While at the Chautauqua Institution (www.ciweb.org) last week, I sought out the labyrinth at the edge of the 750-acre campus. The weather was hot and dry, the walk long, and I got lost more than once. By the time I found the spot, I was in desperate need of release and reflection.

This was my third time in an outdoor labyrinth. (Based in ancient cultures, labyrinths are offered today as a tool for clearing the mind and centering the spirit.) And it was my second time to feel more frustrated when I came out than when I went in. Round one was here in Nashville. The labyrinth was marked by thin, slate-like material, and every time I put down one foot or the other I heard cracking noises and sensed a shifting of the ground. Several friends were with me and they reported similar uneasiness. I was so busy concentrating on where I should step that I forgot to relax my body and empty my mind. (I hear this particular labyrinth has been reworked for easier navigation, so I will check it out and let you know.)

Round two was more productive, in that the labyrinth was pristine and well defined. It didn’t hurt that the setting, a retreat center in Litchfield, Connecticut, was lovely…bordered by stone fences and silence.

Now for round three, at Chautauqua. I haven’t found a more idyllic spot on earth than this bit of western New York State, so I was primed and ready when I ventured past the tennis courts toward the newly designed labyrinth. I use the word “designed” loosely here, because the grass was overgrown, the flag markers askew, and the rows barely distinguishable one from another. (I submit as evidence the attached picture.) The flags reminded me of those markers put out by pest control folks warning you to keep your dogs away from the sprayed areas. I tried twice and then sat down on a nearby bench under a tree and did my meditating there instead. Whatever it takes.

You might think such frustration defeats the purpose of walking a labyrinth, and you might be right. But persist I must, meandering these elaborate circles when I encounter them, ever in search of center.