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Come Walk Janine's Labyrinth
"It
is solved by walking" - St. Augustine
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| ENTER THE LABYRINTH HERE |
This website is about my journey
into the heart of creativity, and hopefully will inspire yours. The metaphor is a Labyrinth,
because as I have come to believe, "every life is a journey". May yours be Blessed.
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ABOUT THE LABYRINTH
There is a universal confusion between what
is a labyrinth and what is a maze.
Clarification:
A Maze is a place designed to get you Confused and Lost.
A Labyrinth is a place designed to get you Clear and Found.
All our lives are labyrinths. Every step along the
way yields knoweldge and widsom, and is leading you to that centre, the centre that you are. It's a tool for
consciousness, to awaken awareness. To walk this labyrinth, you need to be present. And in being present,
conscious, aware, and being where you are in the moment, whatever is there for you is going to be available to you.
It is an act of self-discovery, of revelation. It promotes growth, it promotes change - if you are available. It
is an opening to the Self.
This "labyrinthine" site is dedicated to the discovery of Self. Janine's
explorations have led her down many paths, all leading to this one. Her metaphor of the labyrinth best represents
the process by which she discovered, created and expressed her many "findings" in various forms: poems, articles, conversations, books
in progress, plays, musings, and of course, questions.
The Labyrinth is for Everyone. It is a journey.
It is different for each person. There are no rules!
HAVE YOU
EVER WALKED A LABYRINTH?
Feel free to respond, and offer your own insights into the labyrinth using our
Contact. Some of your experiences may be featured in "Labyrinth Experiences".
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Of the genesis of birds we know nothing,
save the legend
they are descended
from reptiles: flying, snap-jaw lizards
that have somehow taken to air.
But what does it matter
anyway how they got up high. We are often far
from home in a dark town, and our griefs
are difficult to translate into a language
understood by others.
But still, it is
morning again, this day,
Look around. Perhaps it isn't too late
to make a fool of yourself
again. Perhaps it isn't too late
to flap your arms and cry out, to give
one more cracked
rendition of your singular, aspirant song.
Excerpted from the Poem
The Meaning of Birds by Charlie Smith's collection, "indistinguishable from the Darkness"
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