CIRCLES, SPIRALS, LABYRINTHS....

Now, who is that at our door? Spike wondered on Saturday morning. He took up his usual position under the hall table to get a good look at visitors as they come in the front door. Sometimes he greets them cautiously. Sometimes he has a look and heads downstairs, perhaps to return during their visit, and perhaps not. But in this case, he rolled over on the hall floor to display the lovely white diamonds on his chest and tummy - the ultimate friendly Spike greeting.


The three women – Nancy and Claudette from Ashland, and Anne from here in Eugene, are labyrinth facilitators. They create labyrinths for hospitals and other organizations and they were interested in visiting Gary’s backyard effort. After touring our garden, we drove over the Anne’s to see her more organic labyrinth – she had used Self-Heal (Dubhan ceann chòsach) or Prunella vulgaris, a tough Oregon native groundcover in her pathways, where Gary had used gravel.

During the visit to Anne’s she shared some photo albums of visits that she and her husband, Ron, had made to places like Carnac and Gavrinis. Gavrinis is a place I have always wanted to visit – so much so that I included it in a poem titled MAZES:
(See the end of this blog for the poem)

Later, Gary and I talked about spirals and labyrinths, and the fact the circles (and spirals) are found in the cave and rock art of earliest cultures all over the world. And as usual, I was plunged into contemplation about the origins of things and found myself asking: was the spiral conceived as a concept before people tried to draw it, or did various cultures imbue it with mystical properties after discovering it? Because a spiral is a very easy thing to draw, even though the creation of it seems a little magical. All you need is a fat round stick, a skinny pointed stick, a length of string (or vine or leather thong), and some smooth soft earth or sand. Tie one end of the string to the fat stick so that it doesn’t slip around, and poke the stick firmly into the earth. Tie the other end of the string to the skinny pointed stick and then, keeping the string fully extended, start drawing a circle using the center stick as a pivot point. If you have attached the string to the fat stick so that it doesn’t slip, it will start winding as you go around, and almost magically you will be describing a perfect spiral.

Of course spirals occur frequently in Nature, from small snail shells and the Nautilus, from plant tendrils and seed heads (such as the sunflower), from cobwebs and snake coils and the flight of hawks, from whirlpools and hurricanes, to the shape of galaxies. And it takes no feat of imagination to transfer this mathematical beauty to images of both inward and outward spiritual journeys.

Even Spike has some affection for this topic. When he throws himself down on the smooth hall floor like that, it’s an invitation to “spin” him in circles. He does seem to like it, although he wobbles when he walks after a good whirl. Whether or not he achieves any mystical connections from such a journey, he doesn’t say.

MAZES
by Lee Kirk

Six thousand years ago
the artisan of Gavr’inis
carved these joyous spirals
in this great slab of stone.
Superb as art, they still must be
regarded as inspired sentinels
guarding the tunnel
to that most ancient tomb;
mazes to lead the seeker
into the heart of infinity.

We are not surprised to find
that maze, that symbol, repeated
at every place and time that
humankind has pondered
the greatest mystery: Life,
and Death, and Life Beyond.

Petroglyph and pictograph,
carved or painted on the stone;
channels opened in the Earth,
or earth heaped up in sinuous mounds;
design on pots and leather,
or woven into cloth;
pathways and plantings
of boxwood or yew:
the message is the same.

I once read the clue:
make all your turnings to the left.

Or was it to the right?
I recall the words of the woman
(who would be startled by
the appellation “old”):
“If you’re being chased
by an elephant, make two
right-hand turns. The animal
will fall over, because elephants
are all left-footed.” Is that
some kind of key
to this amazing business?

Was it some archetypal cue
that prevented the patrol cop
(this related by his friend)
from ever making a left-hand turn?
“Even on an emergency
Code-4 call, he’d make three
right turns to avoid a left.”

In our darkest dreams, we run
through mazes with far too many
turns, and never any exit.
Our minds are riddled like the burrows of moles,
filled with tunnels
whose tall-tale threads
are tabled in our memory.

On Iron Mountain we discovered
inscrutable etchings in cold, damp earth.
Some ancient map? Ah, yes and no!
the tunnels of pocket gophers,
bottoms left, the tops dissolved
with the melting of the snow.

Animals and humans; we use
these labyrinths to confound
our enemies, to confront our fears.
What comes next we have yet
to learn, nor can we know
if the path of the maze
leads truly to the core.

The artist of Gavr’inis
carved his faith
in these ebullient sworls:
the joy of being alive,
in site of living in doubt.