I was told it would stay. I thought it would be safe. And I don't know why I was surprised. Shocked, really. But, this Labyrinth Gal, a member of The Labyrinth Society, who created a BEAUTIFUL backyard labyrinth she tended for 7 years, who wrote a CD based on the labyrinth, created a labyrinth website, who facilitates seminars based on the labyrinth, creates walking labyrinth canvases and paints labyrinth art...this gal is grieving the loss--
no-- the hateful destruction, of her labyrinth.
I could have dismantled it. I thought I had time. Last Friday I had to go back to WV to get things that were "forgotten" from my checklist. (Oh, you mean you wanted ALL the parts of the bed frame)? And when I went to walk the labyrinth, there was nothing there. And then I found it: the pile of rocks, gravesite of my labyrinth at the edge of the woods. I picked through rocks looking for my favourites. And then there she was: my labyrinth angel in the debris. Her wing tip broken, but still blowing a kiss. The angel I had asked about and was told another "I Told You." I told you to get your angels out of the yard. That's right, stupid angels! All ONE of them left after the rest had been mysteriously decapitated--blamed on the weed wacker.
The labyrinth was a reward to myself for having lived without septic for 6 months. The septic company was family-owned and I stood there with the 3 brothers as they surveyed the yard. And I am NOT making this up, they were the BUTTS BROTHERS. It's a common name in the area, perfect for a septic company...or proctologists. For 6 months I washed dishes in a work sink that drained into a five gallon bucket that I emptied in the woods. I went to the laundry mat for the whole family. Afterall, I grew up in a dome, I can weather this.
And when the new septic went in, they cleared the woods in the backyard. And there was the perfect place to put it. When I first built it, there was a majestic tree that stood almost in the center, but a bulldozer had grazed some of the bark. It only had one branch that was green with leaves. So I muscle checked what healing modality it needed. And then dutifully stood at the base of the tree with a tuning fork. There, I thought. Now it will get better. And the tree died. And that's when I learned that sometimes healing comes not in life, but in death.
I knew every rock, every turn of the labyrinth. I loved it through the seasons and the years. On my CD I talk about how one spring I came out to see hundreds of violets blooming on the path. What a GLORIOUS site that was! And once I found a four leaf clover. I have a knack for that. I gathered plants and made labyrinth tea before I mowed every week: dandelion, red raspberry leaf, clover...Once as I was sitting in the center, I looked up to see a speckled fawn just on the perimeter. And whenever I walked, through snow or a summer's day, my cat Vixen would come join me. I have such happy memories and I am so grateful. It has been my creative inspiration, a place of peace, and a source of JOY.
And now I'm gone, and it's gone and it doesn't matter. That house doesn't deserve my labyrinth.
It's easy to hide behind a "real estate agent" and say that there isn't a market for that kind of "rock garden." It was more than a rock garden. But then, pearls before swine prolly just look like pebbles.