Knowing where to place the labyrinth–often the little labyrinth when traveling from place to place–has become, I believe, an act of discernment. I don’t always get this right, but it’s tempting to want to stop and lay out the labyrinth’s footprint in what for me are especially photogenic places–beside a giant cactus, overlooking a dramatic landscape, having the Hollywood sign as a backdrop (though I didn’t actually see this). However, this usually doesn’t feel right for where the labyrinth should go. It must go where it’s meant to–not where I think it should.

Yesterday was a case in point. While en route between Bakersfield and Arroyo Grande, I’d taken a diversion to enjoy the spectacular vitas of Carrizo Plain. Here there are several salt or soda lakes, and I stopped overlooking one, to briefly breathe in the fresh air and open my heart to the resonance of birdsong.

“Should I lay the labyrinth here?” I pondered. Surely, after a good fifty miles or so since the labyrinth’s last stop, this was the place to rest awhile.

“Not here,” came the answer. “Just be, just enjoy.”

And so I did.

Later, I pondered one possible reason why the labyrinth was not meant to be. This was right on the San Andreas Fault–the very lake I was looking at was sinking, being consumed by the Earth. Scarps and ridges were evident for miles around; the lake itself, I imagine, a sag pond.

Perhaps there was some geomantic reason why the labyrinth was not meant to be here–a clash of energies, perhaps, a place where my “acupuncture for the Earth” wasn’t needed, a presence that might in some way interfere with Gaia’s work?

Further away from the main fault line, I did find a place where there seemed a “right” place for the labyrinth, close to where cows were freely grazing.

I hope that the labyrinth’s footprints are going where they are meant to–being sensitive to what seems right is a continuing learning for me, but sometimes the “Not Here”! message is perfectly clear.

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