Yesterday my church voted to lease part of the 2 acres of our land behind the church to a preschool center. Zoning rules in the city of Pembroke Pines dictate that preschool centers must have some green space, and the preschool will be in the shopping center to our east. I guess that part of the design will be cutting a gate into the fence.
We used to have a playground and that fenced area still exists, without the equipment. But the land the preschool will be leasing will be further south--right over the space where the labyrinth used to be.
We haven't had a labyrinth in years, but I can still see where it used to be--although it's getting fainter with each passing year. I always loved having it, although I didn't walk it as often as I would have thought. It was a target for vandals, and we talked about what we could do to make it more permanent, like planting shrubs as labyrinth lane separator. In the end, we let the land take the labyrinth back.
The church created the labyrinth after our pastor did his dissertation on the sacredness of outdoor spaces. I was part of his focus group, and in this way, I met some church members and became intrigued by such a church. I was part of the group that laid out the original labyrinth. I always thought it might come back. I feel a bit of sadness at its loss.
I think of the labyrinth that will be beneath the surface of the playground--I wonder if the playground will have a sacredness that it wouldn't have otherwise. Will the children look back and feel that the playground was different than all their other play spaces?
I love the symbolism of the labyrinth. Could I make a poem out of these elements? I'm sure that I can.
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