Unlike walking a maze, which has a variety of alternative paths to follow, and which therefore so easily can lead us into disorienting confusion, a labyrinth, in spite of its many convolutions, has only one path which we may reliably and trustingly follow all the way to the centre. So in spite of its maze-like appearance it is still possible to trace a path from the entrance to the very centre in one continuous line, even though we at times must necessarily double back upon ourselves. The labyrinth is therefore also promising the one who walks it that the centre always will be reached, no matter how many twists and turns in the path might be involved.
So there is a clear difference between a labyrinth and a maze, even though the two terms are sometimes used interchangeably. The confusion which exists between the terms is perhaps understandable, given the story of the most famous labyrinth in history, the Labyrinth of Ancient Crete housing the dreaded Minotaur which, because of its many alternative passageways, was actually a maze!
This difference between a labyrinth and a maze asks a question of us: the question as to why, when the winding path of the labyrinth is so ultimately predictable in its destination, would we spend our time walking it at all? This question becomes even more pointed when we consider that various existing labyrinths, either carved in stone on a column in Lucca Cathedral in Italy, or inset into a floor in tiles as in the cathedral of Chartres, or even crafted into a landscape with stones or furrows of earth, have no actual ‘walls’ as such, but can readily be viewed by us in their totality.
These true labyrinths have no need for a confusing puzzle. The point is to follow the path itself, to walk or trace out with our fingertips that continuous line leading to the labyrinth’s mysterious heart. It is the sense of gathering energy, of being on the way to something, which is what matters. And just as the form of the Grail is said to change according to who is seeking it, what that ‘something’ is which lies at the centre of each labyrinth will vary according to who is tracing out the path.
For some the winding path will represent a journey which draws them ever inwards to a spiritual truth. For others it will serve as a renewal of vital earth energies, as a reinvigorating of the flow of subtle currents beneath their rhythmic steps. And for others it might express a desire to regain a lost contact, both with their ancient forebears who constructed the labyrinth and with the earth itself. So for our ancestors – and for us – to trace out our steps to the labyrinth’s centre may well bring the prospect of true peace and equanimity when we reach its heart.
