Just as and the Blue Mountains turned into the fresh and misty wonderland that it is famous for, the Leura Brahma Kumaris Retreat Center hosted a three day Labyrinth building workshop.

By advertising the event only through their website, it drew together a team of people who were previously unknown to one another. However, through a series of creative and intuitive activities we found that each person had an uncanny connection to at least a couple of other members within the group. So began an exploration of the webs we maintained, and the paths we had followed in order to arrive at that specific place in time.

Facilitated by the gentle and enigmatic Hedy Sussman (once a resident of the Center) we were asked to silently walk amongst one another and with a soft gaze acknowledge every person we passed. We then had to remember the person or people who, for whatever reason, we instinctively felt a connection to, and go stand next to them. It was a fascinating process. Pods began to form, and those who did not connect were asked to form a group of their own.

An hour was spent sharing our personal interests, life challenges and hopes for the future. The woman who I was immediately drawn to, and amazingly she to I, revealed that she had a son who was very ill and wanted explore alternative therapies to complement the treatment he yet to experience. I mentioned that I’d just completed my Reiki III Master training and had spent time as a massage therapist in previous years. She was petite and faerie-like and reminded me of my favorite character, Morgaine from Marrion Zimmer Bradley's classic novel, The Mists of Avalon, a book she knew well. 

Another man in his late fifties who joined our the ‘pod’ was a retiring engineer (just like my father) who went on to give me some amazing insight into the apprehension my father had been feeling in recent times. Individual stories suddenly emerged to have more significance than they may have outside of the workshop, and yet in that example it became clear that with the right intent, every person we encountered in life had the potential to share with us some meaningful insight.

It was difficult to sleep that first night, and I lay in my room wondering about all the stories contained in all the people I knew, let alone those I didn’t. A labyrinthine pattern was forming itself in my mind even before we had begun to build a physical one. All of us were on the path consecutively either going deeper inward, or moving back out into the world with new insight, expanding or contracting in our ability to relate to one another.

The following morning, as we wandered to the hut built by the late architect, Walter Burley Griffin, a natural silence overcame the group. Though I was busting to talk to more people, I could feel that we were entering something reverent. My thoughts stilled as we stood in the clearing behind the hut and were guided to collaborate, still in silence, using what we could find from our natural bush land surrounds to construct a simple labyrinthine path.

Without an image to guide us, nor a detailed description of what a labyrinth actually was, the shape quickly took form as sticks were twisted into the ground, leaves were swept from the path and bark was used to define the parameter. Ribbons, beads and other trinkets were then produced, woven from marker to marker and decorated with banksia pods, crimson leaves, soft feathers and stained glass baubles. Without verbal negotiation or the need for diplomacy, people’s intuitive faculties seemed to take over. As one held a stick in place, another secured a ribbon or offered a particularly beautiful bundle of soft swaying grass as a feature. Each point along the path became a tiny shrine, a soft sculpture. In approximately one hour the structure was complete.

To the subjective eye our labyrinth might have appeared gaudy. To the newly initiated it was hallowed ground. And so the weekend that followed was full of experimentation, creativity and introspection.

As we were encouraged to walk the labyrinth in an unselfconscious but mindful state, it became clear that the labyrinth was more than just a symbol. Participants could feel the way in which an archetype of this nature could “meet you where you are… give you what you need… and nurture an invisible thread that could be traced throughout all of humanity”[1].

At first I was hesitant to walk the labyrinth myself, preferring to observe the reactions of my new friends. I rested with my journal and noted: “A teenage boy walks with his arms by his sides, hands extended like small radars, dowsing with his body. He stops intermittently and moves his arms around feeling the subtle changes with each step… A girl walks ten meters into the course and stops still. Hands in pockets, her beautiful face relaxes, crumbles, and big cathartic tears fall off her cheeks to consecrate the ground… Another man stops his journey beside a tree and leans into it, wrapping an arm around the trunk. He looks like a sailor hanging onto the mast in rough seas . . .”  

Methods of walking the path varied dramatically. One woman took ‘lollipop steps,’ heel to toe the whole way around. A middle aged man found a sturdy flat piece of bark and on hands and knees swept every fallen leaf from the path as he went. Some strode rhythmically just as Buddhist monks practice their walking meditation. One woman, who was visually impaired, felt her way around the inside of the parameter, stopping only explore with her hands the tiny shrines along the way. This inspired others to close their eyes and also go by feel.

Having spent the time watching the individual personalities at play, I waited until everyone had gone to lunch and walked the path alone in the sunshine with a perpetual grin on my face. I was on my way home. I finally had a sense of what I wanted to do for the rest of my days (I later completed my celebrancy training, and enrolled in the New Seminary for Interfaith Ministry.)                    

On the second day, eager to create a more celebratory atmosphere, we moved into small groups and choreographed our own performances in honor of the labyrinth. There was voice percussion, dance, ritual, poetry recital, myth re-enactment and meditation. In a completely supportive environment we surprised ourselves with what we were able to share.

Even when the time came to dismantle our Labyrinth, the ephemeral nature of this temporary one could not been diminished. The sense of love, joy and friendship that was experienced in that small corner of the Brahma Kumaris center will long render the space as sacred.


The following journal excerpts have been included with permission from Christine and Ian 

In the ‘Mist of Fever’ twice I experienced myself walking a Labyrinth.
The Path was wide and undulating.
Large trees and boulders (elders) formed the boundary.
Often Shrubs and rocks hid or appeared to block the path.
This caused me to stop, be still, to watch and listen.
Then, the same shrubs or rocks revealed the path and I continued my journey.
One morning I woke to find myself above the Labyrinth and realized I was suspended above the entire landmass of Australia.
I realized the Labyrinth is the Land.
The classic symbol of the Labyrinth is from another time and I feel we are to design and build another.
A new dimension of Labyrinth is waiting for expression.
I think we / I (?) need time walking barefoot and in silence on the earth to allow the imprint to come through us… foot-first up and into the divine matrix of the designing brain…

This has been a BIG year for me in terms of an understanding of how things really are, and my place in all that. I am finding expression in words very limiting now, with a lot of direct feelings happening for me... increasingly non-verbal. Hedy's little experiment of us building the first labyrinth revealed how the limitation of words and language can create immediate difficulties because of the ambiguities. I think we should do more experimenting with silence each day, not just at 'workshops'.

The labyrinth 'discovery' has been like revealing ‘the path’ with its unknown twists and turns. I am seeing that there is a structure, purpose and context for everything. It’s a big test of your faith and trust if you don't have the 'helicopter view.' Being both inside AND outside myself at will, has been my greatest achievement this year. I began to have that feeling before being exposed the elegance of the labyrinth, but when I experienced it, it fitted in perfectly. ... and just at the right time! I don't think the labyrinth itself is capable of communicating its message, in the sense of its greatest meaning, unless you are ready for it, and I was.

As an engineer, I love the precision and truth of the labyrinth’s geometric construct ... no words, and yet instantly you get its meaning. But again, only if you are ready to receive it.

I expect labyrinths will be 'sticky' to me from this point forward, because of their usefulness and their powerful communicating ability. So many people are desperately trying to survive themselves and their own limitations  -  their habits, their history, their emotional baggage - and trying to play out the present and the future with this incredibly limited palette of 'tools' ie. thinking and feeling.

My recent experience of being able to open myself to more 'flow', and putting aside the habits and limitations of my past strategies, has been breathtaking, as new ideas, insights and views appear. It takes me much closer to living in the 'now' and with fresh, imaginative, thoughtful, hopefully loving responses to each situation as it arises.

In that sense all labyrinths have sort of become transparent to me now, and I feel I can position myself anywhere inside or outside the one of my current consciousness. It’s become sort of like a roadmap - where am I? Inside? Outside? Separated? Totally integrated with things? It’s like having a very powerful and flexible 'gearbox' where I can choose the speed and power appropriate for the situation. I no longer feel like a victim of my prior circumstances or previous history.