From the stars, on a mountain, with the bears, my beads…and paint.
Liminal spaces.
The word space to me implies a spot, a location, a place. I’m reminded of the work Janet Conner and I have been doing with the labyrinth. If there is an actual liminal space, the center of the labyrinth is the perfect example.
Before we walk the labyrinth we draw our labyrinth. The magic begins with a seed pattern, simple angles and dots. We create our labyrinth with our “other” non-dominant hand and in the creation, the angles become circles. We’ve taken our square, organized, linear gotta-know seed pattern and turned it into a maze of circles.
When I walk the labyrinth I usually have a purpose. Am I looking for an answer?, usually. Am I wanting to meet an ally?, probably. That labyrinth walk can feel a bit lonely at times, so I call in my dead. Who will join me today? Anyone want to put on your shoes and walk with me? Will you hold my hand please? Someone always show up. Sometimes I have no purpose and walk the labyrinth with eyes of mystery, I call them my gypsy eyes, just wondering, what will be revealed, is there a message for me.
While walking toward the center things quiet. I remember I am breathing. The to-do list is put on the back-burner. Being in my imaginal realm I consider my footsteps. Am I walking upon yellow leaves, or sand? The concentric circles of the path get larger and smaller. Where am I? I have no idea, but I do know I’m not alone. She is with me. Creatures are with me. I can smell the moss that’s with me. Inevitably there’s a cat with me.
Once I arrive at the center I realize there are walls of earth and stone, seeds, water and usually a special raven. I’m not afraid, I’ve been here before. Any way I turn I’m surrounded, held, and safe. Then I look up. Up there is wide open deep indigo sky and millions of sparkling stars. Possibility. Mystery. So much time. No time. Every time. All time at once.
I am suspended like a tiny seed in this round space. It’s a very feminine spot. My instincts tell me this must be Her womb. The gestation chamber of the earth. Everything starts and stops right here. Everyone is born here and this is where we go when we die. The portal to e v e r y t h i n g.
The first time I met the labyrinth I was in a tomb in a dream in Sardinia. Womb to tomb. Womb to tomb.
Waiting, I look around. In reality, I am alone, and I am also surrounded by my ancestors and descendants, the plants that have fed me, the creatures who allowed me to look into their eyes, the rocks I carried down the path, the water that sustains me. My mind wanders until it is still. I drink in this stillness. Can I be filled with nothing? I want to bring enough stillness from this place with me so I can remember. I know after I emerge from the labyrinth, busy-ness reigns, but this still circular space that started as a square will care for me. This is how I care for myself. I remember.
It is time to retrace my steps and walk back out. I’m not sad to leave. I’m full, satisfied, and ready. And I know I will be back.