Abbo’s Alley is my new favorite place on Sewanee’s campus. One late afternoon I emerged from Gailor Hall after a long class and dumped my backpack at the dorm, knowing I needed some time outdoors before heading inside for more reading and writing.
That’s when I discovered Abbo’s Alley, a wooded trail that looks like something out of storybook. It wanders along the west side of campus, through a ravine cut by a small stream, bordered by ferns, oak-leaf hydrangeas and wildflowers. Old stone bridges span the stream here and there, and the water flows over large boulders and across shallow stretches of pebbles.
I’ve read since then that the ravine was set aside by the university as a natural preserve in 1867. The springs served as a source of water for campus in the early years, and students bathed there. The trail is named for Abbott Cotten Martin, an English professor at Sewanee for over 40 years who planted bulbs, flowers and shrubs in that ravine, often using work-study students for labor.
As I walked, I noticed a wooden sign that read LABYRINTH. Since I’m a fan of this Celtic form of walking prayer, I followed the stone steps to the top, where a small gravel and paving stone spiral is set into a clearing.
I stood for a moment at the start of the labyrinth, trying to still my mind and open my heart to any potential divine guidance as I walked. As I followed the twists and turns, I reminded myself not to look ahead to figure out what was next, just to be led along the spiraling path and to focus on my steps, on where I was at any given moment.
No great epiphany arrived, but I’m out of practice when it comes to prayer. I consider myself an Episcopalian, but a lazy one. Sewanee is a good place for me, where I can nod to the Episcopal priests I pass on campus and hear the bells of All Saints marking time throughout my day — but not feel compelled to go inside. When I do pray, it’s most often the writer Anne LaMott‘s catch-all formula of either “Help me, God” or “Thank you, God.”
I’m up next in workshop
This coming week, it’s my turn to receive feedback on a short story in workshop, so I think both of Lamott’s’ prayers will be appropriate. Help me, because historically I’ve been too shy to show my writing to others, and thank you, because the Sewanee MFA is my chance to learn to write better.
The story takes place in Chapel Hill before Roe v. Wade, and the protagonist is a mother faced with a difficult decision when her daughter asks for help. It’s set in 1972, before many of my classmates were born — back when you could smoke on airplanes and phones were attached to the wall.
I’m looking forward to hearing what they think, and to their suggestions for improvement. And afterwards, when I emerge from that highly air-conditioned classroom at 5 o’clock, I’ll probably head straight for Abbo’s Alley to process everything I heard.
