A solo trust walk in the labyrinth
Shooting from the hip while experimenting with sensory awareness.
One sunny October morning, Denisa woke up in the old RV at the Chiron property and felt like going for a blind walk in the equine labyrinth.
Yes, I have been practicing blind walking since the spring, but it only occurred to me now to document this mindfulness exercise in photos. I used an old sleeping mask to turn my eyes inward, and trusted all my other senses to navigate me through the complex maze of stones, plants and moving animals toward the center.
The plan was to snap a picture with the camera held at the chest level every ten to fifteen steps and review after the experiment.
The Butterfly Equine Labyrinth is a one kilometer long winding path; each layer wide enough to allow two horses to pass one another. A regular walk takes 5-7 minutes each way. I expected to take three times as long.
The labyrinth has seven layers (pathways), each representing one chakra - an energy point in the body of every living being.
The first 'obstacle' I encountered was Spirit, meditating as usual in the morning sunshine. I saw him before I put on the blindfold, but remembered only vaguely his exact position. As it turned out, he was standing in a different lane than I was walking in.
The real challenge was to stay walking in the same lane. The stones marking each lane have recently been half-buried in the ground to make it harder for the horses to move them around during grazing, but it also made it easier to skip lanes when groping in the dark.
The most secure method to stay in the lane was to find and follow the stone line with my feet whenever I felt lost.
Sometimes, the texture of the ground under my feet changed for just one or two steps - it was suddenly somewhat soft and squishy, almost juicy.
...and it happened repeatedly.
Other times, I walked into the few plants growing in the pathways.
I also managed to walk into both of the trees guarding the labyrinth in the north and the south
Very often, I ended up in the corner of an ending pathway, trying to remember which way it leads into the next one.
At one point, I felt I was going down hill, and the ground felt unusually soft for way longer than one or two "poop steps". I didn't recall the labyrinth ever going down the hill so much, also. I turned around and took a shot in the direction I came from. Then I took the blindfold off only to find out I'd wandered out of the labyrinth and into the swamps.
A view of the swamps from the labyrinth.
When I first began the walk, there was only Spirit standing in one of the pathways, while the rest of the herd was grazing by the hay shed. This time, I could sense that I was approaching more than one animal. I smelled the horse scent from both sides and felt more "surrounded" and warm.
I walked closer to the horses and felt their stillness. Calmness. And their active presence in whatever I was doing.
I reached toward what I thought would be the horse's muzzle. It was Sorento. Thanks to our bond I can tell his smell from the others. I touched his nose and he didn't move away, still standing completely motionless. It was clear to me he was interested in what I was about, but thoughtful and patient enough to not interrupt my experiment.
Shortly after connecting with Sorento, my stride became a little too confident, and, inevitably, I tripped over the stones and fell. This photo documents the fast descend to the ground.
Encountering Spirit again. I could feel him from afar as I was coming near, and was convinced he was standing in my way. I reached out with my hand but never felt him. Again, he had already moved into a different pathway.
After a while, I thought I'd been walking long enough to be nearing the center of the labyrinth. It turned out that I unknowingly captured it in a few photos along the way. This one shows the entrance and the crystal core of the center.
I never reached the center. It had been over 45 of walking, groping, tripping, falling and skipping lanes when I took my blindfold off to learn I was standing in the same lane where i began. I guess it wasn't mean to be this time.
This experiment is to be continued.
