Stu Jenks

Chapter 8: Grace St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Tucson, Arizona: Labyrinth Walk, 1997

The Sexton was nice enough to put up an extension ladder. I climbed onto the roof of the Parish Hall, that overlooks the maze. The Sun’s going down fast. Gordon and Judy, the two priests at Grace St. Paul's, have OK'd my shooting the Thursday Evening Labyrinth Walk. The parishioners have just arrived, about ten in all. From the roof, I tell the walkers I'm going to shoot their meditation this evening.

"And don't worry if you're shy and don't like your picture taken," I say. "I'm using real long shutter speeds so everyone will be a blur. That OK?"

"Sure that's fine," one woman says, others nodding their approval. But one woman walks to the side.

"Really, you can walk the Labyrinth. No one will know who you are," I say.

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t return to the circle until much later.

Judy, the facilitator of the Walk, explains to the congregation how this works.

"One by one, we'll enter the labyrinth and

begin to walk," she says. "You can have a prayer or a question in your mind, or you can just empty your mind. You can walk it fast or slow. There is no right or wrong way. I would just suggest that you stay as much in the moment as you can. Just be in the Labyrinth. And when you reach the center, stop for as long as you like, and then walk back out. And don't worry about bumping into each other or passing each other in the Labyrinth. It's really easy to pass and it’s OK to touch each other."

Some people chuckle.

"Also, I suggest you walk silently. All right, let's start."

Judy presses play on a nearby boom box and