Part of my mission in coming to Tasmania was to meet Gill Brame, one of the people responsible for building the Katoomba community labyrinth. In 2004, she and a group of friends were meditating in the garden to elicit a sense of what to next create there. The word labyrinth came to Gill. She had encountered one previously in Mullumbimby but didn’t have much knowledge of them. Over the ensuing years, with hundreds of hours of volunteer labour, the labyrinth evolved on the site that had previously held a medicine wheel, in to the brick and mosaic beauty that exists today. It was completed in 2006.
Gill is a Bowen therapist who works with horses. One of her dreams is to incorporate the labyrinth in to this work. For an awe inspiring example of horses walking a labyrinth have a look at the video on Youtube from the TLS gathering in New Harmony, Indiana, 2010.
Among the gratifying aspects of this journey have been linking people to labyrinths, to each other and to their dreams. I remembered recently that when I trained in a process called passion mapping many years ago an image came to me of the labyrinth as a magic carpet upon which I was riding. In so many ways that has come to fruition in the last 10 months. I love the way things can bubble away in our subconscious only to emerge years later and in unexpected forms.
The second was drier and more exposed. The sheep had to be moved to the next paddock. Getting accosted by the ram would have been a first.
The labyrinth patterns on Mark’s land include Chartres and Angel Wing as well as a couple of processional patterns where you walk in on one side, in to the centre, then out the other side. I really enjoyed the symbolism of these as you’re not going back over old territory as you walk out. They also allow an easier flow when conducting ritual with a group of people. It was fascinating how the labyrinths that were mown into the long grass were more visible in the muted light of dusk and dawn. The rest of the time they were hiding in plain sight.
On my last morning on Bruny I saw one of the most resplendent sunrises I have ever experienced. I woke to a reddish tinge in the clouds and was on the verge of rolling over and trying to go back to sleep. Fortunately I rose instead and walked through the grassland toward the still waters and oyster leases of Adams Bay. Over the ensuing minutes the colour of the sky just kept getting deeper and deeper. The entire scene was perfectly reflected in the water.
Orange, red and gold gave way to a deep blue streaked with pink. Five minutes later everything reverted to ordinary, dull early morning light: nothing to see here. That complete and utter disappearance really heightens for me the privilege of witnessing such an event from the early hints, to the full-on glory, to the fading to nothing. Never to be repeated.