One Mile in My Shoes

"The labyrinth is a reminder that even in chaos there is a path that leads to harmony."


The classic eleven-circuit labyrinth design

Pilgrims of the Middle Ages who could not make the journey to Jerusalem during their lifetime could reach Jerusalem in spirit by walking a labyrinthine path which came to be called “The Jerusalem Mile.” These labyrinths were built in monasteries and were designed according to hidden symbolisms, sacred geometry, and other mathematical representations.

Few of these original labyrinths remain in the world because they were intentionally destroyed or removed over the last 800 years or so.  The most classic labyrinth, to which people still make pilgrimage, is in the Chartres Cathedral near Paris, France. It dates to the year 1220.

I learned through happenstance – the most fun way to learn things – about an exact replica of the Chartres labyrinth, in pattern and dimension and everything else, located at an old monastery in Richmond, Virginia.  The center and final stone of it was laid on June 13, 2008.

Jefferson, Washington, and Lafayette may have walked here

"Richmond Hill," which used to be called Monte Maria of Church Hill, is the highest point in Richmond. It is home to a monastery that was built in 1866 out of two already existing pre-Civil War mansions. They say that Thomas Jefferson stayed in one of the two houses, and that George Washington and Lafayette attended dances there in pre-revolutionary times. When the Civil War ended and the mansions were left nearly destroyed, a group of young nuns were sent there with the directive from their Bishop to pray for the protection and rebuilding of this city which had once been the capital of the Confederacy. Those brave nuns and several generations of acolytes who followed them lived there until 1987 when the monastery was officially closed because the aging nuns were no longer able to care for it. Almost auctioned off for condominiums, it was saved by a group of diverse people who insisted that someone still needed to pray for Richmond. And so it was renovated and reopened by an eclectic group of religious leaders and other concerned people as a place to benefit those from all backgrounds who seek spiritual renewal.  

I can’t begin to understand much less explain the significance of the labyrinth which somehow speaks symbolically to our collective subconscious at a level where language is no longer the mode of communication. The most universally known labyrinth existed 3,500 years ago on the Greek island of Crete – home of the mythical Minotaur. But even before that, simple labyrinths were carved onto stone surfaces throughout the world.


Simply put, the rosette pattern in the center symbolizes enlightenment – and the path to getting there is circuitous and chaotic. The symmetry and complex geometric design, the symbolism, the eleven circuits divided into four quadrants, the perplexing puzzle of it all – that is an intellectual pursuit. For this, the Guestmaster at Richmond Hill recommended a book, Exploring the Labyrinth: A Guide for Healing and Spiritual Growth by Melissa Gayle West.  But the experience is in walking it.  The labyrinth is made to be traveled.

Even a small-scale model can be traveled, either visually or with the fingertip. Kinesthetic sensations will be aroused using the finger to trace over a sketch of the classic labyrinth – bringing the rhythm of it to life in our psyches and offering spiritual direction.

There's no wrong way to begin the walk . . . 

I stood in the center of the rosette pattern of the labyrinth on Richmond Hill, a spot which boasts a 270 degree view of the City of Richmond, trying to figure out my strategy for completing this puzzle walk. There is no right or wrong way to walk the labyrinth. There’s no particular starting point or ending point. You can’t get lost. It’s a thing to be done intuitively. I traced with my eye where each strategy of footstep might lead me. I wasn’t sure how to begin. If I had been in charge, I would have started at the center and systematically walked in concentric manner along each yellow brick, carefully winding myself to the outer edges, always knowing where I was going, until I could say that I had walked the Jerusalem Mile in its entirety. But the pathways just aren't set up that way.

And so, tired of my own thinking, I picked at random a brick in back of me on which to start my journey. This is a real mess.  That was my first impulsive thought as I saw my footsteps going to places I didn’t want to go . . . but then a twist made me go somewhere else . . . and a turn made me wind back . . . and another loop put me in the center . . . and so on and so forth. Not a single step went according to my plan. 

. . . and one should stop often to reflect and meditate

That’s life, I thought, and I sort of gave in and stopped along the way to take pictures of where my feet were planted and of how the sun shown either brightly on them or not at all – and also how the perspective changed as the breeze rustled tree branches above me, causing the sun to come and go – and how clouds did the same thing. I captured many of these pictures – not sure why I did so.  It’s the not knowin’ that makes it interestin’ . . . that’s what Eeyore says to Winnie the Pooh in unpredictable times, and I thought of this phrase as I walked the labyrinth. I occasionally looked up from my pathway to the cityscape beyond me, suddenly realizing in my heart that a war had once ravaged this city. I never comprehended such a thing before, and I thought that was a strange insight to receive. 



The City today as seen from Richmond Hill

When I finished walking the mile, still not sure what I had done or even accomplished, I sat on one of the stone benches along the spiny rim of this old monastery that seems to hang on a cliff overlooking Richmond’s Shockoe Valley and “Hell’s Half Acre” where slaves had long ago been auctioned like cattle. Perhaps those young nuns sat on these same high benches, I thought – for I could feel their presence and the chaos they must have endured when looking out over the post-war desolation and thinking of the directive they had been given – to pray for the rebuilding of Richmond – not knowing how it could ever be accomplished – and the James River that flowed unconcernedly through it all – then, as now.