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Ancient and Medieval Labyrinth and Contemporary Narrative Therapy: How Do They Fit? Ingrid D. Bloos1,3 and Thomas St. James O’Connor2
This essay describes the ancient and medieval labyrinth present in a variety of cultures. The labyrinth in Chartres Cathedral, France is presented in diagram and description. Contemporary narrative family therapy developed by Michael White and David Epston is summarized. Similarities and differences are noted between the labyrinth and narrative therapy. A case is provided on how the labyrinth could be used in a narrative therapeutic approach. KEY WORDS: ancient; medieval; labyrinth; narrative therapy.
The ancient and medieval labyrinth and contemporary narrative therapy are not mentioned together. Both stem from different worlds, from different historical eras and are structured in different ways. However, there are similarities between the two and both can be used for personal, psychological and spiritual growth. This article describes the nature of each, discusses their similarities and differences and offers possible uses of the labyrinth in a narrative approach to a case. WHAT IS THE LABYRINTH? This question seems to elicit responses ranging from puzzled curiosity to vague familiarity to enthusiastic recognition. Myriad images spring to mind including intricate arrangements of hedges, topiary gardens, complicated games or literary illustrations. Many automatically associate labyrinths with mazes and refer 1 Ingrid
D. Bloos, MTS is a family therapist. St. James O’Connor, ThD is Senior Chaplain and Researcher Hamilton Health Sciences, Corporation, Box 2000 Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, L8N 3Z5, and Associate Professor, Pastoral Care and Counselling, Waterloo Lutheran Seminary, Waterloo, Ontario, Canada, N2L 3C5. 3 Address correspondence to Interfaith Pastoral Counselling Centre, 151 Frederick Street, Kitchener, Ontario, Canada, N2H 2M2. 2 Thomas
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to them interchangeably (Bard, 1976; Matthews, 1970). Familiarity and recognition notwithstanding, the labyrinth in contemporary time is becoming increasingly popular (Baker, 1997; Ota, 2000; Harpur, 2000). In its earliest form and context, the labyrinth came to be known as a spiral-shaped structure that is built on the mathematical principles of sacred geometry (Pennick, 1980; Conty, 1992; Lawlor, 1982). The concentric and curvilinear features of the spiral pattern are based on the circle which is believed to be the oldest known symbol drawn by humans as evidenced by artifacts found throughout many geographically disparate regions dating back thousands and thousands of years (Jung, 1964). These ancient representations are characteristically associated with the cyclical changes of the cosmos and human relationship to such movements and, as such, are often imbued with mystery (Purce, 1974). Classical writers of antiquity from Herodotus to Plato frequently refer to the labyrinth in some form (Reed Doob, 1990). Fervent explorations during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries finally led to the Napoleonic uncovering of the formerly conceptual labyrinth as structure in Egypt. As such, while the Egyptian labyrinth precedes other known forms, both the Egyptian and Cretan labyrinths emerge as original (Hooke, 1935). In the world of ancient Egypt, labyrinths were actual physical buildings comprised of columns, courts, palaces, curving passages and subterranean tunnels. Several have been described as architectural structures surpassing the pyramids in both stature and magnificence. These labyrinths are purported to have provided the setting in which worship, important judicial matters and royal sepulchral affairs occurred. While verification of Egyptian labyrinths is ample, the physical authenticity of the Cretan Labyrinth, an ostensibly inferior replication of the Egyptian model, remains scant. The Cretan Labyrinth, however, is associated with Greek mythology and provides the context in which the drama of the archetypal characters of Theseus and the Minotaur unfolds. According to the myth, the Cretan Labyrinth serves as the clever serpentine structure which Daedalus designed to be virtually impossible to exit. At the Labyrinth’s centre resides the hideous and cruel Minotaur whose intention it is to entrap and kill any human who dares to enter. Theseus is summoned to enter the Labyrinth whereupon he encounters and ultimately kills the Minotaur only to face the subsequent challenge of escaping the bleak, entangling structure. He does so only through the help of the maiden Ariadne, who holds the string which allows Theseus to safely exit the Labyrinth (Downing, 1980). This myth served and continues to serve as an allegorical reflection of the human existential struggle (Artress, 1995; West, 2000). The physical aspects authenticated in the Egyptian labyrinths combine with those theorized in the Cretan Labyrinth to form the dominant serpentine designs that evolved thereafter. There are two main types of labyrinth patterns: the multicursal and the unicursal. The unicursal pattern reflects a single path from the outside to the centre and back out
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again with no false turns. The multicursal pattern reflects paths with many potential dead ends or alternate routes toward the centre (Bord, 1976). Some scholars use the terms “maze” and “labyrinth” interchangeably. However, they are not the same (Bord, 1976). The ultimate distinction between a maze and a labyrinth is bound by intention. The devious design of the “maze” is intended to confuse, puzzle and obstruct while the open form of the “labyrinth” is intended to facilitate. Thus, since it is the multicursal design that creates the confusion and deception, most scholars agree that only a form which is unicursal in design can be called a “labyrinth” (Bord, 1976). While the rendition of the labyrinth throughout the classical period reveals a decidedly three-dimensional multicursal design, re-emergence of the concept during the early Middle Ages, and onward, is exemplified by its counterpart (Reed Doob, 1990). Evidence of the two-dimensional Roman form of the labyrinth emerges with ecclesiastic relevance in the context of early medieval culture. The unicursal design of what has come to be identified as the classical eleven-circuit Roman labyrinth is suggestive of one singular and straightforward path toward the centre—a shift in consciousness from an earlier pantheistic perspective toward one consistent with/reflective of the beliefs of many medieval Christians (Matthews, 1970). Whereas the Christian mosaic labyrinths, also known as church or pavement labyrinths, can be found in Africa, the earliest are in Italy. These include cathedrals at Pavia, Piacenza and Ravenna and date from the tenth to the twelfth centuries. By the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the major cathedrals in France had incorporated church labyrinths. These cathedrals include Auxerre, Sens, Chartres, Rouen and Amiens. These labyrinths are typically made of ornate arrangements of mosaic tile and although small wall labyrinths have been found to exist, church labyrinths are predominantly located on the floor. There is a great deal of speculation about the actual uses of the labyrinth during the Middle Ages. One common belief maintains that pavement labyrinths in both France and Italy provided the context for both secular and ecclesiastic ceremonial dances. Some historians refer to the labyrinth pattern as a guide to the performers of erotic spring dances that marked the festive seasonal changes while some church records suggest that a number of dioceses practiced Easter rituals on them. The labyrinth had other uses. One is a tool for spiritual centering before entering the church for worship. Another is using the journeying of the labyrinth as token pilgrimage. A third is keeping witches and spirits at bay. A fourth is for playing and ornamentation (West, 2000; Garfield et al., 1987; Gebsner, 1992; Bord, 1970). Some form of the labyrinth pattern is found in almost every religious tradition. In Native Spirituality, it is manifest in the Medicine Wheel. The sacred spiral pattern of the wheel, based on the number four, symbolizes the unity of all creation. For many North American natives, the Wheel is a physical expression
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of the tunnel or vortex of “eternal return” invariably leading to the centre. Hopi Indians called the labyrinth the Mother Earth symbol. Its association to sacred underground sanctuaries reflects the people’s evolution through three previous worlds to the present fourth world. It is believed that the lines and passages of the sacred spiral integrally form the universal plan of the Creator. The Pima Indians of South America incorporate a similar belief which is illustrated in the famous symbolic form of the man in the maze. In Judaism, the kabbalah or “Tree of Life” is an elongated version of the labyrinth pattern based on the number eleven. As a spiritual tool, the kabbalah supports the search for deeper allegorical meaning in the words and letters of the Torah. Within this context, certain divine attributes are arranged into a pattern of multilayered, hierarchical polarities called the “kabbalistic tree” (Elwood, 1996). In Buddhism, the labyrinthine pattern manifests in the form of the mandala. The word mandala comes from the Sanskrit and means circle. One foremost recognized mandala is the Tibetan Sand Painting whose use dates back thousands of years. The mandala manifests the hidden realities and lines of force in the universe (Jung, 1964). Although the Sand Paintings are not walked, the spiral circles drawn into the sand are used for contemplation. The patterns are intended to “bring home both the diversity and the unity of the psycho-cosmic forces they represent” (Ellwood, 1996, 138). In Western Christianity, the mystical path of the labyrinthine spiral is traditionally the Threefold Path, based on the sixteenth century teachings of Saint Teresa of Avila. The three stages define the sequence or the process experienced as an “ever-deepening sense of union with the Divine” (Artress, 1995, 28). The universal process this path represents is energetically embedded in the labyrinth design. Stage one, Purgation, represents moving from the entrance of the labyrinth along to its centre. The experience during this stage is one of release with a resulting objective of quiet. The second stage, known as Illumination, may be found in the centre of the labyrinth, a place for meditation and prayer. The final stage of Union captures the process of leaving the centre, retracing the path out of the labyrinth and, finally, some form of integration toward the expression of a newfound awareness (Artress, 1995). The labyrinth evolution universally, across time, culture and religion supports Jung’s conviction that “. . . a psychology really attuned to the soul’s processes admits our implication in a variety of myths” (Downing, 1980, 136). Cross-culturally, the meandering symbolic spiral elicits and reflects something deeper that moves an aspect of self. This deeper movement indicates a soul-recognition pattern that seems to share the essence of both mythologized beliefs and archetypes of the collective (Purce, 1974; Jung, 1964). The labyrinth pattern fundamentally emerging from the circle symbol is the most precise and intricate surviving pattern predicated on the principles inherent to sacred geometry (Lawlor, 1982; Penneck, 1980). Sacred geometry incorporates
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shapes, numbers and form with a complimentary system of angles and design to facilitate a desired condition or particular process. Once considered a “sacred art” the concepts utilized in sacred geometry represent the earliest and fundamental manifestations of civilization and underlie many subsequent developments in architecture and art. Architects and builders from the ancient Egyptian engineers of the priest class to the master builders and masons of the infamous Knight’s Templar combine concepts of proportion, placement and position of materials. This is to recapture the orderly movement from an infinite formlessness to an endless interconnected array of forms. Art and architecture constructed in accordance with principles of sacred geometry were considered to manifest the mysterious sacredness of the Divine. The Gothic cathedrals of medieval Europe, many of which include the pavement labyrinth, are surviving artifacts representing these sacred principles of sacred geometry. The Labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral in France, laid into the Cathedral floor sometime between the Great Fire of 1194 and 1220, is the largest and most intact of those remaining from this period and has come to represent the quintessential example of the labyrinth. The forty-two diameter labyrinth is built with handmade blue and white mosaic tile.
Chartres Labyrinth Artress, 1995 The Chartres Labyrinth, like almost all the labyrinths built or refurbished during the reawakened interest in labyrinths during the Middle Ages reflects the classical eleven-circuit labyrinth. This pattern is composed of eleven concentric circles with a twelfth circle as the labyrinth’s centre. In addition to the centre, a classical labyrinth has petals, labyrs and lunations which are made up of cusps and foils and an invisible thirteen-pointed star. The centre circle of this style of labyrinth is comprised of six discernible rose-shaped petals often called the rosette. These six petals are thought to symbolize the six stages of planetary evolution. Upon entrance to the centre, the first petal to the left is mineral, the next petal is vegetable, followed by animal, human, angelic and, finally, the Unknown or the mystery. The labyrs are the double axe symbols visible at the turns along the path throughout the labyrinth pattern. There are ten labyrs and they are seen traditionally as a symbol of woman’s power and creativity. When viewed from above, the
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labyrs pattern forms a large cross or cruciform. The lunations are the outer ring of partial circles that complete the outside circle of the labyrinth. They consist of 28.5 two-thirds circles (called foils) per quadrant and therefore twenty-eight cusps per quadrant. There are a total of 113 cusps and 112 foils. (One cusp and two foils are absent at the entrance to each of the four quadrants.) The absence of the cusp and two foils indicates a quarter of a year. The lunations are thought to have served as a calendar tracing the lunar cycles of twenty-eight days each. The lunations are considered important to the balancing of archetypal masculine and feminine energies. The invisible thirteen-pointed star radiating from the labyrinth’s centre is considered the most important part and represents the culmination of the manifest principles of sacred geometry. The points of the star connect the outer lunations with the labyrinth’s centre. Two of the lines of the star intersect directly in the middle of the labyrinth, the point of which is at the centre of the right-hand path. The crossing of these lines determines where the petals will be placed and the star allows for the centre to be placed properly. Labyrinth scholars assert that this invisible star empowers the labyrinth in an inexplicable way. “It establishes the pattern for the flow of energy that allows the seeker to have solid and integrative experiences” (Artress, 1995, 64). Artress asserts that the cusps, or points, of the lunations serve as conduits for the energy to circulate and radiate outward. Through the literal act of walking a labyrinth the energies of both thought and metaphor coalesce with kinesthetic energy of movement. The principles of sacred geometry upon which the labyrinth is constructed imbue the labyrinth with a certain innate mechanism that is intended to move and shift one’s inner energies, awareness and experience of self. Although the labyrinth has undergone many changes and transformations throughout history, certain elements of its physical construction have remained characteristic. The pattern, regardless of form, has always been associated with activities concerned with the great mysteries of life and death. Although the labyrinth pattern eludes definitive explanation, it invites our intuitive, pattern-seeking mind to emerge. This medieval spiritual tool is becoming revitalized today in the realms of spiritual awakening and personal growth (Ota, 2000; Harpur, 2000; West, 2000; Artress, 1995).
WHAT IS CONTEMPORARY NARRATIVE FAMILY THERAPY? Narrative family therapy has developed in the last fifteen years. Starting in Australian and New Zealand with the work of Michael White and David Epston, narrative family therapy has evolved (White and Epston, 1989). Every writer and practitioner who utilizes narrative family therapy has his/her own way of articulating it. Narrative therapy is more an approach than a consistent theory. It draws on the philosophy of Michel Foucault and the anthropology of Gregory Bateson
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in ways that place it within social constructivism (White and Epston, 1989). Social constructivism believes that knowledge is socially constructed by a group. Narrative therapy believes that humans construct stories to make sense of their experience. These stories are many. Some are dominant and are primary means of interpreting reality. Some are less dominant and are only used occasionally by persons to interpret reality. The less dominant stories are usually referred to as alternate stories. In narrative therapy, the dominant story is usually quite different from the alternate story (O’Connor et al., 1997). According to narrative therapy, persons come seeking help when there is a problem that they cannot overcome. The problem is embedded in a dominant narrative that robs the person of success over the problem. The person feels defeated by the problem and cannot see any success against the problem. This is called a problem saturated situation. The task of narrative therapy is to discover unique outcomes, i.e., moments when the problem did not exist and/or was defeated by the clients. These unique outcomes underline the alternate story of success. The dominant story tends to reinforce the problem and dis-empower the persons involved and thus robs personal agency. The alternate story builds personal agency and focuses on moments of success (Tomm, 1989). The therapist in conversation with the clients builds the alternate story. This is called the process of co-construction because it involves both therapist and client in a conversation in developing a story of success. This alternate story then becomes a dominant story for interpreting moments of success against the problem. Narrative therapists believe that this hermeneutical shift brings success in reducing the problem. There is qualitative evidence to back this claim (O’Connor et al., 1997; Sells et al., 1994; Smith et al., 1992). Narrative therapy employs a number of strategies in building the alternative story. One is externalizing the problem (White and Epston, 1989; Tomm, 1989; O’Connor et al., 1997; O’Connor, 1999). The problem is not viewed as within a person but outside. The problem oppresses persons and is not in persons. For example, a person is not depressed. Rather, sometimes depression oppresses the person and pushes the person from the outside. This cognitive, hermeneutical shift uses active verbs in describing a situation. Depression, then, “pushes,” “jumps on,” “oppresses,” etc. the person. Narrative therapy does not use being verbs. A narrative therapist would not say “The person is depressed.” Narrative therapy believes that externalizing the problem aids in managing the problem more effectively. Such an approach augments personal agency. One strategy that narrative therapy utilizes to develop the alternate story is the reflecting team (Sells et al., 1996; Smith at al., 1992). The reflecting team is a group of narrative therapists who watch behind a one-way mirror the conversation between the client and the interviewing therapist. At some point, they are invited into the session to share their perceptions. The reflecting team offers a variety of reflections. These reflections might involve positive comments on the development of the alternate story, tasks that might be pursued by the clients, affirmations of the
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qualities that have been noticed in the clients, etc. The role of the reflecting team is to help in building the alternate story. Narrative therapy also uses therapeutic letters as another strategy (White and Epston, 1989; O’Connor et al., 1997). These letters are sent to clients after a session. They underline the story of success and put in writing the positive qualities and abilities that clients have shown in the therapeutic sessions in defeating the problem. Clients report that they savour these letters and that they are often placed in prominent positions in the home as a reminder of the alternate story. Another strategy is building the audience (O’Connor et al., 1997; O’Connor, 1997). Narrative therapy not only helps the clients construct an alternate story but also brings in other people that are close to the clients in building an audience for change. These others are co-opted to underline the story of success and to become an audience of support and affirmation for the clients. This audience for change often includes grandparents, parents, siblings, co-workers, teachers, bosses, social workers, the reflecting team, etc. WHAT ARE THE SIMILARITIES AND DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE ANCIENT AND MEDIEVAL LABYRINTH AND CONTEMPORARY NARRATIVE THERAPY? There are both similarities and differences between the two. The correlation is analogical, i.e., similarities and differences (Tracy, 1981, 1987). Five similarities are outlined. First, both the labyrinth and narrative therapy share the same goal of building the alternate story. In narrative therapy, the alternate story is one of success over the problem. In the labyrinth, the alternate story is helping the person experience spiritual energy in a new way by walking the labyrinth. Second, both begin with negative experience. In the labyrinth, one begins the journey aware of something that is missing. This might be a lack of energy, insight and/or integration. The person walking the labyrinth seeks to move to insight and integration. Narrative therapy begins with a problem saturated story that spells defeat and then moves to the alternate story of success. Third, both use hermeneutics, i.e., interpretation of experience. The labyrinth seeks new understanding and interpretation of one’s experience through the walk. Narrative therapy interprets experience in order to create a story of success over the problem. Fourth, narrative therapy and the labyrinth facilitate personal agency. Narrative therapy empowers the clients to overcome the problem by developing an externalizing conversation and building the alternate story. The labyrinth requires the person to walk and while walking to experience, feel and interpret. Persons walking the labyrinth feel empowered at the end. Fifth, both build an audience for change. Narrative therapy involves many persons outside of the identified clients as part of this audience. The labyrinth is connected to the wider group, both present and not present. While the person walks the labyrinth, often, there are others who
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are also walking it. This creates a communal experience even though words are not necessarily exchanged. Because of the long history and tradition of the labyrinth, there is a sense that the walker is accompanied by a host of people both dead and alive who have walked the labyrinth as part of their personal spiritual journey. There are three major differences between narrative therapy and the labyrinth. First, narrative is part of the post-modern, socially constructed view of truth. The labyrinth in its ancient and medieval traditions arises from a view of truth that is viewed as objective and universal. Certainly, those using a post-modern view of spirituality do adapt the labyrinth for their spiritual growth. However, the assumptions of the labyrinth are different from a post-modern view. Second, narrative emphasizes the cognitive and the labyrinth emphasizes the kinesthetic. Insight is important in the labyrinth but the means to insight is the kinesthetic experience of walking the labyrinth. Third, the labyrinth is focused on spirituality and developing spiritual energy. Narrative does not always focus on the spiritual. Narrative therapy could focus on spirituality if the client so desired and that is where the alternate story of success resides. However, none of the published case studies ever mention spirituality (O’Connor, 1999). HOW MIGHT THE LABYRINTH BE USED IN A NARRATIVE CONTEXT? In a narrative therapeutic context, the labyrinth may be used as a possible intervention if it fits within the goals of the client(s) and most important, if the client is willing to utilize the experience of walking the labyrinth. Accordingly, the therapist is encouraged to use her own creativity in order to provide a facilitative therapeutic environment. This means adapting the walk to the needs of the client. In a narrative approach, the walk ought to empower the client to utilize the alternate story and augment the client’s personal agency. The therapist and client can be creative in their use of the labyrinth. Given its kinesthetic focus, client and therapist can co-construct a walk that physically represents elements of the client’s struggle, difficult details, etc. within the dominant story. Incorporating some physical representation of the client’s story into the labyrinth experience may serve to enhance the therapeutic context and facilitate healthy change. Here, the labyrinth becomes the context of a psychodrama (Satir, 1988; Satir et al., 1991) which was one of its purposes during the medieval period. The following case study provides such an example. Mary and Jim presented for counselling with marital issues. The couple, married for twelve years, have three young children and live with Mary’s parents in the younger couple’s home. Mary complained that her husband’s increased drinking was becoming more of a problem in their relationship. She reported that Jim opts to drink beer while watching television only to fall asleep instead of joining in family activities. While Jim acknowledged his drinking had been increasing,
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he cited his behaviour as resulting from feelings of displacement. Jim defined the problem as one of lack of privacy for the couple and their children within their own home. Mary gave Jim an ultimatum—to either quit drinking or leave. Further exploration of their situation reveals that two years earlier Mary’s parents’ financial circumstances required them to move into their daughter and son-in-law’s home. Defined as a crisis situation at the time, little discussion of pragmatic details occurred. Mary reported that her feelings of gratitude for the help her parents provide with the children prevent her from approaching them to make changes. Both Mary and Jim are involved in spiritual practices and showed an interest in using the labyrinth in the process of therapy. How could the labyrinth within a narrative context be used in this case? For Mary and Jim, the alternate story that they co-constructed with the therapist is a story in which Jim is more involved with the family and his drinking is reduced. In the alternate story, privacy is increased and a more appropriate boundary is created between Mary and her parents. Mary and Jim spend time together, as a couple, as parents and as a family. With this particular couple, the labyrinth could be used in at least three different ways. First, obstacles may be incorporated into or placed at certain points along the labyrinth’s path. Such obstacles represent some of the “blocks” that prevent them from making the desired changes. For example, Mary and Jim could walk the labyrinth each carrying some literal representation of the emotional weight they respectively carry (Satir, et al., 1991; West, 2000). For example, Jim might carry a case of beer as he walks the labyrinth’s path while Mary might negotiate the walk encumbered with ropes representing the myriad responsibilities and entanglements. The combined use of the labyrinth and narrative therapy provides a kinesthetic approach to the exploration of challenges toward alternative practice. Accordingly, a second option might include placing various objects along prescribed points of the labyrinth’s path. Not only would this illuminate significant aspects of the couple’s responsibilities and challenges, it might also invite the couple to seek creative alternatives to problematic or ineffective means of negotiating. Symbols such as these would reflect the excess “burdens” or hardships they experience when out of sync with one another as a couple. Third, in addition to the representation of challenges, the use of symbols to represent individual and collective resources the couple currently carry would be useful. Such symbols may include representations of their commitment to their marriage, humour, playfulness, supportive friends and family members, and so on. Also, walking the labyrinth with symbols representing moments of success over the problem would be demonstrated and explored. To augment the experience of walking the labyrinth with baggage in tow is the contrasting experience of walking it with fewer constraints. Such an experience may provide a comparatively less cumbersome alternative to the couple’s present approach. In this way, the motivation for change may be enhanced by means of an experiential template/imprint and expanded repertoire of responses.
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The couple is invited to walk the path three times. Walking the labyrinth more than once in a session is helpful as it typically supports an increasingly relaxed, less distracted and more facilitative therapeutic experience. Depending on the particular storying of their narrative, the couple may enter the labyrinth individually or simultaneously. As they walk the labyrinth’s path, they begin to get a sense of their experience. The therapist is appropriately active throughout moving with intuition and interceding much like the therapeutic role taken in a psychodrama. In this way, the couple and the therapist endeavor to co-construct and realize the alternative story. The couple is supported throughout as they begin to experience themselves individually, as a unit and as a unit with responsibilities. As the walk unfolds so does the couple’s narrative. Each partner is supported as challenges are encountered, awarenesses emerge and alternatives are presented. Discussions are encouraged throughout the process and adjustments to the “alternate story” are made along the way as necessary. The final stage of the collaborative narrative-labyrinth approach involves debriefing the experience. In this way, each partner is encouraged to share any new details noticed and learned. Helpful aspects are distinguished from less helpful aspects toward supporting the couple’s alternate story of success over the presenting problem. CONCLUSION Both the labyrinth and contemporary narrative therapy have been helpful to those who have participated in them. Tom Harpur, a spiritual writer and author, notes that both he and his wife have “walked the labyrinth” and he has found that “labyrinths soothe my soul” (Harpur, 2000, Section F, p2). Others report similar helpful experiences (Ota, 2000). Qualitative studies on clients’ experience of narrative therapy indicate that the clients find the therapy helpful (O’Connor et al., 1997; Sells et al., 1992; Smith et al., 1994) and “on the right track” (O’Connor et al., 1997, 479). While there are differences between the labyrinth and narrative therapy, there are enough similarities that both can be used together in pastoral counselling. REFERENCES Artress, L. (1995). Walking a sacred path: rediscovering the labyrinth as a spiritual tool. New York, N.Y: Riverhead Books. Baker, B. (1997). A modern metaphor. Parabola. 17(5), 83–87. Bord, J. (1976). Mazes and labyrinths of the world. London: The Anchor Press Ltd. Combs, G. & Freedman, J. (1990). Symbol, story and ceremony: Using metaphor in individual and family therapy. New York, N.Y.: W. H. Norton and Company, Inc. Conty, P. (1992). The geometry of the labyrinth. Parabola. 17(4), 4–14. Coomaraswamy, A.K. (1992). The one thread. Parabola. 17(4), 26–33.
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