Labyrinth Walk

“To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come 'round right.”

 ---from Simple Gifts, an 1848 American Shaker song.

Twenty seconds. Four good breaths.

The speed of light travels across miles.

The speed of presence is measured by pause.

A silent bell is tolling, bidding you to enter,

bidding you to be in your body, to be here now, 

to become stillness while moving.

This isn’t a conjuring. It’s an uncluttering of accretion,

a recollection of what sits at the center of things, waiting

until we can get there again.

We don’t summon God. We summon ourselves, 

the bruises in our hidden chambers,

the honest voices inside us asking questions, 

the unlived loves lost in urgency of trying 

to escape the dark.

Be in your body. Be here now.

Be stillness while moving.

Let silence fill you up again, turn after turn, 

until the unseeable becomes solid pinpricks 

of incandescence showing you that wisdom 

is mostly gathered at an unexalted end of the road

on the way to offer blessings.