windinthemaples

On Sunday morning, there was no mistaking the fact that it had shifted into autumn. I'd arrived, Friday afternoon, wishing I'd packed bug spray and shorts and now it was misty and cold and everywhere I was seeing the first glow of color on the changing leaves. The night before, walking to ritual, there had been something like diamonds winking from the dark grasses beside the path, little landbound fireflies sending a few more messages out into the night before the seasons turned. I had never seen anything so amazing in the natural world as those motionless, pulsing stars at my feet.

Others were awake before me, and everytime the cabin door by my headboard opened and hissed closed, a draft of damp, chilly air wafted over me and tempted me to abandon my warm bed. It finally succeeded. I got dressed, packed my things into my carry-on bags, and then took my camera out into the land one more time. Everything was cloaked in mist, still and quiet, restful and contemplative. All was well with me, truly well.

I walked the path up to the main house for breakfast. Someone had a deck of tarot cards out for a morning card draw with the question of, "What are you bringing home from Diana's Grove this weekend?". I drew the Five of Swords, or in this Celestial Tarot deck I was pulling from, the constellation Pegasus. Not sure what to make out of it, as it certainly didn't feel very comforting or welcome a gift to bring back from the Grove with me. :)

After a final session with my Circle of Support, the whole group got together for a fare-thee-well check-out. Everyone got a few minutes to share a memory from some time at the Grove in the past and a memory from this weekend in particular. I felt just overwhelming gratitude. The community there is extraordinary, the women who founded it inspirational, the commitments that people have made to keep it growing and vibrant remarkable. I am lucky to have found Diana's Grove while it existed in this incarnation, on this land. I can't help but wish I'd arrived sooner, somehow, that I'd been able to go through the leadership training programs, but that is small potatoes compared to the blessed sense of gratitude I was feeling. I loved every person in that room. My soul was perfectly content--at peace, at home.

After hugs and goodbyes and another delicious lunch, I had a few hours to myself before it was time for me to leave for the airport. The Grove got quieter as cars rumbled down the gravel roads and away. The bunks in our cabin were stripped, one by one. I decided to go and walk, by myself, the big labyrinth mown into the meadow. I have walked by that labyrinth so many times and never stepped in. I never really understood what, beyond a meditative aid, a labyrinth was meant to deliver. I overheard someone say that you must consider what you're looking for in the middle before you begin the walk, so I stopped on the threshold and considered what it was that I needed to find in the center of that winding coil. There was only one thing, and I didn't consider it to be related, at all, to my letter to Persephone. (Though I realize now, they very much were.)

I asked to find self-esteem. I took a breath and entered. Never having walked a labyrinth, I had no idea how long it would take, nor could I make sense of the turns and loops as I walked them. Would this path actually lead me back to the beginning? Would I know when I had reached the middle? I had no idea, really, so I just walked. And as I walked, I began to sing a chant I love,

Air, I Am
Fire, I Am
Water, Earth, and Spirit I Am.

Air, I Am
Fire, I Am
Water, Earth, and Spirit I Am.

It matched my steps well and I walked and walked and walked and watched the last straggler wildflowers and the purple-tipped prairie grasses and the overcast smoke-colored sky kaleidoscope around me. My chant changed, I changed the chant, and I was singing my way into the labyrinth.

I Am
I Am
I Am Greater Than.

I Am
I Am
I Am Greater Than.

I Am
I Am
I Am Greater Than.

I got to the center, suddenly, surprisingly, and all I wanted to do was lay down in the grass and watch the sky. I felt stillness, ease, contented quietude. I wasn't scrambling to get somewhere or do something. I wasn't trying to justify my choices or my existence. I had no plan or schedule. I just wanted to lay down and enjoy the stillness and so I did.

I rested awhile. It was a wonder to be somewhere that my mind wasn't a constant monologue. But I did hear the sound of the dogs racing down the hill and across the labyrinth. They didn't disturb me laying there, perhaps they didn't see me in the tall grasses. Perhaps they were waiting for something. When I finally got up and began my way back, though, one got square into my path and started barking like crazy. I don't know dogs, really, so it was discomforting to be so confronted by such a big, loud dog. I continued forward and the dog let me pass but then circled back into my path and set up the barking road block again. This happened over and over again and I kept having to just walk square at it. I wanted to finish that labyrinth and I wasn't going to let my discomfort with that dog push me into breaking the paths and taking the shortest route away. Other dogs joined in and then they were romping and fighting and wrestling and growling and barking and yelping and streaking back and forth across the paths making one helluva ruckus. I kept going. I gave some thought to what I'd do if one of them attacked me, but I kept going. :)

The minute I was out of the labyrinth, they left me alone and went off to do their own doggy things.

By now, most everyone had gone. My ride to the airport, Raven, was almost done with her staff meeting, so I took a few minutes to go say goodbye to the barn where our Friday night ritual had been held. A fence-jumping beagle was sleeping on one of the pews but otherwise it was empty and still holding the ghost of several rituals I've experienced and the energy from countless more I wasn't here to see. So much history, so much heart, so much goodness in just one spot.