Isabella Bird Miscellany

I often write things on a particular day, and don't post them for a while, or even at all. For the most part, I'll change the tense so the words are relevant. This however, is basically an unedited version of what I wrote in my journal after walking the circles in the sand: Today is my birthday. It's not just another birthday, for on this particular of everyday, ordinary days, I turned 60. It's not a little number anymore, but it's also not as big as some to come. I wasn't sure what to do with the responsibility of reaching this point. It could be an "I'll wear purple and learn to spit" kind of day; conceivably an introspective, meditative time or a big hoopla, firecrackers blasting, but that's saved for Lady Liberty. None of the above seemed quite me, so I chose to walk a sandy path labyrinth. I find walking a labyrinth to be inspiring, peaceful and moving. It's a time to celebrate and nurture the body, soul and spirit. ...

bleached out rocks, pine needles and crunch gravel At last, (sounds like the end instead of the beginning of a story, or a crooned love song) my man and I were able to walk the labyrinth on Brosterhaus Road.  The first time we visited, it was winter; being partially covered with left-over snow, sections of the path were obscured.  What struck me at the time was the labyrinth was set in a prayer garden.  Peeking from the snow were benches, shrubs, a water feature of sorts and a rugged cross made of gnarled juniper. Returning today, everything was revealed in brilliant sunshine punctuated by the ever-present cold Central Oregon spring wind.  I swear it must blow directly across the ice fields on the mountains before biting exposed cheeks. Walking, I found it hard to concentrate and clear my mind.  I deliberately slowed my already slow pace in an attempt at mindfulness, listening to my steps on the finely crushed gravel and the wind swirling t...

release, receive, return I walked a labyrinth.  It was a first, and will not be the last. Prayer labyrinths differ from confusing, complicated mazes found in cornfields, theme parks and oddly strange old estates, now overgrown and House-of-Usher-like.  No, these places are peaceful, meditative puzzles to mindfully walk, allowing the spirit and soul to settle from the stress that demands. My inner thoughts traveled as circuitously as the path I was following.  Step by step, I moved to the center, taking a few moments there, to reflect on the way...and my conceptions.  Exiting the center, I returned on the same spherical path.   Many metaphors filled my mind, pictures of life, everything old is new again, you know the stuff.  But, then I would slow down my meditations and pace; concentrating on methodical steps – whispering a prayer, hearing the birds, feeling the breeze and cool sunshine. Once again, my inner person would stray....