Last evening I walked the labyrinth at St. Luke's Church in Ottawa. It was an incredible experience in itself. But, it also put me in touch again with the 'both-and' of life. What do I mean by 'both-and'? In my last post, I promised to elaborate. For me, I understand the notion in a narrative way. In part, this is because I was introduced to 'both-and' thinking through the work of Paul Ricoeur. However, I have also heard similar descriptions. For example, the other day while listening to the radio, a young singer/songwriter spoke about the distinction between the romantic idea of being a singer/songwriter and the reality. He described the reality in terms of practice, which involves both structure and creativity.
Narrative, or story, involves a combination of structure and creativity, and on many levels. But, I won't get into all of the complexities here. For now, I'd simply like to remind how the structures of genre and sentences shape each author's creativity in story-telling. The same structures (more or less) can be used by everyone, over and over again, to tell any number of unique stories. For example, "Once upon a time..." indicates to listeners/readers what kind of story to expect. The fairy-tale genre also implies an expectation of a "happily ever-after" ending. Since the structure and creativity of stories also involves listeners/readers, the hyphen in the space between 'both-and' is the many interpretations that the same story might evoke.
How is the labyrinth a 'both-and' experience, involving structure, creativity, and interpretation? Well, first of all the structure of the labyrinth is an ancient pre-Christian pattern. It has been discovered in many places throughout the world, often carved into rock. In the Christian tradition, the pattern appears in the tiles on the floors of medieval churches, such as the most famous one in Chartres, France, or more recently, constructed in fields with rocks or sculpted out of hedges of grass. At St. Luke's, the labyrinth is drawn into the concrete floor of the church.
Although there are several different variations on the pattern, an important aspect of the structure of all labyrinths distinguishes them from mazes. One cannot get lost in a labyrinth, nor is it a puzzle to figure out. Therefore, one need not think too much when walking a labyrinth, the experience is enough.
Experience brings us to the creative aspect of the labyrinth, which involves the unique journey undertaken by each one. Walking the labyrinth is not a mechanical, repetitive experience. It is akin to the experience of one's life journey, with lots of twists and turns, pauses along the way, encounters with and making space for others, etc. Even though we brush shoulders with many others every day, no one experiences life in quite the same way. Neither is one life the same each day. Similarly, each person enters the labyrinth with a particular intention, unique and known only to them, and each time one walks the labyrinth it is a new experience.
Finally, experience brings us to the interpretative part of walking the labyrinth. Some of the offerings I received include insights into non-dualism, journey, and Alpha/Omega:
- Non-dualism. By this I mean that difference is not hierarchical (either-or) in a labyrinth. Although each one enters at a different moment in time, once inside it is impossible to distinguish who is first and last, or who is more or less advanced along the way. These categories find no place in a labyrinth. Each one is walking their unique journey together with all the others.
- Journey. Although the labyrinth is not a puzzle, it's turns do not allow one to perceive where they are on the journey. The focus is not on the beginning or end, but the unfolding of a process. This helps to slow one down and to ground one in the present moment. However, there is also a beginning and an end.
- Alpha/Omega (beginning/end). One enters the labyrinth in a certain moment in time. Upon reaching the center, it becomes obvious that the journey begun is not complete. The centre, which at first appears to be the end goal, is actually a space for pause. One pauses at the centre to receive and to give. Then one turns, in a renewed way, to continue the journey back to the reality of where one began. The end is also the beginning. This is because the journey between beginning and end is never complete, and each one is always in process of learning and becoming a new person.
So, that is my description today of the 'both-and-ness' of life as learned through narrative and the labyrinth! My thanks goes out to Veena and to India. Without either, my life journey would not have brought me to St. Luke's labyrinth, at least not in this way.
Expression through writing is a spiritual activity. It can be spiritual in at least two ways. First, writing can be a way of connecting with God at the inner core of our being. Anyone who journals, writes poetry, novels, history, philosophical musings, or creates in any way, knows to what I am referring. Some call it our authentic or true self, or even 'being in a zone.' In Christian terms, writing can help us access God-in-us. We and others marvel at the beauty and brilliance of whatever it is that we create. But there is more to marvel at than our product! Creativity connects us with something even more basic; that is, our life as human expressions of God. In other words, our capacity for writing and other forms of creativity (pottery-making, singing, dancing, drawing, painting, baking, carving, sports...) point, not only to the products of our creativity, but more amazingly they point beyond us to God and the whole universe of energy that continues to create. We are called to be human expressions of that energy in everything we do. My prayer for this week is inspired by a quote from St. Iraneus: to be the glory of God as a human being fully alive! 
