Press Release Archive (click here to go back)

004: April 2005

Cover : Log Bridge (acrylic on canvas)
By Carol Aust

The East Bay Monthly
April 2005 Issue

Feature:

Water Labyrinth

SpiritWalking:Turning a Corner

by Mike Rosen-Molina
 

For some it’s just a stroll. But for many walking a labyrinth is a journey inward, a path to God, or a tool for improved mental or physical well-being. Sacred to religious pilgrims for centuries, its circuitous pattern is found in nature, in space, in Native American basket weavings, Buddhist mandalas, and even in children’s games. Today, labyrinths are popular in the secular world: Public parks, swimming pools, hospitals, and even jails feature painted or inlaid labyrinths, paths that invite passersby to step in.

Those interested in Eastern meditation and healing say the seven circuit labyrinth design corresponds to the body’s seven chakras. And since a labyrinth can be a winding circuitous path, infinite variations exist.

Even the medium is up for interpretation. At the Berkeley YMCA one can circumnavigate a water labyrinth. For an animal that’s used to living on dry land, just entering the water can be a labyrinthine experience. “It’s consciously entering another element,” says Bett Lujan Martinez, designer of the water labyrinth. “As you dip your toe in the water you allow yourself to feel something very spiritual. You don’t need a complicated path.”

Martinez teaches classes in SpiritWalking™,” a discipline that combines traditional Eastern qigong, Buddhist, Judaic and Sufi movements with focused labyrinth walking.

Before class starts, Martinez or her staff set up the water labyrinth – two elongated polyurethane foam ovals arranged to form a figure eight infinity sign as they float on the surface of the swimming pool. The labyrinth is painted with the Chinese symbol for longevity.

Since walkers are moving in warm water, Martinez sees the water labyrinth as perfect for people who couldn’t normally withstand the rigors of a long labyrinth trek, such as the elderly, disabled, or people suffering from chronic pain.

Today, Martinez’s protégée, May Cotton, leads her first class, guiding a group of students in the YMCA’s shallow pool as an eclectic mix of Enya, Taiwanese qigong music, harp, flute, Judaic piano, and Native American music plays from a nearby boom box.

“Bring the energy up and let the old used-up energy out,” says Cotton, demonstrating. She slowly raises a hand to her head and flicks her wrist. “If you feel a desire to make a sound, do it.”

Students gently slosh through the water, performing qigong movements with names like “Eight Immortals Rowing” (they drag their fingertips along the water’s surface) and “Picking Peaches of Longevity” (they raise their arms up as if picking fruit off a tree) as they wade around and through the labyrinth. Several students make quick gasps. The ovals bob several feet apart, allowing several walkers to pass between them at once.

The class only lasts an hour, but something about it-whether the lilting music, the gentle rhythm of moving through eight, or a combination-seems to fill students with a new sense of well-being.

Alameda resident, Kate Barnett, suffers from autoimmune problems and started SpiritWalking™ at the YMCA six months ago. “In that time, I’ve gone form a wheelchair to a cane,” she says. I can barely walk, so I like the buoyancy of the water.”

Laurie Applebaum, from Oakland, walks to help with her neck and chest ailments. “I like the eternity of the walk, the eternity of the movements,” she says.

As the class winds down, the students gently spin in the water towards the edge of the pool and then float. They gradually come toward the center, pushing the two ovals together. Having focused the group on its own healing, Cotton tells participants to now send energy to others. Students call out the names of friends, relatives and tsunami victims as everyone chants.

“Ya Hakk, Ya Hayy,” they chant. “Oh truth, oh life.”

“This is a different kind of support than people talking about woes,” says Martinez. “Even though we’re not talking (to each other), you can feel some connection as you pass each other in the labyrinth. It’s like how redwood trees have shallow roots but they extend towards each other in a circle-almost connecting. As we go through the labyrinth we also paradoxically experience how we’re all connected.”