A labyrinth is an ancient spiritual tool designed to foster contemplation and spiritual transformation. Walked by contemplatives and lay people alike for centuries, labyrinths are typically formed as a circle with a singular path leading to a center and constructed out of a wide range of materials. (1) Labyrinths today can be found embedded into the architecture of old churches, in the middle of remote forests, on rocky coastlines, in home gardens, and near contemporary community centers. 

In modern culture, we often use the terms “labyrinth” and “maze” interchangeably, but contemplative labyrinths are distinct from mazes in a key way. As Lauren Artress says, “A maze is designed to make you lose your way, while a labyrinth is designed to help you find your way.” (2) Labyrinths lead you to a center, designed to increase wisdom and discernment; mazes, in contrast, are constructed to be confusing, leading you toward unforeseen dead ends and barriers. 

Labyrinths are cross-cultural and ancient, having part of human society for more than 4000 years. (3) Artforms across nearly every continent contain the “classical labyrinth symbol” (pictured below) dating back to 2000 BCE. (4)

Travis Scholl, in Walking the Labyrinth, traces the journey of the labyrinth itself, stating, “From the Greek island of Crete, extending south and east into India, north into Europe, west into North America, it took a winding, worldwide path, ever bending, never a straight line, always in circles.” (6) Monks used the labyrinth at the Chartres Cathedral for Christian contemplation beginning in 1205; today, this is one of the most renowned, well-worn labyrinths, drawing countless Christian pilgrims from far and wide. (7)

Though labyrinths can be employed as spiritual tools in countless ways, there is a distinctly Christian interpretation, one which monks at the Chartres labyrinth used in their contemplation: the labyrinth as a representation and embodiment of the Christian arc from “sin to redemption.” (9) Additional interpretations of the labyrinth include walking the path Jesus Christ walked, finding the “mystery of Christ who is the center of faith” and life for Christian people, a “discipline of prayer,” and a “living symbol of the journey of faith in a sinful, broken world.” (10) In Christianity, the labyrinth helps pilgrims connect to Christ’s sustaining, redeeming love. 

How do we walk this labyrinth? Atress outlines countless ways of walking the labyrinth in The Sacred Path Companion, from shadow and dream work to finding your calling, and more. She places these methods in two categories: some are walking meditations, while others are part of some ritual. One paradigm, outlined as the “Four Rs,” (11) particularly spoke to me: 

• Remembering/Via Positiva: “As you are gathering your thoughts, preparing to begin your walk, remember you are blessed. All that we have, all that we are is a blessing from the Divine.” 

• Releasing/Via Negativa: “Letting go, quieting, opening, emptying, or shedding, begins at the entrance and ends at the center.” 

• Receiving/Via Creativa: “Having emptied, there is a spaciousness within to receive the creative spirit. Receiving guidance, interior silence, a creative idea, and a sense of peace are only a few experiences that can occur on a labyrinth walk.” 

• Resolving/Via Transformativa: “It begins when you leave the center and return on the same path back out of the labyrinth. There are many aspects of this: you can resolve to take a next step in your life, or come to a resolution about something bothering you. Rejuvenation often occurs, or a feeling of rebirth begins.” (12)

Artress, Scholl, and other scholars made this clear: whether desiring to unpack a dream, resolve a conflict, find one’s life’s calling, or deepen one’s faith, walking the labyrinth begets transformation. I understood this on an intellectual level, but I wondered, “is this true?” 

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I read about the labyrinth without ever having walked it. I was curious and a little nervous. Much to my surprise, I learned there was a replica of the Chartres labyrinth only five minutes from my house. Armed with information and competing paradigms swirling like a whirlpool in my head, I walked from the sun-soaked parking lot toward a line of trees where the labyrinth was situated. As I walked, I passed a wooden cross in a field and bricks engraved with messages like “love is stronger than death,” the vegetation thickened, until I arrived in a garden teeming with life, irises, and yew trees. 

I stood before the opening of the labyrinth, marked with a concrete plaque, engraved with the words, “Enter the Labyrinth, a Sacred Prayer Walk.” As I closed my eyes, gathering my thoughts and remembering my blessings, I realized beneath my intention was a nagging feeling. I was wondering, “How do I do this correctly?” My ego had an agenda: I wanted to experience the kind of organic transformation Artress and Scholl had promised. As I kept my eyes closed, remembering all the people and things for which I am grateful, I also decided to let the exercise just be what it is. I prayed that the labyrinth would reveal what I needed to see or understand and began walking. 

The last year has been a difficult and busy one for me, as it has been for all of us. I’ve moved several times, twice unexpectedly. My husband and I grieved the loss of his mother, also an unexpected loss. I applied to doctoral programs. I started new work. As I walked, I sensed a feeling of wanting to look ahead to the next turn. It reminded me of the shock, the dread, the terrible feeling of wanting to know the answer to the question, what’s going to happen next? And the answer to deeper questions: where do I belong and what is my life’s purpose? I felt a subtle heaviness, the heaviness of pushing to get something done while carrying sadness and grief, the weight of the expectations I place upon myself, and the weight of my ego wanting to control, well, everything. 

At the center, I sat on the stone and closed my eyes, reaching my face toward the sun. I felt suspended in a sort of rest I hadn’t felt in over a year. I’d spent countless days sitting a few inches away from the blue light of a computer screen, living a contracted life, worrying. I felt the presence of God, not as a sudden assurance of salvation but as an indescribable nearness, a place where the walls between spiritual and physical reality seemed to melt away – a thin place. Walking back, I suddenly felt I could breathe more deeply, filled with peace not urgency. 

By not manipulating myself and the experience to be “right,” I opened myself to receive the gifts of the practice. We live in a world which is mesmerized by cognition, often disenchanted with religion. At times, I feel this sensibility seeping into my contemplative practices, instrumentalizing them. I think, “If I sit in centering prayer for twenty minutes, I should connect to the presence of the Holy Spirit,” just as I thought, “If I walk the labyrinth in the right way, I’ll be transformed.” It is a distorted way of viewing contemplation, which obscures the gifts of contemplations. As Richard Rohr says: 

“In the West, religion became preoccupied with telling people what to know more than how to know, telling people what to see more than how to see. We ended up seeing Holy Things faintly, trying to understand Great Things with a whittled-down mind, and trying to love God with our own small and divided heart. It has been like trying to view the galaxies with a $5 pair of binoculars. As you will see, contemplation, my word for this larger seeing, keeps the whole field open; it remains vulnerable before the moment, the event, or the person — before it divides and tries to conquer or control it.” (13)

The “contemplative” heart is a non-dual, non-judgmental, compassionate, open heart filled with love, not expectation. This stance opens us to transformation, healing, and God’s presence. 

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Though an ancient practice, walking the labyrinth bears fruit for our present moment. We need practices to help us process this year filled with loss, violence, illness, and isolation. We also need practices as we reemerge into our communities and a world transformed by pain. The thin place of the labyrinth offers us an opening to our own transformation, so that we may deepen our faith, heal ourselves, and strengthen the virtues we need to heal the world.

1. Artress, Lauren. The Sacred Path Companion, Penguin Publishing Group, Kindle Edition, 33.

2. Ibid., 34.

3. Di Williams, “Orgins of the Labyrinth,” University of Edinburgh: https://www.ed.ac.uk/labyrinth/historical/origins

4. Ibid.

5. “Classical Labyrinths,” World-Wide Labyrinth Locator: https://labyrinthlocator.com/labyrinth-typology/4341-classical-labyrinths

6. Scholl, Travis. Walking the Labyrinth, InterVarsity Press, Kindle Edition, 15.

7. Billock, Jennifer. “Walk the World’s Most Meditative Labyrinths,” Smithsonian Magazine: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/travel/walk-worlds-meditative-labyrinths-180957823/

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid.

10. Scholl, 15-16.

11. Artress, 38.

12. Ibid, 40.

13. Rohr, Richard. The Naked Now, The Crossroad Publishing Company, Kindle Edition, 33-34.