. The most popular theory is that if you keep it up for twenty-one days--viola--it's a habit. Maybe. But here the goal is to transform a habit of something into a ritual. In that case the hardest part is already done. You've got the repetition down. Now just add a dash of sincerity, a pinch of intention, and a dollop of gratitude...you'll be well on your way.

Someone I greatly admire (that's you mom) once taught me that the word ritual is contained within the word spiritual. That's either the craziest coincidence of all time or there's a deeper message. Let's do the math: Habit + Spirit =  Sacred Ritual

Now turn off the computer and go kiss someone you love, say a heartfelt prayer, breathe in the glorious oxygen that gives you yet another moment to be alive, or heck, just brush your teeth. I swear, you'll never be the same.



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