So many times, I have stood just here...in the center of the circle that is the labyrinth...looking up into the face of this ridge of rock.
I always knew that the ground on which I stood was not holy ground...not really. It is earth...earth shaped by human intervention and the repeated course of specifically patterned human wanderings.
Left alone, it would revert to its former self...become what it once was...a mountain meadow.
There, I have asked the Supreme and Hovering Spirit to lead me, to be my guide.
There, I have sought an understanding that most often eludes me.
There, I have bowed my head into the attending sunlight and given thanks.
There, sometimes, I have known peace.
And this rocky ridge, changeable itself over time, has been a silent sentinel to my frequent walks there and to all of my words...words that join themselves to bird song and wind sighs and water music...
...and then are gone.