a hundred degrees

Petal Edges

Earlier this month (June 4) I took a little time to walk to the back of the church property and walk the labyrinth. In the center of the pattern is a circular area that is meant to have a flower design with some rounded petals touching the center circle. At the time, there were only short lines of rock noting where the edges of the petals were to be. So rather than feeling I should take time in each of the petals I was more naturally drawn to see where the lines were pointing.

The first line I went to was directly across from the path entrance to the inner circle. I looked up and saw into the neighboring property and found I was looking a personal watercraft. I laughed and jokingly raised my hands saying, "All hail the gods of the oceans."

Curious to continue my personal pagan patterning pilgrimage it felt natural to move to the left. There I saw... not so much. Well, what I found I was looking at was some knee-high cactus next to some trees, which while taller than the cactus were not exactly towering oaks. The line seemed to be pointing exactly at the fuzzy place where they came together. This put me in mind of the Chinese phrase "middle kingdom" which refers (according to the Rush song) to this space we inhabit between heaven and earth. Though I'm sure at the time I called it incorrectly "middle earth." The "extremes" of not-so-short and not-so-tall made were reminiscent of the value of the least and the greatest of humanity. So, well, um, "Gods of this life, I give you good greeting. Keep me mindful of my place." That seemed Chinese enough. The pause to ponder the meaning of the view along this line took some of the silliness from my musings.

I moved to the next line and found I was looking at a rake. The labyrinth, like the rest of this world requires maintenance. This was more straightforward: "Thank you God, for the gift of work."

The next line looked back at the prayer path that leads to the labyrinth. "Be with me, God, on the journey."

Out in front of the fifth line I saw the big pile of junk that had been scraped aside to make way for the labyrinth. "Thank you, God, for the things that formed who I am, but are no longer necessary. Thank you for changing old for new in me and all things."

At the last line, I found myself looking at an object I had looked past at prior points: the fence. It became the prominent feature when nothing else presented. A boundary. "Thank you, God, for the edges of things. Thank you for a time limit in this place. Thank you for Jesus who overcame death."

And so I came back to the jetski, or whatever you call it, and instead of thinking "ocean", I thought "recreation". "Thanks for playtime," I began, but then changed the pronunciation to a long "e" or "re-creation" and saw the whole come together:

From the deep breath of God (a stretch from "ocean" but think Genesis 1 and give me some slack) we are born into this world with certain resources with which we labor, journey and grow, fail and change, and die. But then there is new life awaiting the ones that choose to keep moving.

Of course there is more to be read into each line and different stories to tell, but that's my initial take.

---

You can't really see the stuff in the pictures that I took from the center of the circle, so I took some close-ups too. Click photos for full size enlargements.

---

The Deep / Recreation Line

---

Station of Birth Line

---

Labor Line

---

Journey Line

---

Midden Line

---

Border Line Posted to Church Life at June 29, 2008 2:26 AM