Sunrise Labyrinth Walk on Earth Day

I made sure to get up very early on Earth Day in order to get to the Carleton Place Community Labyrinth in time for our 6 AM sunrise walk.  The moment I got outside I was treated to a view of the beautiful waning full moon surrounded by a soft white glow. And upon arrival at the labyrinth I enjoyed the sounds of bird song all around me. I quietly walked around the labyrinth on the contemplation ring as I prepared for my walk.

A view of the waning full moon from the labyrinth on Earth Day.

The labyrinth cat circles the Celtic Pashcal candle several times and reaches out to the light.

As I was walking, three others arrived and started walking the labyrinth at their own pace. The labyrinth cat also appeared and after greeting me, went to inspect the glowing candle. We gathered at the standing stones at entrance to the labyrinth after the walk and had a wonderful conversation and discovered interesting connections. Here is one of the poems that was recited to close this very special walk.

 Packing for the Future: Instructions by Lorna Crozier
Take the thickest socks.
Wherever you're going
you'll have to walk.

There may be water.
There may be stones.
There may be high places
you cannot go without
the hope socks bring you,
the way they hold you
to the earth.

At least one pair must be new,
must be as blue as a wish
hand-knit by your mother
in her sleep.

Take a leather satchel,
a velvet bag and an old tin box--
a salamander painted on the lid.

This is to carry that small thing
you cannot leave. Perhaps the key
you've kept though it doesn't fit
any lock you know,
the photograph that keeps you sane,
a ball of string to lead you out
though you can't walk back
into that light.

In your bag leave room for sadness,
leave room for another language.

There may be doors nailed shut.
There may be painted windows.
There may be signs that warn you
to be gone. Take the dream
you've been having since
you were a child, the one
with open fields and the wind
sounding.

Mistrust no one who offers you
water from a well, a songbird's feather,
something that's been mended twice.
Always travel lighter
than the heart.

~ from What the Living Won't Let Go (McClelland & Stewart Inc, 1999)