From 1/8/8
Willow was sick over the holidays. This is the first morning in a long time that she joined me out in the labyrinth. The morning was balmy; I was in shirt sleeves, enjoying the warm breeze blowing in a new sense of inner peace and calm.

From 12/24/07
Willow hadn’t been coming to the labyrinth for a while. This morning I entered with a different energy than usual—dancing (a la Chocolat)—and she ran through a portion of the labyrinth, like a kitten playing, chasing an unseen friend.

My cat companion Pollux never walked my backyard labyrinth. Shortly after her arrival in my life, my most recent cat companion, Willow, followed me right in. Other mornings she went her own way. Some people do not respond to labyrinths at all, and some only want to walk them occasionally. There have been periods of time during which I didn’t feel drawn to the labyrinth, but eventually it has always called me back.

In September of 2007 Pollux, my cat companion of 19 years, died. After buryiing him in my back yard next ro his brother under the butterfly bush overlooking my labyrinth, I walked the labyrinth and swear I heard the bell on Pollux’ collar tinkling as he walked with me in spirit.

Unexpectedly, by October I had a new cat companion, named Willow. One of her first mornings with me, she joined me in the labyrinth. She walked the first couple of turns and then sat there, waiting for me to double back and pet her as I passed. I was delighted to do so.

A few days later, Willow once again followed me into the labyrinth and, as I made the first turn, she continued straight ahead to the center, where she sat and waited patiently for me to reach her.

Sometimes we can do that—begin a new enterprise and fly straight to the center—bull’s eye. More often, though, we do take a number of twists and turns to get to our destination.