If you walk a labyrinth deep in the woods, the wind tossing the treetops around with their creaking and squeaking, them dancing and giggling, you can’t lock your eyes on the path.  Though circular, it is dependable.  You can’t get lost.  If you step over a line, you’ll either go back to the entrance or be secure in the center.

Keeping my eyes up to the laughing swirling goddess party around me, their pine cone jewelry falling off, gems of new worlds ready to tumble and root as the Ladies bend and reach, twist and turn.

But every day I must listen to Her voice and face the direction of Her bidding–Her words to type, Her voice to capture, Her Way to discover, even when the path seems to end.  I keep walking the road, the path, over the hill, through the bush and go back to check the map again and again if I must.  Every step of the Way is wondrous, even if it seems so familiar and sometimes redundant. 

I throw myself on the path of heaven.  The way is the destination, the walk is the gift, and with each step I indulge that She has Her Way with me.