The Labyrinth

While walking alone and aimlessly through a forest in Ireland, I stumbled upon a stone labyrinth. This place must be a beacon for the perceptually attuned mind, I thought—it was pure fate that I had arrived at that spot after hours of wandering.

As I approached the labyrinth, a thought occurred to me: This is a giant brain resting on the forest floor. While walking its winding path, more observations arose. I couldn’t look up at the trees or forward toward the horizon. My gaze was trapped, fixed downward on the path. There was another kind of entrapment as well—I was preoccupied with where I was being led, at times even fearful that I was going the “wrong” way. This was a Chartres-style labyrinth, featuring an interesting design that leads one outward, even while progressing toward the center. In this sense, failure is an illusion.

As I was ejected from the maze and returned to the forest, another thought came to me: my perceptual field was no longer constrained. My vision was free. I began contemplating the progression through the structures of life—and the contour of pure consciousness that floats around it. A field of abstract freedom, obscured by the fortifications of the human condition.