Spiraling Doesn’t Always Mean What You Think It Does

To the Center and back out again

Photo by Katie Burkhart on Unsplash

Last week, I was asked to write a personal narrative about my experience with walking the labyrinth for a Colorado magazine. It will be published in October. Here’s what I am working on.

Spiraling Doesn’t Always Mean What You Think It Does

The labyrinth is an ancient symbol of the spiritual journey, representing a spiral path of healing and pilgrimage that has resonated across cultures for thousands of years. In medieval Christianity, when pilgrims could not undertake the perilous journey to Jerusalem, walking a labyrinth—such as the renowned 13th-century design in Chartres Cathedral—offered a profound alternative for deep reflection, prayer, and the pursuit of forgiveness. Today, labyrinths remain powerful spiritual tools, with classical and medieval designs still widely embraced alongside new forms that continue to emerge.

My own journey with the labyrinth began decades ago in a small church in Shreveport, Louisiana, during a spiritual disciplines class. What started as a simple introduction blossomed into an annual birthday ritual—beginning each new year in reflection and prayer at a local labyrinth. This practice evolved into a tradition of seeking out labyrinths in any new city I visited. I never imagined that I would one day become a labyrinth facilitator, guiding others on sacred walks, yet the spiral path continued to reveal itself in ways I could not have anticipated.

When my husband and I retired to Loveland, Colorado, I was drawn to All Saints Episcopal Church, where synchronistically,  the congregation was exploring the creation of a labyrinth. Joining the Labyrinth Mission and Ministry Committee, I wasn’t sure what I had to offer as a retired actor and teacher, beyond my love and appreciation of the labyrinth. However, I trusted that the way would become clear, and soon found myself training as a labyrinth facilitator. We shared a dream of creating a community labyrinth modeled after the one at Chartres Cathedral, a vision brought to life by the tenacity of our committee chair, Cherry Laucher, and supported by our rector.

Having recently completed two years of studying the mystics and the contemplative path at Richard Rohr’s The Living School, I was attuned to listening for God’s direction. The timing of this labyrinth journey suddenly made perfect sense. In our church’s dining hall, where we temporarily taped the labyrinth pattern to the floor, we gradually introduced our congregation to the transformative power of walking the labyrinth. Together, we explored its many applications—for spiritual insight, discernment, healing, comfort, and forgiveness. We remained committed to creating a permanent outdoor labyrinth for the congregation and community.

This journey has profoundly enriched my spiritual life, challenging and comforting me in equal measure. I’ve been called to step into a more prominent role, becoming an advocate for the labyrinth as a spiritual discipline, and have been comforted by the gifts and graces received through this work alongside the Labyrinth Committee. Observing my evolution throughout this process has been both fascinating and fruitful. There has been a flow, an ease, and a reassurance from Spirit, urging me to create in new ways, listen deeply, collaborate, and trust that we are being led. On August 24, we blessed and dedicated our beautiful outdoor ADA-compliant community labyrinth.

The labyrinth ministry has become a source of profound joy and fulfillment. The meanders and rhythmic turns of the labyrinth empty the mind, relax the body, and refresh the spirit. It creates a sacred space for love and healing, offering a place where people can fully embody their experience. It weaves together creative contemplative practices and provides a way to listen to God, both individually and collectively. As a congregation, we have the opportunity to extend this sacred work to the larger community through workshops, facilitated walks, and the creation of rituals for healing, peace, prayer, and social justice.

Looking to the future, we envision supporting many people and groups through the labyrinth—those grieving, seeking self-reflection, navigating transitions, or healing their stories. The creative and spiritual applications are limitless. Facilitating labyrinth walks has revealed a deep yearning for community and shared experiences of healing and restoration, especially now. The labyrinth offers a beautiful pathway to meet that need.

Reflecting on earlier chapters of my life as an actor, where the focus was often on performance, I’ve learned through the labyrinth to flow, to dance with Spirit, and to trust the labyrinth to hold us all. One of the greatest blessings of this work is that it’s not about me; it’s about presence—being a God-bearer and holding sacred space within ourselves to share with others.

A story from my journal captures the personal significance of the labyrinth in my life. On the last day of my facilitator training, I returned to my church to walk our temporary labyrinth, feeling a palpable energy. As I walked, accompanied by the music of Hildegard of Bingen, I held many in my heart. Everything that happens in the labyrinth can be seen as a metaphor, and as I reached the center, I noticed a gentle movement above me. To my surprise, a "Happy Birthday" balloon floated upward, left over from a friend’s party the week before. Yet in that moment, it felt like a celebration of a new chapter—a recognition of something new being born, not just for me, but for the church and the community we serve.

As I continue this journey, I am grateful for the unfolding path before me. The labyrinth is more than just a physical space; it is a metaphor for life’s journey, with all its twists and turns, challenges, and comforts. It invites us to slow down, listen deeply, and trust that we are being led. As we walk into the future, I am eager to see where this winding way will take us, both as individuals and as a community. Each step creates more spaciousness for the Divine’s love, healing, and felt presence in our lives.

Credit for all photos: Tad Leeper

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3 THINGS WORTH SHARING:

1. Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott. My bestie gave me this book several years ago and I only read half of it and then somehow life became lifey and I didn’t finish it. Now it feels like the perfect time to pick it back up and start again. How much do we love, Anne? And Anne writing about writing? Gold

2. A soothing playlist. I received lots of inquiries about the playlist I compiled for the Community Labyrinth- Dedication Walk. I thought you might enjoy it as well.

This poem by Chuck Palahniuk.

Old George Orwell got it backward. 

Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed. 

He's making sure your imagination withers. Until it's as useful as your appendix. He's making sure your attention is always filled. 

And this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world.

How are you spending your leisure time? Is it high quality leisure or distraction? Are you constantly being filled, or can you step away to let go, to rest in the present?

Pondering these things with you,

xo Mary

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Disabled Resource Services Disabled Resource Services has a long and successful track record of working effectively with people who have disabilities in Loveland. For 46 years they have partnered with its clients to increase their independence and quality of life. DRS clients are a vulnerable population of underserved, elderly, and low-income residents, with about 97% living below poverty level and many unhoused. It does not charge for the services it provides.

© Mary Thoma 2024

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