Today my mother and I went to Grace Cathedral and walked the labyrinth. Strange, I've been hearing about this labyrinth for over a year, and honestly, I always pictured that crazy garden maze from The Shining (right, the least chill thought you can have--as we all remember Jack Nicholson chases Shelley Duvall through the narrow snow-heaped paths--badang, who could sit still watching that). And no, we will not be disussing the fab Jim Henson flick con David Bowie beyond acknowledging that movie's greatness....But then, my mother always told me what an amazing experience she had walking the labyrinth at Grace Cathedral. The recent death of our 16-year-old yellow lab Bandy (originally knighted as Bandy the Rodeo Clown, then Shosh, then Shosh of Life or Shosh Keppi--is it a Jewish thing to give your dog names like this?) was a formative factor in her experience of the labyrinth for sure. My mother worshipped Shosh of Life, and yes, he worshipped her, but that's another story. All you need to know is that my mother was very upset about his death, found herself in Grace Cathedral about a year ago and decided she would walk the labyrinth. Within moments after her entrance onto the winding course, she began to cry, and by the time she reached the center, she had to sit down because she was sobbing. She said Bandy had come to her while she was walking. It was an amazing experience-- she felt so peaceful after-- it was this intense catharsis (fuckin love the word catharsis). My mother explained that there were other people walking the labyrinth with her that day, and they gave her a funny look or two when they saw her sobbing in the center, but mind you, I pictured the labyrinth as this football field-sized maze--she had not told me that it was indoors, and I'm American, so I guess I'm predisposed to think that greater holiness is reflected in greater size. A person sobbing in one corner of this vast construct did not seem like a big deal, not something many would notice, probably something that happened quite often, perhaps in the same way people feel overwhelmed, swallowed by the vastness of this universe, etc. when they look out at the ocean and can't see its end.

Needless to say, I was surprised to find the labyrinth my mother had raved about to be a large rug, ok, labyrinth floor tapestry. I'm not trying to show off or anything. Because I had a very intense experience todayl strolling along on the labyrinth floor tapestry, but I'm trying to be honest about my initial reaction, which was 1. This is the fuckin labyrinth you've been talking about for the last year and 2. Dang, can't believe you were just sitting, sobbing in the middle of this rug with all of these people walking around you. That's bad-ass (I am my mother's daughter). According to the Grace Cathedral information pamphlet, "The ancient practice of walking the labyrinth in a church setting was revived here in 1991. The single-path design represents the journey of the soul, and is walked for spiritual insight and healing." Before I go any further, another point I want to bring up: We were in a Church. We're jews. Yesterday was Yom Kippur. We didn't fast. We practiced yoga, which felt much more spiritual to me than anything I felt at my old synagogue stomping ground, Washington Hebrew. Bam. Just wanted to put that out there. So journey of the soul, spiritual insight. Why today, you might ask, did I decide I needed to do this. Let me tell you a little story called My Name is Sarah, Had Major Breakup, Quit My Job , Met Someone I Didn't Want to Leave and Moved to San Francisco--aka: I'm Unemployed, Don't Have Set Housing...Bring Me to the Labyrinth.

Another thing about yesterday--it was raining, which made walking the labyrinth seem all the more appropriate. Who doesn't like to do something a little dramatic when it's raining? In some ways, I found walking the labyrinth presented challenges similar to those I encounter when practicing yoga. Not that you shouldn't have thoughts about external considerations while walking the labyrinth. But I feel like the ultimate goal is to be completely present while you're walking, not exerting thinking power beyond firing the nuerons necessary to put one foot in front of the other, just feeling the calm that comes from walking a clearly marked winding path at the front of a majestic cathedral. But, it's hard for your brain not to go other places, especially when you're walking in silence. You start thinking about what you're having for dinner (burrito?), wonder how much more winding there wil be before you reach the center, consider how much time you will spend meditating or just processing the experience in the center.

I felt vulnerable in the center. There was nothing more to do than just be there, and that's something we are conditioned to feel uncomfortable with as human beings. But then, you want to spend some time in the center--you just wound around that whole freaking sepentine path to make it here, and while you're here you will fucking meditate (peacefully). Sometimes I step outside of my head, watching my thoughts about being present and wonder if I'm sort of yoga-brain-washed. I think I should tell all of these peaceful thoughts that make so much sense to me to just shut the fuck up. Of course, when I put it like that (which is how I put it), it seems ridiculous to tell something serene to shut the fuck up. Anyhow, as I was walking , I took covert glances over at my mother to see how she was faring--I was waiting for her to start crying, which would probably lead to me crying. She seemed fine. Not happy. Not sad. Centered. I wondered what she saw when she took covert glances at me.

There were other people walking the labyrinth with us, which required some awkward side-stepping to avoid head-on collisions. I was annoyed at first. In my head: If you walk on the fucking path and don't skip any parts, we wouldn't have these near run-ins. Once I saw that thought, I realized I was pretty far away from the peaceful place I was trying to visit. I decided to drop the thought, decided I wouldn't think fuck or any of its other part of speech variations. Found myself doing a bit of blank-brain walking, that is, until I realized I was doing blank-brain walking--that's the fuck of meditation right? Once you realize you're doing it, you're not doing it.

I got to the center, closed my eyes, became conscious that my gum had lost its flavor, forgot I was chewing gum. Saw the murky dark space behind my eyes expand and contract, rippling at the edges, wondering if falling into my mind's space completely would cause me to physically fall over. Opened my eyse and my mother smiled at me. I looked up and could see that the edge of the tapestry was about ten steps away, straight-shot, but began walking the winding course back out. Spaced out for a while and then my mother motioned to me that I had gotten off the path, was about to run into someone. Wondered if the potential run-in candidate was thinking, "Stick to the fucking path and you won't run into anyone." That can't be the lesson of the labyrinth. Hmmm. We're all at different spots on the same path. Sometimes we fall off and interrupt eachother's course? I will go back. You should check it out.