Labyrinth within the labyrinth

There are no shortcuts

Limited physical resources and impulsive behaviors that are more often rewarded complement each other surprisingly well.

It definitely feels like I am getting away with something when I spontaneously follow an inspiration and hours later see everything pull together into often quite useful and clever outcomes.

Ingenuity is a reward in itself. The frustration of myriad thwarted plans, the masses of unfinished projects, untouched specially purchased supplies and lack of ultimate usefulness, are buried deep in the shadow cast by a brilliant win.

The pandemic has meant that any impulsive project must be possible with only the materials I already have on hand. I don’t have the guilt associated with a trip to stores.

When I first fully understood what the experience of walking a labyrinth meant it was a big “huh ok”. It was both profound and obvious.

When walking a labyrinth you are not bound by any rules but the ones you hold yourself to.

At any time you could simply cross the lines on the ground instead of following the path.

Having the goal of the center in sight as the path heads seemingly straight there, then accepting when the path takes a sharp turn away from the center and out might be nothing in the scheme of the process. For me it’s a monumental metaphor for accepting life’s twists and turns.

There are no shortcuts.

Lost and found

Descriptions will never explain 2 days of my life last week. Some might comprehend volumes in these three words; I gave up.

Like many of my quirks that turned out to be adaptations that helped me survive, my determination to create a labyrinth in my backyard before solstice carried me past inner hell.

The irony of my giving up, couldn’t be more opposite to how I refused to quit trying to create that labyrinth.

I drew a design on paper from one I found online and set out with a few pieces of sidewalk chalk. Day one. I ran out of chalk. Pandemic means no going to stores for me. I racked my brain for what kind of materials I had that could be temporary.

Day 2; my husband unearthed a huge box of sidewalk chalk that somehow survived a move and the flood. I discovered the labyrinth would not fit in the space as I had drawn it.

Day 3; begin again with new color of chalk. It still doesn’t fit.

Day 4; finally tweaked the layout so it both fits and a person can fit on the path walking. Many measurements made and lines chalked in. It pours overnight.

Day 5; re drawing many lines, but acrylic over the central ones. It pours again.

Day 6; morning assessment discovers far left corner is too tight a fit to existing giant flower pot that can not be moved. Begin shifting everything.

Day 7; it really fits this time. Chalked lines on a grid from inside to outside. Rush to paint what can be painted. It pours.

I was in physical agony of the worst kind by day 5. The bending over to draw and paint not only hurt my back, the hanging over concentration pulls my jaw out of alignment. It seems insignificant in the face of meeting a self-imposed challenge.

This is what I am capable of

Every single time , at some point in walking the labyrinth I get impatient and find the task tedious.

The point of walking the labyrinth is never to get anywhere really it’s all about following the path. Often it is said that life is the journey not the destination.

The point of creating the labyrinth became to create it.

How things happen

Pandemic resourcefulness

No one bottle of paint had enough to cover all of the lines of the labyrinth.

In combining all the blues I had with all the greens I hoped to create enough paint.

The color created matched the color of the cap on my syrup bottle I used to mix them. Agave is also the name of a color.

Something about this struck me as a sign from the universe that it was all as it was meant to be.

Beyond today

Too often I lose sight and hope that I will have the garden sanctuary I feel so compelled to create.

Most of my fears revolve around my physical inabilities and my emotional challenges that lead to loss of interest and impetus.

I indulge my impulses to create spontaneously for many reasons, big among them is this fear of future incapacity. Who can plan, delay gratification and be patient when there is no guarantee the ability will be there when the time comes?

Planting seeds and plants sets me up to need to maintain them. I’ve seen what happens when my physical inability means no work in the garden. It’s devastating.

Perhaps my ability to overcome so much to create this labyrinth is meant to show me that fears must be put aside, opportunities must be taken when and how they can, and the doing of a thing can keep me going long after I have given up.

Published by J Kharey; Resilient Chameleon

I am The Resilient Chameleon. Mastering self-adaptation, reinvention and transformation, trying to fit my vast multi-passionate psyche into society's too small box, I missed something intrinsically important, the only truth we can live is our own. The only true path we can follow is the one our own soul knows. Insatiably curious, never content to not understand a life lived in paradoxes and consistently inconsistent, mine is not the sterile landscape; I find order in the chaos of wild plantings, patterns creating harmony, awe in the sacredness, the spice of surprise and the equanimity of synchronicity. In this Sanctuary you have many choices. Come join me on my journey and walk beside me for a while, explore with the eyes of a different perspective, or travel your own path. Together we can plant and nurture the seeds that allow our souls to flower. It is never too late to bloom.

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