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 my fifth labyrinth of the day. Up until now, all of the questions I’d brought into the labyrinths had been lighthearted. I’d spent the time exploring how I might best return to my normal life once this two-week vacation ended. But now, it turned dark. I’m back, baby!

I pulled into St. Luke Lutheran Church in Devon, Pennsylvania, and the question on my mind was about pondering. No surprise there; this whole vacation was about pondering. In fact, I’d taken to calling it a retreat entitled “Ponder Anew What the Almighty Can Do.” I knew by now that I wanted to continue to ponder as I returned home. To continue to wonder, to make time to breathe in ideas and thoughts, and explore faith.

And the question that came to my mind was:

Is pondering something worth living for?

And here’s what I meant by that: I often have trouble discerning what actually makes life worth living. What is it that keeps me going? Is there anything worth holding onto? I’m not often actively suicidal, but I am often existential like this, wondering just what it’s all about — and what can I hold onto next time depression gets really bad?

So I wondered. This daily pondering I planned to do — was it worth living for? Could this keep me alive next time I start to slip?

I stood at the entrance of the labyrinth, a seven-circuit medieval design, in quadrants. I haven’t walked this design very frequently, but it’s always kind of interesting. If you divide the labyrinth into four quadrants (like cutting a pie into four pieces), this path leads you through one quadrant at a time. Subtly different than the classical and medieval designs I usually walk.

I walked in, and began to ponder the question. I received no answer. I remembered what I’d learned at my previous labyrinth: that sometimes questions have no answers, but the questions are still worth pondering. Was this one of those questions?

I wanted to know, though, if it’s worth going through the struggles and the meaninglessness of life, to get to moments like these? To get to times when I go on “retreat,” or walk a labyrinth, or have a kind of mountaintop experience? To make the time each day to ponder for a few minutes? Are they what make life worthwhile?

I truly don’t know. And it didn’t feel like I came any closer to an answer as I walked. Would something be lost if I’d died at age 17, and never made it to this retreat? I honestly don’t know.

I can’t discern that. I don’t have enough information. I can’t tell if this is worth living for, because right now I’m not facing death with any urgency. Perhaps next time I’m depressed, I could try to cling to these moments, cling to pondering, and see if that helps. Until then, I can’t know.

So then, I tried to feel the question instead of think it. And I felt a very gentle, yet very firm, tugging. It was like I had a string attached to my chest, and the string was taut and puling me ever so gently through the labyrinth. And I had the feeling that I was being led somewhere, somewhere good. And I had the feeling that I was not alone. And I had the feeling like I was not done yet. Is that enough to live for? Well, right now it is. We’ll have to see what comes next.