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 was the second labyrinth of the day for me. My family was on vacation at Chincoteague, Virginia, and I headed out one day to walk some labyrinths. This one took me into Maryland, to Salem United Methodist Church in Pocomoke City.

This labyrinth was a 7-circuit Chartres-style design, with a grass path and brick walls. However, it was very neglected. It was incredibly difficult to even see the path. It made me wonder if anybody at the church now even remembers that they have a labyrinth to take care of. Maybe they think nobody’s interested in it anymore.

Anyway, at the first labyrinth I explored my relationship with my son, especially in terms of my relationship with myself at the same age. So I thought that might be a place to go for this labyrinth. The question I entered it with, therefore, was this: How’s my relationship with my inner child?

I had so much trouble walking this one. If it had been a standard classical labyrinth, I might have been able to walk it from memory. But I don’t know the 7-circuit Chartres design as well. I spent so much mental energy that I had trouble focusing on my question. I found myself alternating between trying to find the path, and getting annoyed at the church.

But I think that’s kind of how I’m feeling about my inner child these days, actually. I’ve lost touch with him, and I’m always kind of annoyed with him. I can tell I’ve lost touch because I have no memories whatsoever of Chincoteague. When I was a child, my family came to the island twice in two consecutive summers. I thought for sure, given the photographic memory I used to have, that I would experience some memories or at least déjà vu this week. But I haven’t. It’s so unlike me.

And I can tell I’m annoyed with my inner child (as though that’s ever in question), because I have had to stop myself from focusing on the mistakes I made as a teenager while searching for colleges with my son. I feel such regret, not for the choice of colleges I made, but for the lack of effort I put into the search. I feel like my inner child is both absent and stupid.

It’s funny – I have made so many trips in the past few years to places I used to live, and every time, water is involved. The Schuylkill River in Minersville that reminded me of my baptism, the Nescopeck Creek in St. Johns that reminded me of the hours and hours I spent by that creek as a child, the Susquehanna River in Nescopeck that reminded me that my years spent there were better than I remembered. Water and my own past always combine so well and provide me with meaning. But here in Chincoteague, surrounded by water and my own past, I feel nothing.

Then again, we haven’t actually been to the beach yet. Tomorrow we go to Assateague, and perhaps there I will find something. There, at the edge of the great salty ocean. There, where I first began my tradition of standing in waist deep water and “fighting the waves.” Will that be moving for me? I’ve already found delight in this trip – is that where I’ll find meaning?

Well, now, that’s interesting. Why do I always go out in the water to fight the waves whenever I’m at the beach? Why am I pulled that way?

And what’s more, was my lack of searching for a college, and just choosing one that sounded good, an example of me not fighting waves? Just going with the flow? What does all this mean?

Ah, now I’m onto something. I’ll carry that question into the next labyrinth. And I have to share one more thing. I found this on the labyrinth, and I just think it’s neat: