Labyrinth Reflections

This morning, three kindred souls embarked on a sacred walk to the labyrinth, weaving our energies together like threads in a cosmic tapestry. We met in the parking lot outside Bistro Menil, gathering as members of the Houston Sacred Women Community, a space where our spirits had intertwined virtually but now found resonance in person. Our journey began with an unspoken knowing—before stepping forward, we needed to honor the ancient wisdom of the land. A magnificent live oak stood before us, its gnarled branches whispering secrets of time. We encircled its immense trunk, stretching our arms until our fingertips brushed, forming an unbroken chain of reverence. With hearts open and spirits grounded, we continued onward.

As we meandered through Menil Park, we passed a circle of meditators beneath another grand oak, their silent stillness a reflection of our own inward contemplation. Though tempted to join them, our feet felt called to continue, leading us towards the University of St. Thomas. Along the way, we paused to admire the sacred artistry of religious statues and murals—manifestations of devotion captured in stone and color.

At last, we reached our destination: the labyrinth. Nestled within a tranquil garden beside a chapel crowned with a golden dome, its entrance beckoned us inward. A white wall bore a large embedded cross, while a dark structure stood with two smaller bells above a single, larger bell below—symbols rich with meaning, their echoes carrying through time. One by one, we stepped into the labyrinth’s sacred geometry, surrendering to the rhythm of the path.

As I moved inward, each step became an act of release. I carried with me the wisdom gleaned from the Oracle and Tarot readings of the previous night’s New Moon and Solar Eclipse gathering. My hands held seven crystals, each aligned with the chakras, each a vessel for transformation. A large fluorite palm stone absorbed the weight of negative energy, transmuting it into clarity. Golden Healer reached deep, unearthing wounds to bathe them in light. Moonstone cradled my worries, whispering promises of intuition and renewal. Honeycomb ruby dismantled the walls of fear and self-doubt, infusing me with resilience. Charoite swept away stagnant emotions, reigniting the flame of determination. Tiger’s eye shattered limiting beliefs, unveiling the vast potential within. A smaller fluorite piece acted as both anchor and wings, releasing past trauma and ushering in profound growth. At each turn, I placed these stones, marking my passage with intention. As I emerged from the labyrinth’s heart, I gathered them back, infused now with the energy of my rebirth.

Near the labyrinth, three stone circles cradled bubbling fountains, their waters mirroring the essence of the three of us—cleansing, renewing, and awakening. It felt as though the universe itself acknowledged our presence, affirming our shared journey of healing and empowerment. With gratitude, we retraced our steps, pausing to marvel at a thriving community garden, a testament to the cycles of growth and renewal that mirrored our own paths.  As we walked, a revelation arose: each of us carried a book within us, waiting to be written, yearning to be birthed. A pact was formed, a commitment to hold space for one another, to midwife these creations into being.

Our journey led us to the Toasted Coconut, where we indulged in nourishment for both body and soul. The outdoor seating—soft white-cushioned wooden chairs nestled in sun-warmed sand—felt like a sanctuary. We held our crystals once more, tracing their contours as we traced the contours of our dreams.

The common threads between us wove themselves into a pattern of undeniable purpose. We were sacred space holders, women who had walked through fire and emerged bearing the wisdom to guide others. Our hearts beat with a shared longing—to cultivate community, to nurture growth, to weave magic into the fabric of existence. In that space of sand and sunlight, we gave voice to our visions, offering one another support and encouragement, sealing our bond with a three-way embrace.

Our journey concluded where it began, at the Menil, but not before a final pause in the bookstore. Surrounded by the musings of artists and visionaries, we spoke of our own artistry, recognizing that creation, in its many forms, is the language of the soul. With hearts full and spirits ablaze, we parted ways, knowing this was not an ending, but a beginning. We carried with us the echoes of our laughter, the warmth of our shared dreams, and the certainty that our paths, now intertwined, would continue to unfold in divine alignment.