Ursula Le Guin and Labyrinth Wisdom

labyrinth2For Wild Nature Heart’s first winter retreat in the redwoods of Santa Cruz mountains, we specifically chose a site with a labyrinth.

We began our time together with an evening water ceremony and ended with a labyrinth walk at dawn on the final day, just as the sun was rising above the horizon. In between we shared dreams, council circle, singing, dancing, visioning, fire night, storytelling, and intention walks.

A labyrinth walk is a powerful and mysterious way to walk into the truth of what lives inside us, physically and soufully walking step by step in the non-linear way that informs all of life.

A labyrinth consists of a single path that leads from the outside to the center, in a circuitous way. Unlike a maze where there may be dead ends and you lose your way, the labyrinth is a soulful tool that can help you find your way. You arrive near the center and discover that you still have a long journey ahead. Similarly, you arrive towards the perimeter only to find that you are snaking your way deep within once again.

We find that what one finds in the labyrinth IMG_7187is what one carries in, but that it can open up what is there to be seen or heard in new and powerful ways, by quieting the mind, grounding the body, and opening the soul and heart. Stepping out of the walking meditation, one finds a new center. Or maybe it was the old one all along.

Shortly after our time on the land, we heard news that the world had lost one of the most brilliant, fierce, and compassionate writers, Ursula Le Guin.

Le Guin was not just a major voice in American fantasy fiction, but a voice for imagining deeply earth-centered and humane alternatives, exploring through her stories and essays themes about feminism, utopias, sexuality, gender, truth-telling, and societal mores.

Here we share one of Le Guin’s poem that also addresses a person’s unique voice, the creative spark, spinning the sacred thread that shows the way as she walks through the labyrinth of life.

I see her walking
On a path through a pathless forest
Or a maze, a labyrinth.
As she walks, she spins
And the fine threads fall behind her
following her way,
telling
where she is going
telling
where she has gone.
telling the story.
the line, the thread of voice,
the sentences saying the way.

(from “The Writer On, and At, Her Work”)

RIP Ursula, Earth Sorceress.

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