The Labyrinth Realization

As Vera stood at the threshold of the labyrinth in the hospital courtyard, she recalled when she first met Charles thirty years before. In 1990, "It's Only Lunch" had just launched as a way for singles to meet over a meal. When Vera asked her date about the hobby on his profile, the bearded, lanky, serious-looking man shared his passion.

"A labyrinth is not the same as a maze," said Charles. By design, mazes confuse and have more than one pathway. You can actually get lost." His deep voice resonated as if we were giving one of his math lectures at the university." Labyrinths, on the other hand, create mental clarity and have only one way in and out. Did you know they've existed for over 4,000 years, and ancient ones exist worldwide?"

"No, I didn't. Tell me more," Vera said as she self-consciously tapped her too-long nose. His exuberance allowed embers of hope to stir within her that she had met an earnest man who prized the past and didn't know the names of sports teams. As an avid birder and historical fiction reader, Vera understood Charles's zeal and hoped their connection would extend beyond lunch. When they left the restaurant, his hand guided the small of her back, sending a tingle down her spine, and she knew a second date was in the offing.

Today, Charles suggested Vera walk the hospital's labyrinth during his surgery because he wanted her to be empowered and not worry, and she agreed. She found the path tucked away in a peaceful courtyard surrounded by bamboo and Japanese maple trees. A fountain dripped, adding a calming ambiance. Vera wanted to do the process just right, as Charles had taught her. "Remembrance" was the first step, which she completed by recalling their first meeting.

Before crossing the threshold into the labyrinth, Vera needed to form a question, but she couldn't stop trembling despite the mild spring day. A Mama Robin caught her attention as it chirped to its fledgling, likely still in the nest. Vera brought her hands together in the prayer position and took two large cleansing breaths. Her shoulders relaxed, and her pounding heart waned. 

"My purpose is to accept the uncertainty of this moment," she thought. Vera placed her right heel of her sensible shoe on the path and rolled it forward. She extended her arms to maintain balance as the heel of her left shoe kissed her right shoe's toe. She had begun her journey toward strength, peace, and perhaps, an answer to the question she was reluctant to articulate—"How do I go on if Charles doesn't make it?"

Although her over-charged mind was supposed to be quiet during this "release stage" of walking on the path, Vera's past intervened. She recalled their trip to France when they argued about how to spend their last day. Vera wanted to relax at the beach and soak up the beauty of the Côte d'Azur, but Charles discovered one more ancient site to visit, which meant traveling all day. He relented, and she felt his love. To break his sulking, she drew a simple labyrinth in the sand while he napped and led him to it when he awakened. He laughed so loud when he saw it that his straw hat fell off, tumbling in the sand. Vera found joy in peering smiles under his beard bristles.

Bird chirping reverted Vera back to the present moment. The baby robin took a leap of faith from the nest and landed in the bushes next to a Japanese maple. Mama Robin swooped in to join her charge and rewarded the baby bird with a worm. 

Vera progressed methodically through the labyrinth. Unlike the simple three-circuit one that she had etched in the sand in France, this one had eleven circuits like the famous one in Chartres. As she sauntered through the narrow passageway that reminded her of brain folds, her eyes darted toward the elusive center. Although it seemed she was getting close, the path veered her further away again. Vera's stomach roiled with a mix of panic and hope about Charles's condition. Hope, she felt, was a dual-edged sword because if fate dashed it, reality's stab would be deeper.

Thinking of Charles and being at this hospital reminded Vera of her past medical journey with breast cancer. At first, Charles wrestled with the math of the situation, "You only had a 12.5% chance of getting this, and you exercise and eat well—how can this be?" After the shock, he helped shepherd her through the physical and mental pain when her family failed to rise to the moment. "Charles was there for me," she thought as she placed her right hand over her prosthesis where her left breast had been.

"At last," Vera said aloud. She reached the center where she would reflect and "receive" the labyrinth's magic. The clouds obliged and parted for the sun to appear, warming Vera as she raised her arms in the yoga mountain pose to salute the radiance. Although the sun heated her body, her mind remained cluttered and doubting, with no clear resolve. "Aren't I supposed to have the answers now that I'm here?" she screamed in her head. Then, she recalled Charles had encouraged her to linger and be patient in the center. 

Vera struggled to remember the question she had posed at the labyrinth's threshold. She paced around in the center's circle, waiting for a sign or an epiphany. A large, black crow cawed from a bamboo limb. Although an admirer of crows, Vera knew its presence brought danger to the fledgling, having witnessed bird-on-bird savagery before. Although she held crows in high esteem for their facial recognition and intelligence and admitted Mama Crow had her own mouths to feed, Vera flailed her arms and shouted, "No, not now! Not on my watch." The crow flew off, and Mama Robin glided into the bushes. 

With the avian commotion behind her, Vera remembered her labyrinth journey began with the desire to accept uncertainty. And then it occurred to her that Charles's brain cancer was already there. It was possible to extricate it or not. The surgery would be successful or not. He would survive or not. "I am powerless to change any of that," she thought. Vera bowed her head in resignation as the clouds covered the sun. A sloshing sound diverted her, and she followed the splash to the water fountain, where Mother Robin took a bath. The sight of birds bathing never ceased to delight her, even now, "a lesson, perhaps," she pondered.

Vera's body told her to exit the labyrinth even before her mind did. This was the final stage of the process—"the return," in which she would integrate her journey. Vera placed one foot in front of the other with purpose and deliberation. Charles's words to her on that first day echoed in her mind, "Labyrinths have only one way in and out."

"There's no getting around a problem, only through it," she said to herself.

Soon, Vera returned to the place where she had started, the end of the path, and then she stopped. Her life would change the moment she stepped outside of the labyrinth. She raised her head up as if to look for the sun, but it eluded her. Vera took a big breath and exhaled slowly, returning her head back down. That's when she saw Charles's surgeon opening the door to the courtyard. 

Vera stood frozen on the precipice of the labyrinth's exit, attempting to read the doctor's body language. He plodded toward her as if trudging against a gale-force wind, his shoulders slumped with his gaze downward. His head shook almost imperceptibly. 

An invisible force softly touched the small of Vera's back, as Charles had done on that first date. That nudge reassured her. Vera took the next step to face the doctor to learn the truth, which she believed she already knew.