First published May 12, 2022 in Stories Beneath the Shell.
by Fatema Hosseini
Round and round, I walk through the labyrinth. At each turn of the labyrinth, my mind lets go of a stressful thought, and each turn of it brings in a comforting one. Feeling the wind ruffling through my hair on the University of Maryland’s campus, I recall the long journey I went through before I found myself there. Tapping my shoulder, telling myself “Well done,” I think about the long journey I have ahead of me.
I, an Afghan girl whose family had to flee the Taliban twice in a period of 26 years. First in 1994 when they fled civil war and sought refuge in Iran, and then in August 2021, when Afghanistan yet again fell to the Taliban. I, whose parents, 17 years after returning to their country in 2004, and starting everything from scratch, had just built a life, had a house and adjusted to society by continuously fighting the extremists. But August 15, 2021, an unforgettable date carved in both my heart and my mind, robbed them of everything they had built. That day, I lost the freedom that I was fighting for.
That day, hundreds of thousands of people lost their dreams and buried them in their minds and their hearts. That day, Afghanistan collapsed and was taken over by the Taliban, again.
Listening to birds chirping and students laughing, I recall the cost my family and I paid to keep our freedom. I almost died fleeing Kabul, four days after the collapse of Afghanistan. My parents who tried for 17 years to own a house lost everything overnight. I think how lucky I am to be here — alive, free and happy. Feeling the wind through my haid, I close my eyes and open my arms, trusting my guts to walk me through the labyrinth. And before I realize it, I reach the center and the endpoint, which I call life-too quick to pass.
Nature has always helped heal my wounds and keep my stress level low. That day, the labyrinth, garden and the small journal placed beneath the benches at the garden helped me release my anxiety and dark thoughts. The staff members working at the chapel are responsible for collecting and replacing the journals by the end of each month.
It was there that I promised myself to return every now and then to the garden, where I have started meeting more people like myself — nature lovers.
I’m not the only one using the labyrinth to destress. On a recent sunny afternoon, I met Jordyn Salow, a sophomore psychology major at the garden. She’s stressed about her studies and maintaining relationships. She said she easily gets nervous and freaks out whenever she gets stressed. The labyrinth is one of her coping mechanisms.
“In every turn of the labyrinth, I tried to listen to noises and could get a new perspective of everything I could see and hear. It is really beautiful and helpful,” Salow said.
Belal Ahmad Noori, a master’s student studying education, learned about the garden from his friend who took him there in the fall semester of 2021. Back then, Noori was worried about his family’s situation in Afghanistan. Afghanistan was on the verge of collapsing to the Taliban.
“My friend guided me through the labyrinth path, Noori said. “After we completed it, she showed me the journal.”
The labyrinth has a journal where people can write out their worries and stressors. It’s a way to convert the stress into words and relieve it by writing it down.
Noori’s friend instructed him to write something down that worries him and keep that thought there until he’s ready to think about it again. Since then, he has developed a habit of visiting the garden, and each time he leaves a thought in the journal.
The idea of placing benches and journals in the garden came from Nature’s Secret Organization, which has been funding the project for years, said chapel manager Denise McHugh.
“We go through each piece and try to transcribe many of them. Majorities of quotes, especially the ones from 2013-2014 and 2017-2018 were about self-reflection, community, nature and sometimes contemplation,” McHugh said. “I rarely came across notes that made me worry about the person’s condition. We make sure that there are always small notes with the journals mentioning that the chapel and the counseling center are always here to listen to the students.”
Interestingly, MacHugh said, some writers leave encouraging comments on other’s notes like “keep it on” and “keep moving.”
She is not sure whether the author would ever come back to see those notes and comments.
Heidi Scott, an assistant clinical professor in the Honors College, took all her students to the garden. She asked her students to enjoy the nature around them and write a poem each based on whatever they feel and experience.
Scott said the poems are a way to be mindful, kind and have a sense of common good and communal need.
She compared the labyrinth to a long journey that ends at the labyrinth’s center. It may take a while to reach it, she said, but as long as people stick to the path, they are going to get there.
Scott uses the garden to remember her grandmother, who was Ukrainian American.
“The last time I came here, I remember walking through the labyrinth and thinking of her. She was a big influence in my life,” Scott said. “This time while I was walking through the labyrinth, I was thinking of her entire country and everything that has been happening out there.”
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