Last week, I was asked where I saw myself in five or ten years. Questions like these have always been scary for me partly because I don’t want to miss out on the moment I’m living in right now by dwelling too much on the future, but also because I haven’t yet mustered the courage to acknowledge the edge of uncertainty looming before me; what is God calling me to do? How can I make a difference? Where do I go from here? How am I supposed to live my life?
As we walked a labyrinth last night at vespers, I was thinking about these questions, trying to figure out what I’m doing with my life. At first, I was lost in the slight anxiety that comes with having no idea of what the future holds. But as the gentle swish swish of my jeans against the floor accompanied my careful, methodical steps along the winding path, I was steadily overcome by a gentle calm. I realized that all this time, I’ve been looking at my life as a maze where I must make careful decisions at every crossroad and a wrong turn can ruin everything. I’d seen it as a world where there is one right way to do things and some people are more successful or efficient at living their lives than others. But I’d much rather think of life as a labyrinth where there’s only one path to follow, but people experience it differently depending on where they are along that path. As I walk a labyrinth, I’m not sure exactly where I’ll end up along the way, but I trust the creator of the labyrinth to guide me to the center. No matter how many twists and turns I take or how unlikely it seems that I’ll ever get anywhere, there is always a purpose to the path and it will always lead me to where I’m meant to be—and where I’m meant to be is right where I am. Labyrinths are spaces of moments, where the place I am right now is more important than where I have been or will be, it’s a space without anxiety, of breathing out and breathing in, and a space without notions of progress or achievement. It’s a leveling field that recognizes our individual differences in where we are in our lives, but also brings us together as we walk in parallel, turning at the same moment before going our separate ways. It’s the easiest maze we’ll ever see and that is such a relief.
Of course, the questions I brought to the labyrinth are still hanging there unanswered, but they don’t scare me as much anymore. The journey of finding the answers to those questions is much more important than the answers themselves and I know that this confusing, winding path will lead me where God is calling me to be. I just need to have faith, placing one foot in front of the other, breathing out, and breathing in.