For at least twenty years, I have enjoyed walking labyrinths. Labyrinths are maze-like structures that have been used as spiritual tools for centuries. For the past seven years, I’ve been walking labyrinths throughout the northeastern United States, and blogging about them. To learn more about labyrinths, check out this page at the Labyrinth Society. To find labyrinths near you, try the Worldwide Labyrinth Locator.

This is one of the largest labyrinths I’ve ever walked, and I also feel one of the most beautiful. It’s a full 11-circuit Chartres, built with very wide gravel paths and brick walls, and surrounded by well-maintained collections of plants and crystals. It felt as thought it was built patiently and slowly, with copious intention, attention, and love.

As I arrived at this labyrinth, I was thinking about the image of the “two wolves;” the idea that we have two (or more) opposing forces within each of us, and the force that wins is the one we “feed.” I’ve sometimes thought about that as one way of understanding my own experience of living with the Dark Voice and the Still, Small Voice of God. I’ve also recognized that recently I’ve been unwittingly doing a good job of feeding my relationship with the Dark Voice, and not so good at feeding my relationship with God.

So, the question I walked into the labyrinth with was this: How can I feed the better wolf inside me at this time in my life?

The first thoughts that came as I walked were no surprise: “other people.” “Trusted people.” I know this, I know this so well, that when I am connecting with other people, particularly people whom I love and trust, things go better and I feel better. Yet I so often kick and scream against that.

So often, I just don’t want to reach out to others. So often I just feel like everything I do bothers other people, that I am causing more harm than good. So often, I would prefer to hide out all by myself, curl up, delete all my social media profiles, and just sleep. And this inevitably leads to thoughts of how meaningless everything is, to thoughts of wishing I would just die.

I don’t think I realize while it’s happening, but doing those things – curling up, hermitting out, hiding in bed, all those things are really good food for the “worse wolf,” the one that symbolizes my relationship with the Dark Voice. So much that I do in my life is really food for one of the wolves. No wonder that hiding out sometimes feels oddly nourishing and comforting – it is food for part of me. But at what cost.

So today, here in this labyrinth, I am feeding the better wolf. Being here, being mindful like this, walking this labyrinth, is nourishment. And there are other things I can do as well. And I think I’ve hit on it in the past, when I developed something a few years ago I called my “rhythm of resilience.” It was a series of things I tried to do each day, or each week, or each month. It was all food for the better wolf. I started out strong with it, but like so many things, my attention to it drifted away. I have reworked this Rhythm several times, in an attempt to make it more sustainable, and I think it’s time to do that again. So I plan to redevelop an updated rhythm of resilience in the next few days, which will absolutely include a plan to reach out to at least a few trusted people.