Continuing the conversation on Just Be.
There are hundreds of books and websites on walking the labyrinth. They include meditations and prayers to use while you’re walking. Most extol the benefits of “using” a labyrinth. I haven’t read or watched any of them.
But I have been told somewhere that walking a traditional labyrinth (one that is actually a path that goes to the center as opposed to a maze), is a useful practice. So I walk them whenever I get a chance, even if I’m not sure why.
A few days ago I found myself with a free afternoon in San Francisco and headed to Grace Cathedral where there are two labyrinths, one inside and one outside. As I’ve been deliberately going where my body and the moment want to take me I wasn’t surprised that, while I headed toward Chinatown, I ended up at the cathedral. Plus I was tired of walking so just sat for awhile after I got there. But I’d promised myself that I’d walk the labyrinths, so I slowly started on the beautiful inside one.
Just being. Quickly I learned that if I didn’t look without distraction at each step as I took it, I’d get off the path. The path wasn’t that wide and certainly not that straight. Even regular walking became too active. The only way around the turns was taking baby steps. Watching each one. So, as I walked, it actually didn’t matter where I was going. Or if I were going anywhere. The important part became each step. And whenever my mind wandered (which of course it did, being human and all), I found the wandering didn’t work. There was a sense that I was missing something by worrying or planning. What was missing was my actual experience of the steps. That process was what was important and interesting.
Somet
imes when I looked up I was almost at the center, but then the path curved away. And then came a wider turn or a long straight stretch. Step by step. Suddenly I did find myself in the center. But while that was, in a way, exciting and fulfilling, it was also only temporary. Again, it was step by step leading where? Oh, I knew it was to the exit. And it looked a few times as if I were almost there. And then suddenly I was.
Outside, half the labyrinth was in shadow, and as I’d already walked one, I found myself noticing other things as I continued step by step. First, anywhere I stopped was perfect. A lily-shaped flower. Tourists engaged in that random, but deliberate, curiosity tourists seem to have. Seeing my shadow. Had I already reached the center? I didn’t think so, but really couldn’t remember. Just keep going step by step. Ah, here it is. I sat on the ground for a while. Because I could? But then I had to get up, and again, it was step by step to the exit.
So what does this have to do with Spirit Moxie? Somehow it was the strength of trusting the path and that my steps were going in the right direction without my really knowing what that goal or destination might be.
I suggest you try it. You don’t need a labyrinth. Go to the park or even a city sidewalk and just walk. See what you see. Go where you go. Be. You.
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Information on Grace Cathedral’s Labyrinths
All photos by Spirit Moxie: from the top
inside Labyrinth, Grace Cathedral, San Francisco
Outside Labyrinth, Grace Cathedral, San Francisco
A flower on the cathedral grounds
Shadow of author on outside labyrinth
There are more than 100 “How to Change the World” items on the Spirit Moxie challenge list. There are multiple permutations for all of them. But sometimes a brand new, world changing experience gets added.
In last week’s hike, I knew it would take me hours to get down off the mountain which was hardly supportive of my team. So, I stood up and said, “Hey, guys. I know this is a mind frick [something the mind claims as true when it isn’t], but I freak out going downhill.” The rest of the team just took it as a challenge. One guy grabbed my backpack. Two other tall, strong men were suddenly on either side of me. And they almost (or so it felt like) flew me down that mountain.
Note this may be different from asking for help. While we’re dealing with semantics, asking for help implies need. Support, for our purposes here, implies an addition to what one is already doing, something above and beyond the obvious. The support I received made getting down the mountain easy. If I had to do it by myself, I’m pretty sure I’d be off that mountain by now. As an example of the ”help”/“support” distinction, five months ago, when I was sick, I collapsed in the kitchen. I needed help to get up, but received support to keep going.
When they discovered I was terribly infectious during the final week I was in the hospital in January of 2017, I thought no one could come to see me. But I was wrong. For those who dared, they didn’t need to put on the blue plastic hospital gown conveniently available on my room’s door or wear a mask. Nope. There were only two instructions: to not touch me (and it was those who love hugs who showed up) and to wash their hands when they left. Either use the sink in “my” bathroom or take advantage of the hand sanitizer by the door. Period.
There are standard rules. The ones we might be most familiar with are to wash your hands after you use the bathroom and before you eat. If you work in a restaurant, you know that any food handling requires hand washing. From there it goes to multiple compulsive, frequent situations. Currently the one I’m having the most trouble with is sneezing, since I’m “nursing” a runny nose like a little kid.
Having written the above I’ve been practicing. I’m learning I am more apt to do my two choruses when I’m not home. Oh I wash at home, but the familiar pass through under the faucet happens more often than not even when I’m challenging my self. But I’ll keep with this and will report in on the comments on the web site. Join me.
I’m talking to a guy who showed up in my life out of nowhere and helped me through the month of hospitalization that ended 2016, adapted to my commitment to not own a car, and introduced me to the worlds of music and basic hippiedom that existed as parallel universes while I was growing up. And while his showing up (magic?) was confusing by itself, my questions were more about the call to be less than present (too active) or even mindful, but to exist without being driven by plans or expectations.
This is a lengthy way of explaining that when I fell down for no reason in late 2015, my only explanation was that my body wanted my attention. When this happened, I was called to just be so as to help the mild concussion I received from the fall heal. I wrote about it in
Of course questions arise. My coach (I recommend you find one) asked me what I was still sure about. My immediate answer was that I’m still sure about the vision of Spirit Moxie, the vision that we can change the world if we dare claim the little things we do. I’m also sure that all that happened in 2016 is somehow right if I allow it to be. (You can read about my fairly chaotic year in Dream
Four years ago, I explored
As examples of what is going on in America, and maybe the world, these incidents seem perfect. I didn’t respond to the assumption regarding race. I did confront the sexist guy, but didn’t seem to have the right words. But confrontation and right words are what we need right now.
So I’d like to suggest that we are all called to action. We have, if you will, been handed a wake-up call, a call to healing, to address rather than ignore the “isms.”
they do things you favor, applaud. If you are politically clueless (this would be me), this is a time to let your more politically minded friends suggest low stress, but
My friend the Universe, if I choose to claim her as such, had freed me from a lot of belongings and challenged me to seriously think of moving to another city and form more concretely the possibilities for Spirit Moxie. So I moved in with a friend (support), seriously explored Portland and Seattle as possible places to live (adventure), and began taking some classes to solidify the work of Spirit Moxie (support and adventure). Actually the whole year has been one of support and adventure with new friends, reconnections, and the travel I love.
Oh, for weeks my meditation time ended with an image of me walking a beach. And in July, on my birthday eve, I did find myself walking over intricate sand patterns and through tide pools on the Oregon coast.
Never have I seen medical people more unconcerned when “cancer” or, in this case “leukemia,” was part of the diagnosis. It’s rare.* Easily treatable. A week, once, of chemo with about six months of monitoring is all you need. If you really want to move and have treatment on the West Coast that’s fine.
shop.” I also unexpectedly heard her play more “upbeat” stuff with another guitar player and a drummer, a side I’d never seen before. In the process, I met people and, yes, talked about Spirit Moxie, supported the local economy by buying a couple of drinks including one for the musician, and for the first time, was betrayed by Uber. As result, I also had a perfect, unexpected, and beautiful midnight bus ride home. Great evening.
At it’s best, art makes us see things differently. We see an ordinary object from a different perspective. The “truth” of a song, any still life, a great portrait, that weird piece—whether visual or audio—where you can’t figure out where they are coming from. Look at the fairly recent popularity of flash mob performances. Just having our regular routine “upset” by art seems to speak to us.
You might already support multiple artistic endeavors. Your children’s school performances. The garage bands started by friends and family that get real gigs in bars and restaurants. I still remember the ska band Nice Guy Eddie that was the creation and obsession, for awhile, of my younger son’s friends, who are now my friends. And then there was the grand red carpet opening (and only showing) of my son’s almost complete film, which also featured his friends, Bitch Ass Ninjas: the return of Fatty which we attended in faux fur
and a tuxedo.
And how do you support the visual arts. I can find time to attend events, but I only have so much wall space. Well, artist have events too. While you might not buy, there are openings, receptions, and, yes, shows. My regret is that my awesome friend
herself into a successful encaustic artist who is featured in various Colorado galleries. But I can “like” the pieces these artists share on Facebook. I can tell them I’d like to be there for the opening. And I can cheer when one of their pieces is the perfect piece for an award or show or, gasp, just because I love it.
York of 
For years I’ve avoided reading newspapers or watching the news, but I still manage to learn about major events. Sometimes when I hear a bit of news, I even go looking for more information. And certainly the Internet, odd notes on Yahoo, and posts on Facebook, keep me pretty well informed. Whatever that means.
1) Baton Rouge, LA; St. Paul, MN; Dallas, TX; Nice, France; Bagdad, Iraqi, plus multiple other places. My friend K. Jeanne Person remembers those shot in Orlando, FL, with beautiful, in-depth word sketches about one person per day. At this point I just want to list names of the United States’ most immediate tragedies—or the tragedies when this began. Baton Rouge has been hit again.

3) Regarding “Black Lives Matter.” Yes, indeed, we do all matter. But the recent steps to explain why “Black Lives Matter” doesn’t threaten us all mattering, got me thinking.
The world is suspicious and impersonal and now random people are stopping you in the street (or at least this happened to me) and saying, “See, isn’t he cute?”, as they show you their screens.
When I worked in New York a number of years ago, the staff where I worked decided I was important, competent, and interesting. To this day, Delta Airlines knows me as Dr. Sedgwick thanks to a secretary who wrangled my plane reservations. When I worked for a similar organization in another city, the identity I was given was, “Who are you? Prove you’re worthy to work with us.” Needless to say the first position was a lot easier and, actually, more effective for everyone involved.
FarmVille 2 Country Escape away, having completed the quest. My score is still firmly in the middle in Gummy Drop!, which I keep playing because I do know the player ahead of me, even if I never see her these days—and because it is a puzzle. Both of these games are on my iPad. Because I’m currently computerless, two online friends are keeping Farm Town going on Facebook. (I met one of these friends once face to face although it is through the game we became friends.) And, there are 3 or 4 unknown people who clearly depend on me to play Pet Hotel on my phone. Plus certainly I need to play Sudoku, usually on the phone. Doesn’t that count as Alzheimer’s prevention?
I’m reading the most recent volume of
If ease is the answer and being present is the road map that I keep foisting on everyone else, what am I called to right now? First not to beat myself up about it. And next? Well, there’s one thing to be handled in Country Escape. I’m waiting for two phone calls and a text re finances and plans. The book has been read, along with two more in a different series, so those must be returned to the library. We’ll see if replacements show up. A cat is demanding to be petted. And apparently I’ve dithered long enough and so am finishing writing this.