Study Leave IV

Joe was in the kitchen this morning, making oatmeal for the sisters, and now for me. He’s here because there are others, retreating. They’ll be eating later. I slipped out the back door into the cold after saying hello to him.



Chain link now spans the east of the property. There’s less of it, property that is, than before the storm. The fence keeps wanderers like me from the new cliff, ten feet down to the beach. Not today. I squeezed around the end and walked along the edge. The soil up top is frozen and firm ground supporting grass and shrubs. The sea took sand and stones and bulkheads, but it also took land, dirt, claiming that which we walk on and plant in, and depend on. The cliff is reddish in the predawn light, jagged and draped with boards, pipes, broken shrubs, stones, floats, plywood, a sign or two, and a cluster of tennis balls. I studied that one for a minute, wondering what club was invaded by a non-member. I doubt Sandy paid dues or dressed appropriately. How dare she come all the way up here where she doesn’t belong? It’s a bit frightening not to be in control of the ground we walk on. I considered clambering down to the sand, but continued on, squeezing around the other end of the fence. We’ll save that adventure for a warmer moment.



Cupped between birms is a labyrinth, different colored paving stones laid down, inviting a journey toward…? Perhaps that’s the point of the maze, to provide an opportunity to discover the value of wandering. There is no prize at the center. There are no awards or affirmations. There is only following the path, discovering dead ends and switchbacks until it is solved. This one was laid out to be a journey of prayer. Its tangle leads toward letting go of any agenda other than openness and acceptance. I stood at its beginning. I’d done that yesterday as well, and made the same choice, not to answer its invitation.



I live in a labyrinth, curling in upon myself, choosing paths toward… Just now I would rather wander without paths. Standing there in the rosy light, I was glad to choose other. Soon enough I would be back, considering the twists and turns of each day’s living. Just now, I’ll thank the maker for this moment when I can turn away from those demands and walk back to the kitchen for company, some hot oatmeal, and perhaps a scone.