Parts of me grew up in the woods. The parts of me that tasted young adulthood for the first time. Like vegan cookies and falafel. Like outdoor concerts in the quad and DJ parties with hippies. Life at UC Santa Cruz felt like 4 years of sleep-away camp. The outer walls of our dorms were covered in brown shingles, like cabins. Deer grazed on the vast lawns all over campus, and if you were (un)lucky, you’d run into a mountain lion on your way to class. Getting to the lecture halls was literally a walk in the woods. Oakes Trail was absolutely beautiful, pine trees reaching the sky, a cool shade for those afternoon jogs.

UCSC was known for being a party school, a stoner school. People smoked openly on the Porter College lawn, and campus security cared more about you drinking alcohol than they did you smoking. I didn’t smoke, but I did enjoy the fashion, the crochet arm gloves, the flared pants and handmade tops from Nepal. Basically anything that made you look like you were going to attend Burning Man.

We also had Ralph Quinn. Ralph was a professor in the psychology department, teaching courses such as Clinical Psychology, Humanistic Psychology and the famed –and I mean famed—Psychology and Religion (most people I’ve met in the psychology field who have gone to Santa Cruz have taken Ralph’s Psych and Religion class. It is that fun and amazing and exhilarating). It was as though Carl Jung, Mick Jagger and Peter Pan had a baby and out came Ralph. Ralph taught classes in a way that made it feel like you were in an art or philosophy class. Or at a concert! On Halloween, he literally entered the lecture hall by first playing several bars from The Rolling Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil, then running in wildly through the aisles wearing a top hat and a faux beard. If I remember correctly, this particular lecture was really a dance party.

His pièce de résistance took place on the last day of class. Instead of hunkering down in the lecture hall (oh, no! Ralph wouldn’t even think of making it so mundane!), we hiked to the top of a grassy hill. I think the only preparation he gave us was to wear comfortable clothing and close-toed shoes. There, Ralph led the entire class in a Spiral Dance, a traditional dance in Neopaganism to honor community and rebirth, and to elevate power in ritual.

I can’t remember if there was music, but knowing Ralph, there was likely music of some kind. So we all held hands and spiraled inward. And then outward. All the while, making eye contact with other members of class as we danced past them. Awwwk-ward. My young adult self was probably too young to really appreciate what this meant other than how fun and weird this was for a college class. I mean, was this really college? Was this what I could probably expect later on life? If this quirky, older man was doing it, then life after school looked promising. Even if I didn’t fully get it then, the experience and the impact Ralph and his classes had on me have never left.

Sacred Geometry¹

Since that wacky day on top of that grassy hill, I have participated in only one other Spiral Dance. But throughout the years, I’ve found myself gravitating toward circular formations, many of which are ancient technologies of spiritual belief and practice.

Mandalas

Mandalas really started showing up for me when I started attending art therapy trainings where we worked with these ancient tools to explore ourselves personally as well as a way to guide clients in exploring themselves.

Medicine Wheel

For about 5 years, I worked at a community clinic that served communities indigenous to Turtle Island (North America) and Alaska Natives in LA County. During this time, I was encouraged to actively participate in trainings on working with indigenous communities and this is where I learned a little bit more about the Medicine Wheel.

The Labyrinth

As it’s difficult to identify the true purpose of a labyrinth due to its ancient origins, today’s modern labyrinth is known as an archetype for Life’s Journey. The circular path represents the walker’s journey inward and outward, much like the direction in which participants move during a Spiral Dance. The labyrinth offers no other path, allowing journeyers to focus on contemplation rather than navigation (source).

Doing the Dance

Inhale, 1…2…3,

                      exhale, 1…2…3.

      Inhale, 1…2…3,

                      exhale, 1…2…3.

There are rhythms and patterns all around us. The rise and fall of my belly as I breathe, the waves rushing back and forth against the shoreline, the life and death cycles of all living creatures. That ebb and flow of the universe is a language of Life.

Although therapy does have a general trajectory², there is no set diagram or flowchart for the path to healing. Some folks feel frustrated when progress plateaus or when they experience a setback that makes it seem as though things have gotten worse. It’s usually at this point when I remind clients that a straight and direct path of recovery is false and unrealistic:

“Healing is not linear.”

The confusion comes from implicit and explicit conditioning in modern Western society that all of life operates in a linear fashion, starting at point A, taking steps one in front of the other and ending at point B.

A common example:

A strict adherence to this type of social order reminds me of the way assembly lines brought order and cost-efficiency to factories during the rise of the Industrial Age –each step of assembly progressively builds upon the step that preceded it. As the world continues to advance in its complexity and shades of gray, the appeal of having order, control and predictability persists. Any deviation from order brings a sense of anxiety and fear of chaos and ultimately, one’s demise whether it be literally or figuratively (as in social ostracization).

Speaking of deviation, there are some folks that do this:

To be clear, there is nothing wrong with the path taken in Figure 1. Nor is there anything wrong with the path taken in Figure 2. Paths hold no value judgment of right or wrong (that is reserved for the people observing said paths). The problems arise when the journey does not support growth, when it causes harm to oneself/others, when it is not in alignment with one’s true self and when it’s some combination of all of the above. (It’s important to be mindful of what pathways make sense for folks when taking into account their cultural background and sociopolitical/socioeconomic positions in any given society.)

So if healing isn’t linear, how does it look?

Healing looks a lot like riding a bike. Each time you fall and get back on the bike, your body acquires a better sense of balance, a better sense of how to navigate paths and any roadblocks you come across. Someone who is in recovery from addiction will find themselves spiraling inward toward sobriety at the center of the labyrinth, only to find themselves spiraling back out toward relapse. While each relapse can feel like starting back at the drawing board, the journeyer has the opportunity to gather new experiences, lessons and tools, as well as space and time to apply this new medicine with each spiral.

Coming Full Circle

Fate can have a way of showing up in your life when it’s needed the most. Just before the Spiral Dance, I handed in my final paper. I had chosen to write on the recent death of my two cousins, both a couple years younger than I. Since learning of their passing, I was walking through life in a fog, choosing to hyper-focus on my academics. That was the first year I got straight A’s in all my classes since I began college. The paper was also the start of healing from my grief.

The last time I was in Santa Cruz, it was a little less Woodstock and a little more Google Headquarters. The shiny outer walls of the new science building winked smartly at the deer grazing on the lawn. Vape pens replaced joints (kind of) and students were reading textbooks on their Kindles. It had been almost 2 decades since I spiral danced with my fellow classmates, and yet the spirit of walking off the beaten path still lived in the prayer flags someone hung in their window and the dorm rooms named for renowned figures in history (Elie Wiesel, Queen Liliuokalani, Frida Kahlo, Betty Shabazz). I’ve spiraled inward and outward so many times through my healing (grief and otherwise) that 2 decades later, the wounds have scabbed over, leaving behind a tough skin that protects yet yields to softness, like a glove.⁵

I heard Ralph was still dancing, dancing to the beat of his own drum, a pied piper for his students looking for permission to color wonderfully and vividly outside the lines. So when you feel like you’re spinning in circles, just know that each spiral carries lessons to support you through this life journey. These spirals, these ebbs and flows –they’re normal. Oftentimes painful and frustrating, but normal nonetheless. They’re part of the process.

The Devil in the top hat said so himself.

FIELD NOTES:

¹ While I appreciate the symbology, I don’t claim expertise on sacred geometry and refer you to the appropriate literature for accurate info.

² Every therapist has their own format, but my general trajectory can look something like: gather history, confirm goals, process/identify coping skills.

³ Just to be clear, I love my parents. The sarcasm is just for us. Besides, just looking at Figure 2 is wild enough to drive anyone into early retirement.

⁴ These figures are laughably simplified, but you get it, right? Right??

⁵ Spoiler alert: I’m still healing. It’s a life-long journey.

If you are enjoying this virtual exploration, I invite you to