Spirals are found in every aspect of nature. They are seen in the unfurling of fern leaves, the shape of snail shells, the arrangement of flower pedals, the cochlea of the inner ear. Not just a simple circle, the path of the spiral changes levels as it grows or moves in time and space. In the science of nature, the spiral shape and path are how the life force energy moves.
Grief is a natural process too, one that our body, mind, and spirit are designed to do…if we can let go of what western culture has taught us that is not true about grieving. Thinking of grief as a series of steps, and stages is not a natural process, and offers no hint of how to accomplish the major task of grieving, which is to process our life experiences and determine what to cherish and hold dear, and find ways to remember always, and what to let go of that will no longer serve in the future, the person we are becoming.
The experience of walking the spiral path of a labyrinth is an example of the power of the spiral to help us access the non-linear, wholistic part of our brain that we need to call on in processing our grief experiences. I sometimes refer to it as “the part of us that’s smarter than we are. Twenty years ago, now during the time I was caregiver for my daughter who had undergone a bone marrow transplant at MD Anderson in Houston, I attended a Spirituality and Social Work Conference in Austin. The conference organizers had set up an indoor canvas version of a spiraling labyrinth in a gymnasium space in the building where the conference was being held.
I knew that labyrinths offer the opportunity for quieting the mind, encouraging meditation, and enhancing creativity, so after I did my presentation, I set out to walk the labyrinth. Walking on the single winding path from the outer edge in a circuitous way and arriving at the center, I paused for a few minutes. As the instructions suggested, I let go of the responsibility for my daughter’s wellbeing that I had been carrying. I said to myself, “I release my daughter Corinne into the hands of God.” This brought tears to my eyes at the time, as it does now as I type these words.
Then to exit the spiral I walked the same path out as I had walked coming in. The moment my feet left the canvas surface and I stepped onto the wooden gymnasium floor, I heard a voice, “We are the hands of God.”
And all the people who had been helping my daughter and her family by delivering meals, and carpooling the children to school events, sports practices, and games, and standing in for me when I needed respite as her caregiver came to mind. I saw their smiling faces and with the deepest of gratitude, I knew that the message I had heard was true.
