What once was used to imprison a mythological Greek monster with the head of a bull and the body of a man is now more commonly used as a means for quiet meditation.
The life of a labyrinth, indeed, has changed.
A labyrinth is a flat path with a circuitous route, usually with an intricate design, that leads one to the center of the pattern, and back out again.
Unlike a maze, a labyrinth has no dead ends, no obstructions and requires no active thought to navigate – and that, for many, is part of its appeal.
Labyrinths, either as structures built on the ground or depicted as rock art, date back to the earliest inhabitance of humans. The origin of the ancient pattern, however, is generally regarded as lost to time.
However, it would be fair to say the first major literary reference to labyrinths occurs in the tales of Homer, a Greek poet who lived sometime between the 12th and 8th centuries B.C.
In one of the more well-known Greek myths, King Minos charges the skilled craftsman Daedalus to build a labyrinth to contain Minotaur, a half-man, half-bull beast.
Daedalus, as the story goes, successfully constructs one of the most complex structures known to man, so much so that the creator himself has difficulty navigating his way out. King Minos, perhaps not the best mythological figure at showing appreciation, ends up locking Daedalus and his son, Icarus, in a tower so that the secret of the labyrinth’s escape would never be revealed.
Yet over the years, the twisting pathway came to represent something more tame and spiritual, as the pleasing visual symmetry started to appear on mosaic floors in churches and in public spaces for passers-by to enjoy.
At Chartres Cathedral in France, for instance, a labyrinth on the church floor, believed to have been constructed sometime in the 13th century, was walked on bended knees by those who could not afford to make the pilgrimage to the Holy Land.
And that same design can now be found at the labyrinth at Mercy Regional Medical Center in Durango.
In the late 20th century, labyrinths took a dramatic turn, rediscovered by a new generation of users who see the design as an archetype for healing, prayer and exercise.
“The benefits are myriad,” said David Gallagher, executive director of the Labyrinth Society. “If they (someone who walks a labyrinth) can find something that resonates spiritually, it can really transform their lives.”
Gallagher said at this point, research about the benefits of labyrinths is pretty much nonexistent, so any conjecture about the walking path’s benefits are purely anecdotal.
Yet, he said, he’s heard countless “amazing stories.”
Alzheimer’s patients whose symptoms temporarily diminish; a third-grade child in New England, considered mute, talking after walking a labyrinth; an oncology nurse sending a patient’s family to find a moment’s peace in a labyrinth.
“It’s not something we understand,” Gallagher said. “Yet very often, you’ll find a common thread, that there’s something very troubling and challenging in someone’s life, then they have a positive experience from walking one.”
In Durango, labyrinths open to the public can be found in two places: at Mercy and outside St. Mark’s Episcopal Church on East Third Avenue near Ninth Street.
Lurie Owen, a Bayfield resident who is training to become a labyrinth facilitator, said the walking path, which was installed in 2010 at St. Mark’s, was the brainchild of a former reverend.
Now, anyone walking down Durango’s historic East Third Avenue is invited to take a few moments out of his or her day to walk the path.
At Mercy, the 11-circuit labyrinth, which if walked both in and out would total three-quarters of a mile, was installed in 2006 when the hospital opened.
“It was just a dream to have a nice, peaceful place for folks for mediation, prayer, to be in nature and reflect,” said Stephanie Dial, with the hospital’s spiritual care department. “Because a hospital, of course, can be really stressful.”
Dial said the labyrinth is open to the public during normal visiting hours, but for patients and their families, the walking path provides a special service.
“It’s a place to get fresh air and be near the waterfall in quiet,” she said. “It’s a real nurturing thing for the body, mind and spirit.”
In 2011, the hospital built a garden around the labyrinth, complete with flowers, trees and a waterfall.
“There are so many effects that it can have,” said Owen, who teaches labyrinth workshops around the area that focus on the paths’ history, use and construction. “Because you don’t have to think about where you’re going, your mind can function on its own thoughts.”
Owen said other labyrinths can be found in Aztec, Dolores and Pagosa Springs, as well as a few others that are temporarily installed. Yet she’d like to see more public labyrinths.
She even said tabletop and hand-held labyrinths are becoming more common. She added that patterns known as double-labyrinths have been shown to help children with autism, which is believed by some health experts, to balance both sides of the brain when walking and turning the path.
But ultimately, Owen said the effect labyrinths have are different for each person.
“When I have a dilemma, I’ll walk into a labyrinth and have some realizations that make me think a different way,” Owen said. “But it’s not always transformative for everyone. But even if all you get out of it is a nice walk, it’s a good experience.”
jromeo@durangoherald.com
