A labyrinth is an ancient meditation tool, used for thousands of years to help people quiet the mind. It is not attached to any one religion, faith or tradition, but has been found all over the world throughout millennia.

”So many people think it’s a magical, new-agey thing,” says Willie Hoffer. ”In reality, the labyrinth is centuries old.”

Hoffer is a deacon at Trinity Episcopal Church in Bend. She has been offering the Central Oregon community a labyrinth ”ministry” for seven years.

”I’m pretty eclectic when it comes to spirituality,” says Hoffer. ”I’ve found that the labyrinth creates a space for people to find peace and healing.”

A labyrinth is not a maze. While the terms are often used interchangeably, a labyrinth is unicursal, meaning there is one entrance and one path that leads to the center of the labyrinth and back out again. Mazes are multicursal, with many paths, dead ends, cul-de-sacs and often several entrances and exits. A maze is a riddle to be solved; a labyrinth is a path to be walked.

Walkers on a labyrinth must give attention to following the path beneath their feet, but they don’t have to make any decisions about that path. This allows the left side of the brain – the one that governs rational, logical thought – to rest.

The right side of the brain – which provides intuitive, nonrational thought – is given free rein to work.

”The power of walking a labyrinth comes from allowing the mind to relax and not think,” says Hoffer.

According to the book, ”Walking a Sacred Path” by Dr. Lauren Artress, labyrinths have been known to the human race for more than 4,000 years. The oldest surviving labyrinth is on a rock carving in Sardinia, and dates from 2500 B.C. The ancient Egyptians built the earliest known walking labyrinth around 1800 B.C.

In her book, Artress points out that labyrinths can be found in almost every religious tradition around the world: the Jewish Kabbala, the Hopi medicine wheel, in pagan rituals of the ancient Greeks and Romans, and in the Christian cathedrals in Europe.

The labyrinth that Hoffer uses at Trinity Church is based on the pattern of the famous one at Chartres Cathedral in France. That labyrinth was laid into the cathedral floor sometime around 1220, and is one of the few remaining labyrinths from the Middle Ages, when the labyrinth was at its height of popularity.

The Chartres labyrinth is a pattern that lies in 11 concentric circles. The path meanders throughout the whole circle, which is 42 feet in diameter.

It ends in a twelfth circle in the center, which is in the pattern of a rosette that has six ”petals” that loop around the inner, open space.

It ends in a 12th circle in the center, which is in the pattern of a rosette that has six ”petals” that loop around the inner, open space.

”Labyrinths have a mystical aspect that comes from the individual,” says Hoffer. ”In reality, our labyrinth is just a paint pattern on canvas sailcloth, or a pattern of rocks and a bunch of bark. What you open up to when you’re on the labyrinth, what you allow to be there, is the mystery.”

From the labyrinth’s pagan beginnings, Christians of the Middle Ages used them as an expression of the Christian faith: The single path to the center was a perfect example of a single path to salvation. At that time, Christians were required to make a pilgrimage of faith to Jerusalem; however, the danger and cost of such a journey became prohibitive. The Church designated certain cathedrals as ”pilgrimage cathedrals,” and Christians would travel to them and walk the labyrinths laid in the stone floors.

The modern-day labyrinth ministry at Trinity Church is open to everyone, Hoffer stresses.

”We are open to the community,” she says. ”There is not a focus on religion.”

Hoffer says that the labyrinth can be used simply as a psychological tool.

”Some people will just ask a question, and use the labyrinth to access their unconscious mind.”

The experience of walking a labyrinth is difficult to describe. It is intensely personal, and different for every walker.

”I hate to make declarative statements about the labyrinth experience,” says Hoffer. ”People will be disappointed if they come with expectations of what it ‘should’ be like.”

Hoffer and the labyrinth ministry volunteers at the Episcopal Church offer suggestions of how to approach the labyrinth, and what the steps are in the process.

”I generally prepare my mind with a reading or a prayer or a thought before I enter the labyrinth,” says the church deacon.

Actually stepping onto the labyrinth is a good time to release any expectations from the mind, she says. The walk to the center is a time of letting go, of releasing the chattering mind and finding some quiet within.

”The center of the labyrinth is a time of arrival,” says Hoffer. ”It can be different every time.”

Walking out of the labyrinth is a process of preparing to re-enter the world, and of noticing what the quiet mind has to say. After exiting the labyrinth, Hoffer strongly recommends taking some time to reflect on the experience.

The labyrinth is so important to Hoffer that she and her husband, Richard, built one on their property, which is open by invitation only. Friends helped them build the large labyrinth, and actually finished it as a surprise when the couple was away on vacation.

”It’s been my vision to have a labyrinth out here ever since we moved,” she says. The Hoffers moved to Bend from Park City, Utah, seven years ago.

The pattern of the labyrinth at her residence is the Hopi symbol of Mother Earth. Laid in with lava rock and juniper bark, it offers a different meandering path to the center. The experience of walking a labyrinth out of doors is very different as well.

”It feels different to be outside. I feel connected in a special way,” says Hoffer.

Meditation tool or spiritual device, the labyrinth offers people the means to access a place within that is often covered up by intense busy-ness, chatter, expectation and noise. ”I believe that everyone born is a deeply spiritual person,” says Hoffer. ”The labyrinth helps us access that sacred space within us, lets us look at our journey.”

She pauses and thinks, looking at her lava-rock labyrinth under the juniper trees.

”I think in many ways the labyrinth is a metaphor for life.”