Young Adult Catholics

As an undergraduate at John Carroll University in Cleveland, my friends and I had a somewhat odd habit.  We loved to walk the labyrinth on our campus.  It was something many students never even knew existed, but somehow it became a trusty old friend to us.  As an incoming student I can remember seeing the odd brick pattern outside one of the buildings, but I knew nothing about it until an older student introduced me to it.  I don’t remember why–maybe I was arguing with a roommate or just feeling down when he said, “Come on!  Let’s go for a walk!”  It was dark out and there weren’t many people around, so we walked around for awhile and ended up at the labyrinth.  As we walked the winding path and he explained to me what the labyrinth was and how an upperclassman had once showed him the labyrinth, I found myself forgetting my problems–at least for a little while–and relaxing.

Later I showed my new friends the labyrinth.  It worked its way into our lives, especially when someone was in need of a little quiet time or space away from others.  Sometimes we walked in silence, sometimes alone, sometimes talking quietly to one another.  We walked in the heat of summer and when the snow was melting in the winter.  We taught underclassmen about it whenever we could.  Walking the labyrinth really helped us cope.

The labyrinth wasn’t always a serious place for us, though.  Mostly, we hung out on the labyrinth after dark.  Sometimes people looked at us like we were crazy.  One time a large group of us sat there and ate food from Taco Bell, another time we ate really salty pretzels.  Sometimes we laughed the entire walk or ranted about how frustrated we were.  We usually walked to the center, sat around the “IHS” symbol in the middle, talked forever, and then decided whether or not we’d follow the winding path out.  Usually we did. . .but sometimes a commitment to our schoolwork made us take the fast way out.

When I left JCU and began to miss my labyrinth walks, I realized just how special this place had become for me.  I can think of few places that I want to go to when I feel any range of emotions–sad, confused, lost, happy, excited, silly, anything.   That’s what makes the labyrinth so special and such a spiritual place for me.  I don’t have to go there in a time of serious solitude or communal celebration.  It’s place I can just be me.  And that lets me feel closer to being the person God calls me to be.

As I get ready to move again in a couple months, I find myself longing to hang out at the labyrinth. It’s an old place of comfort.  I may not always find the answers I expect when I’m walking it, but I always come out feeling better than when I first walk onto the labyrinth.  A walk on the labyrinth with greasy food in hand and laughing friends nearby might just be the relaxation and sense of spirituality I need these days.