A Sense of Place - Labyrinthine Journeys

This blog entry provides further rationale for focusing on a sense of place in constructing a memoir and is a follow-up to the July 14 blog entry.  This “A Sense of Place” is adapted from my anticipated memoir introduction to LABYRINTHINE JOURNEYS: AN AUTOGEOGRAPHIC MEMOIR.

​“He not busy being born is busy dying.”
              - Bob Dylan in “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”

My first exposure to the labyrinth was at the Dominican Sisters’ convent in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  I was attending a workshop led by Don Goergen, O.P., a friar who was living in a Dominican ashram in Wisconsin at the time.  A canvas labyrinth created for indoor use was introduced as a part of the workshop.

 The first time I experienced an outdoor labyrinth was on a short vacation to my in-laws’ winter home in Delray Beach, Florida, where I also experienced a Tea Ceremony for the first time at Morikami Gardens.  Since then, I have “walked the labyrinth” (the colloquial expression for labyrinthine practice) in at least ten other locations, all outdoors. 
           
The labyrinth in Presque Isle, Michigan is very close to the home where  I  live.   During   winter months for a few years, I watched over the Episcopal boys camp where I had been a camper for four years and on the staff for three.  I enjoy walking the camp’s labyrinth, especially when the campus is empty of people, when one hears only sounds of nature.
           
It was only after I began researching the history of labyrinths that I began to seriously consider the metaphorical meanings of labyrinthine walking.  I spoke with one of my community’s resident Episcopal priests to obtain insights that led to more research and to today’s focus on labyrinthine walking as symbol for life’s various pursuits and experiences.
           
Labyrinths are quite different from mazes, although the general public often confuses the two.  Mazes have dead ends, labyrinths do not.  And since I have not yet hit a dead end in my life (except in a corn maze!), I find labyrinthine walking a more fitting metaphor than a maze would ever be for my life’s journeys.  This life’s journey has been dominated by various and sundry pursuits and like labyrinths has entrances and exits.  It has been characterized by searching, learning, finding, processing, and transforming. 
           
This [autogeographic memoir] will document those various life pursuits which in retrospect seem most significant to me now.  Each has different levels of intensity, with different routes toward and away from explorations at different times of my life and in different locations.  These pursuits have provided many opportunities for “being born”. It will be apparent to the reader that eight platforms of discovery and learning…eight categories, each with distinct places and notable events, provide the context of geography as an influence on my life and my life as an influence on selection of those geographic places.
​
                    Places of work             Places of luge involvement
                    Places of residence    Places of natural resources preservation and protection
                    Places of learning       Places of Indian subjugation – reservations
                    Places of art & craft   Places of exploration, introspection, and intention –
                                                                       botanical gardens
 
For using geography as a focus for one’s memoir, I owe a debt of gratitude to Rob Sullivan, retired geography professor from UCLA, who leads a City of  Port Townsend Library workshop about autogeography from which I benefited greatly.  
           
The use of map pins on each category’s map(s) might illustrate that “place” has an enormous influence on events in one’s life.  However, the places marked on maps herein will indicate only the “what”, and “where” of life.  The equally significant back stories behind each pin provide the “when”, “why”, and “how”.  I found these stories emerging from my memory and my subconscious by the placement of each pin.  The stories, some already published while others rest in my imagination, will provide the grist and substance, the emotional underpinning, of the significance of place in my life.