Places of Reciprocity

Across time and across many different landscapes, people have lived in relationship with the land. Our existence depends on the abundance offered by all living things we are in relationship with. Over time, and especially in our modern era, this relationship has become warped by consumerism, extraction, and capitalism. We ask not what we can give the land in return for its gifts but instead how much the land can give before it breaks. The disruption of colonization on the landscape and the forced removal of indigenous people on the land is heartbreak the land and its people still hold.  

There are important earth caretakers in our midst here in Montana, doing their best to live intentionally, and in reciprocal relationship with the land. In July, Confluence had the joy of visiting the Red Sun Labyrinth near Victor, nestled in the foothills of the Bitterroot mountains. This is a place of intention and great care, something I felt deeply while in the place. The labyrinth’s caretakers live on the property and invite anyone to venture out and walk the labyrinth who wishes to come. The original 800 year-old pattern for this eleven circuit labyrinth is in Chartres Cathedral in France.

To enter the labyrinth, we walked along a meandering path. We passed through many gates and archways, all leading us to the large meadow where the labyrinth is. With each step closer, I felt the energy of the landscape meeting my own energy. I also felt the care and intention of the caretakers, with many small pieces of art and inspirational quotes placed along the path. 

Entering through the final gate along the path brought us to a large grassy meadow. The labyrinth was encircled by a short hill, and a fence with many kinds of berry bushes growing through it. Views of the mountains to the west rose up to meet a sky swirling with clouds. The summer sun found its moments to poke through and warm us. 

As we entered the labyrinth gate, we saw one of its caretakers tending to the cedar chip path. She smiled at us and kept to her gentle and intentional work, smoothing the chips, preparing the labyrinth for our presence. We left the labyrinth through the gate, and took a seat in the soft grass nearby. Kim led us through some gentle yoga and meditation, allowing the place to soak into our bones. After a time of meditation, we were each invited to enter the labyrinth on our own time. 

The labyrinth as a meditative practice offers so many invitations. Once you enter, there is no decision to be made, you are walking a meandering path that leads to the middle and then leads back out again. Our invitation from Kim was to use the labyrinth to hold lightly something we wanted to focus on, and then use the space in the middle of the labyrinth as a place to release and let something go. I experienced the nuance of each thoughtful step as my feet led me through the labyrinth. The intention of my fellow labyrinth travelers was felt and held as we passed by one another on the path, placing our palms together in soft gestures of solidarity. The bees too, were our companions in walking, as they hummed along between the lavender bushes whose aroma hung in the air. 

Each passing turn of the path brought new views of the place itself where the labyrinth rests. We saw the tall craggy mountains above, the wide and verdant river valley below, the old ponderosa pines with their gnarled limbs, and the grassy meadow all around. The clouds and sunlight changed too, offering varying qualities of light. This labyrinth’s namesake sun made its steady presence known, especially in the middle of the labyrinth among so many granite stones that make the labyrinth path. Cradled by the earth in this place, we felt the heat of a star, and in the sensation understood in small part our place in the cosmos.

I have been a guest in other places where human relationship with place is reciprocal and felt. In a natural hot spring on the island of Hokkaido in Japan, I soaked in a manmade pool at even eye-level with a vast lake, giving the sense of being part of an endless expanse of water. In the hallways and paths of the Angkor Wat temple complex in Cambodia, I was a passenger sharing footsteps on stones carved by human hands, placed in service to a greater vision of the universe and our place in it. In Glasgow Cathederal in Scotland, I wandered among stones placed one on another that seemed to lift themselves into the sky, the calm echo of murmured prayer brushing my ears. All of these places have held significant spiritual importance for me, and for so many others. I’m sure you, reader, have places that hold significance for your spirit too. We are grateful for them, and grateful for people who lived before us, who dreamed beyond their lifetimes to create something both beyond time, and a testimony to time itself. 

What gift are we to offer in return? As I reflect, our gift to these places is in our movement beyond them. We can do what the stones cannot, we can move beyond the place. When we dwell in sacred places and let them soak into our being, then our inner and outer movement in response to the place is a testament. How we move our bone sacks of living stones is a reflection of the places where we have received the gifts of dwelling. And when our bones and mind forget, as they so easily do, we can return to the places, and ask them to dwell with us again. 

May we meet the earth with gratitude each day for the nameless and profound ways it holds us.