I’m on something of a labyrinth journey at the moment (you can read my first blog on the subject here). Having mastered drawing my labyrinth, the next move was clearly to try and make one. I decided to use the space outside my flat, and fallen leaves, as this was easy all round. It was a still day. I intended to make it as small as possible – a labyrinth for a mouse – but I didn’t really know what that would mean in practice and whether I could turn what was in my head into a physical form.
The first thing I realised was that concentric circles already existed on the grass, suggested by a number of small toadstools in incomplete fairy rings. I gave this a moment of serious thought, and came to the conclusion that I was going to have to work with the toadstool rings, and centred accordingly and that all got off to a good start.
I got eight circles down, by which point it was clear that to make a mouse labyrinth was bigger than I had imagined. Then the wind came to play, and just whipped up a few leaves, and suddenly I didn’t have circles anymore, I had a spiral. It was a deeply uncanny moment.
The thing is, that this little area is always full of whirlwinds. What we do here is spirals, and I felt very keenly that my concentric circles just didn’t work, and wouldn’t work and that I was in the wrong place. I can take a hint. Grateful for what I had learned, I started planning my next move…
One of the things that became clear to me in this process was that I really do want to incorporate found, natural items into labyrinth making. It becomes an act of communicating with, engaging with a place rather than just going out and imposing a structure on it. A seasonal element enters the mix – what I can work with will vary through the year.
On the whole I think there is a meditative aspect to making the labyrinth – even my barely started circles gave me reason to think that. It was a good thing to do, and left me wanting to try again. Which I duly did that evening.
The next instalment in the adventure will be out tomorrow!