Not all those who wander are lost. Confusion, wandering, isolation, darkness, disorientation—everything evokes the labyrinth, a complex network of paths where it is difficult to find the exit. Or is it? Nowadays, the term labyrinth is used synonymously with maze, which is technically incorrect. As we will see, the original meaning of the labyrinth has been completely distorted, which is to be expected from such a perplexing symbol. The labyrinth is an archetype, a primordial image that dates back to the Bronze Age (around 2500 to 2000 B.C.), making it one of the oldest symbols. The earliest labyrinths are found in petroglyphs of prehistoric origin, mainly in Europe. In the Spanish province of Galicia, many labyrinths appear, some with carvings of deer and other wild animals, perhaps magical symbols for hunting. In Castilla y León, there are two large rocks, each with three strange labyrinths. In Naquane, Italy, an Iron Age labyrinth is surrounded by crowds of warriors; in the Tomb of Sardinia, we find a labyrinth located within a tomb, suggesting that it may have been a symbol of rebirth or the afterlife; and in a labyrinth in the Valley of Camonica, a man is depicted standing with arms raised in prayer. These, among many others, can be considered the first prototypes. Labyrinths are also found

constructed with stone and pebbles, especially in Nordic countries and Russia, most of which date from the late Middle Ages (from 1300 to 1500 AD). Nowadays, the labyrinth can be found everywhere: in architecture, art, books, films, and games. The archetypal image of the labyrinth fundamentally expresses the path of life, filled with dark corners and unexpected turns. If we overcome them, we transform and illuminate ourselves; if not, we become disoriented and find life meaningless and Kafkaesque. This reflects the ancient quest for self-realization. In the cosmology of the O'odham people, a Native American tribe, the creator god I'itoi is represented as the figure known as the Man in the Labyrinth. This labyrinth, which he enters by magical means, serves as protection against enemies and simultaneously allows him to emerge to help his people in times of great need. The labyrinth represents life itself, with its twists and turns. Upon reaching the center, we can remember the path we have traveled. That is when the Sun God comes to bless you and tell you that you have succeeded; that is when you die and pass to the other world. From inside the labyrinth, the view is extremely restricted and confusing, while from above one discovers a supreme art and order. The labyrinth is a paradox that simultaneously incorporates chaos and order. This is one of the reasons it has been misunderstood. The labyrinth is most commonly associated with the

The Minoan civilization, a Bronze Age culture on the island of Crete, now part of Greece. The classic or archetypal pattern of the labyrinth consists of a single path that goes back and forth to form seven circuits. It is also known as the Labyrinth of Crete. The oldest example of this is found on a clay tablet with inscriptions from the Mycenaean palace of Pylos in southern Greece, preserved accidentally by the fire that destroyed the palace around 1200 BC. On the back of the tablet, it is written: A jar of honey for all the gods, a jar of honey for the Lady of the Labyrinth (possibly referring to Ariadne). This pattern of seven rows is displayed on coins decorated with labyrinths from Knossos. The word labyrinth comes from the Greek labyrinthos. The first known application of this term refers to a huge structure in Egypt. The Greek historian Herodotus, from the 5th century BC, visited the labyrinth and claimed it surpassed even the pyramids. He uses the term as if it were a generic concept to describe a large, impressive, and skillfully constructed stone complex. The Labyrinth of Egypt, as it is known, was among the wonders of the world and constituted a funerary temple that once stood near the base of Pharaoh Amenemhet III's pyramid, who ruled around 1800 BC.

Only through later historians was a connection established between the Egyptian labyrinth and the maze motif, although it was a modest precursor to the labyrinth. The first-century BC historian Diodorus of Sicily wrote that a man who enters the labyrinth cannot easily find his way out, and a century later, Pliny the Elder referred to it as a bewildering labyrinth of passages, claiming that the Cretan labyrinth was nothing more than an imitation of the Egyptian labyrinth, a hundred times smaller. Thus, for the first time, the labyrinth was compared to the confusing corridors associated with the maze. The descriptions by these later authors of such paths are not accounts of personal experiences but reflect the development of ideas now linked to the concept of the labyrinth. In Plato's dialogue Euthydemus, written around 400 BC, the labyrinth is used as a metaphor in a practical manner: Then we entered a labyrinth, and when we thought we were at the end, we found ourselves back at the beginning, still having to search as much as ever. This metaphor is based on how one moves in a classical labyrinth, which has a single path (unicursal) that guarantees progress without obstacles, although often through the most complex and winding routes. But there are no false turns possible, and by following the path, you will eventually reach the center. This is the labyrinth in its true and original form, whose early

prototypes date back to the Bronze Age. Mazes, on the other hand, trace their origins to the late medieval period and have multiple paths (multicursal). They confuse us with multiple options, dead ends, and the threat of getting lost. The word maze likely derives from the Old English word mæs, meaning “confusion or bewilderment,” which in turn comes from the Old Norse word mása. This is where our word “amazement” comes from. The earliest designs of labyrinths were apparently used as defensive structures for military purposes. Similarly, in the Hindu epic Mahabharata, the longest poem ever written, the chakra-vyūha (wheel formation) is a labyrinthine military formation with multiple defensive walls. It has seven layers of soldiers moving quickly in both clockwise and counterclockwise directions to confuse and trap all enemies within this deadly rotating machine. The outer layers are manned by ordinary soldiers, while the inner layers contain elite warriors, and at the center is the commander-in-chief. Designed for defense, it also has offensive elements. During the great battle, Abhimanyu, the son of Arjuna, learned how to penetrate this battle formation but did not know how to find the way out again. Despite fighting bravely and reaching the center, he was overwhelmed by the enemy on all sides and

miedo y desorientación. Esta sensación de estar atrapado entre múltiples opciones puede ser paralizante, y la maze se convierte en una metáfora de esta lucha interna. La búsqueda de la verdad y el sentido en medio de la confusión es un tema recurrente en la literatura y el arte contemporáneo, donde los personajes a menudo se enfrentan a decisiones difíciles y caminos inciertos. En este contexto, el laberinto y la maze representan no solo un desafío físico, sino también un viaje emocional y psicológico hacia el autoconocimiento y la resolución de conflictos internos.

fear. As Friedrich Nietzsche said, When you stare long enough into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. This existential anxiety is not a fear of specific things, but rather an abstract and profound sense of disorientation. You have the potential to choose from a sea of infinite possibilities; the problem lies in what to choose between. For Kierkegaard, we either get lost in the finite, which leads us to anxiety through a sense of emptiness by focusing solely on the finite, on immediate pleasures and concerns, or we get lost in the infinite, where anxiety arises as we escape towards spiritual aspirations while neglecting our daily responsibilities and duties. Human beings are a synthesis of the finite and the infinite, and therefore must balance both. To quote Nietzsche again, He who has a why to live can bear almost any how. Choosing a path in life requires responsibility, which can be a very heavy burden. However, as long as you act with your heart, you will be doing something meaningful and destined. We may think that a certain outcome is bad, but, as the Stoics emphasize, our perceptions of good and evil are limited. Something we consider bad may end up being good, and vice versa. Thus, as Seneca writes in Letters from a Stoic, We suffer more in imagination than in reality. The Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges is known for his frequent use of the labyrinth symbol. In his novel The Garden of Forking Paths, Borges goes further into

explorar el concepto de un camino que se bifurca. Cada camino que recorres en la vida se divide posteriormente en otros dos caminos, ad infinitum. Pero estos no solo siguen un camino lineal divergente, sino que también son convergentes y paralelos. Todos los resultados posibles de decisiones y eventos existen simultáneamente en una compleja red ramificada de líneas de tiempo alternativas. En otras palabras, los caminos que no recorriste no seguirán su propio curso hasta el infinito, sino que eventualmente convergerán con tu camino. El tiempo mismo es un laberinto. Es el mundo metafísico en el que todos estamos inmersos. No hay necesidad de construir un laberinto cuando el universo entero es uno. Para comprender mejor el enigmático símbolo del laberinto, debemos indagar en sus orígenes en la mitología griega. El rey Minos de Creta oró al dios del mar, Poseidón, para que le diera una señal divina que demostrara su derecho a gobernar. Poseidón envió un magnífico toro blanco desde el mar, que Minos debía sacrificar en honor al dios. Encantado por la belleza del toro, Minos decidió quedárselo y sacrificar un toro diferente. Este acto de desafío enfureció a Poseidón. Para castigar a Minos por su engaño, Poseidón hizo que su esposa, la reina Pasifae, se enam

Mating with the bull, the union between Pasiphae and the bull resulted in the birth of Asterius, the Minotaur (literally, the bull of Minos), a creature that is half man and half bull. In classical art, he is depicted with the body of a man and the head of a bull; in later developments, he is shown with the head and torso of a man on the body of a bull, resembling a centaur. As the Minotaur grew, the terrifying beast became increasingly violent and began to devour people. This served as a constant reminder that Minos disobeyed the gods. Psychologically, the Minotaur represents the shadow (the unknown and repressed qualities). Fearful and ashamed of his stepson, Minos asked Daedalus to build a tremendous labyrinth to hide the creature. The invention was so intricate that Daedalus himself, when he finished, could barely find his way back to the entrance. This proved useful to the king, allowing him to dispose of his enemies while simultaneously hiding and feeding the Minotaur, who now only ate humans. When Minos' eldest son came of age, he traveled to Athens to participate in the so-called Panathenaic Games. Somehow, he died, and Minos blamed Athens for his loss. As restitution, he demanded that King Aegeus pay a tribute every nine years of seven young men and seven maidens.

These unfortunate individuals, chosen by lottery, would be sent to Crete on a ship with black sails, paraded before the people, and thrown into the Labyrinth. As the third payment approached, the hero Theseus took the place of one of the youths and volunteered to kill the Minotaur. He set off with a black sail, promising his father that if he succeeded, he would return with a white sail. In Crete, Ariadne, the daughter of Minos, fell in love with Theseus and, following the advice of Daedalus, gave him a clew (a ball of thread or yarn). He tied it at the entrance of the labyrinth so he could later escape by following the thread. This gives us the modern word clue (something that points the way) and clueless. Since then, the thread of Ariadne has become the archetypal image to help us navigate through a confusing or complicated situation. The way out of the labyrinth is to follow the thread of the soul. In Jungian terms, Ariadne is the guiding power of the anima (the feminine soul in man), which helps the hero in his katabasis (descent into the underworld), similar to the role of Beatrice in Dante's Divine Comedy. After Theseus kills the Minotaur, he leads the Athenians out of the labyrinth, and they sail away from Crete. Before reaching home, Theseus and the rescued victims

Dance of the Crane, in which they performed the movements of threading the labyrinth. Theseus abandons Ariadne on the island of Naxos, and Dionysus marries her. In one of Nietzsche's last letters before his mental collapse, he wrote to Cosima Wagner: “Ariadne, I love you!” Signed: Dionysus. Theseus completely forgets to replace the black sail with the promised white sail, and King Aegeus sees the ship with black sails approaching. Assuming that his son is dead, he jumps into the sea, which has since borne his name. His death secured the throne for Theseus. Minos suspects that Daedalus had revealed the secrets of the labyrinth to Theseus and imprisons him and his son Icarus in the labyrinth. Daedalus constructed wings for them to escape and warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun or the heat would melt the wax. He ignored his father's instructions, fell from the sky, plunged into the sea, and drowned. It is unknown whether this mythical labyrinth actually existed. For the original inspiration of this myth, most scholars point to the ruins of the vast palace complex of Knossos, which was fundamental to Minoan civilization, discovered by British archaeologist Sir Arthur Evans in the 19th century. The labyrinthine design, with its numerous rooms and corridors, was due to design rather than accident. The Central Court was considered the final destination.

of the village and likely served as a stage for communal ceremonies. Reaching it required navigating through the symbolic palace space, a journey reminiscent of the rebirth experienced in the center of a labyrinth. In this context, altered states of consciousness were shaped by the environment, not just by internal cognitive processes. In the palace, a fragment of a fresco with a labyrinthine design was discovered, dating from 1700 to 1600 BC. Additionally, the figure of the bull was crucial for the Minoans; the symbol of the horns of consecration is omnipresent, and the bull-leaping ritual is known to be one of the key rituals of their religion. Although the word labyrinthos remains of unknown origin, scholars have linked it to the Mycenaean Greek term da-pu-ri-to, which traces back to the Minoan word du-pu-re. This term is associated with Mount Ida, known as the Mountain of the Goddess, and is connected to sacred caves, particularly those in Gortina, Crete. It has been suggested that the caves were the original inspiration for the mythical labyrinth, although they appear labyrinthine. The French botanist JP de Tournefort writes about visiting this underground passage next to a discreet hole in the rock on a steep part of Mount Ida, finding himself in an intricately winding passage. CR Cockerell visits the same place and writes in his diary: The clearly intentional complexity and...

the seemingly endless number of galleries impressed me with a sense of horror and fascination that I cannot describe. Every ten steps, one was stopped and had to turn right or left, sometimes to choose one of three or four paths.” The myth of the Minotaur has given us the first hints of the symbolism of the labyrinth. However, while myths reflect fundamental patterns of the human psyche, they still incorporate cultural elements that can obscure deeper archetypal symbolism. As we have seen, caves have been considered as inspiration for the mythical labyrinth. In his book Labyrinth: Studies on an Archetype, Gaetano Cipolla supports this idea by highlighting that caves and labyrinths share the same symbolism. Caves, the original dwellings of early humans, not only served as protective places but also as sacred spaces for magical rituals and initiation rites. As burial places for their deceased ancestors, caves were closely associated with the underworld or the afterlife. Crossing the threshold into these chthonic realms symbolized a mystical return to Mother Earth, from whose womb all things originate. Jungian analyst Joseph Henderson writes: “In all cultures, the labyrinth signifies a tangled and confusing representation of the world of matriarchal consciousness; only those who are prepared for a special initiation can traverse it.”

the mysterious world of the collective unconscious. The labyrinth is related to birth. Spirals and meanders, precursors of the labyrinth, have been found among the cave paintings of prehistoric peoples, often engraved on or near statuettes of goddesses and carved animals. These labyrinthine spirals indicate the symbolic passage from the visible realm of the human to the invisible dimension of the divine, tracing the journey that the souls of the dead would have taken to re-enter the womb of the mother on their path toward rebirth. It is no coincidence that in India, the labyrinth or yantra has traditionally been used as a magical practice to alleviate the pains of childbirth. For the Hopi Native Americans, the labyrinth is a symbol of the Great Mother, birth, and reincarnation. It is possible that the term labyrinth originally denoted a dance whose path was determined by the classic pattern of the labyrinth, as emphasized by the Hungarian scholar Karl Kerenyi in his book Labyrinth Studies. This would connect with the Crane Dance. Body movement is the primary and most direct form of expression. This recalls Nataraja, a representation of Shiva as the divine cosmic dancer, the dance of life itself, which includes the creation, preservation, and destruction of the universe. The labyrinth is also one of the oldest apotropaic symbols. Almost all Roman mosaic labyrinths represent

a la dirección de lo femenino) a derecha (la dirección del sol). Esta danza entre las direcciones simboliza el equilibrio entre las fuerzas opuestas y la integración de los opuestos en el proceso de transformación. El laberinto, por lo tanto, no es solo un lugar de confusión, sino un espacio sagrado donde el viaje hacia el interior permite la revelación de verdades profundas y el autodescubrimiento.

towards death or unconsciousness) to the right (the direction in which the sun travels, that is, life or consciousness). Psychologically, the labyrinth symbolizes a descent into the underworld. The Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung writes: “The labyrinth is actually a primordial image that in psychology is mainly found in the form of the fantasy of a descent into the underworld. In most cases, however, the topography of the unconscious is not expressed in the concentrated form of the labyrinth but in the false paths, deceptions, and dangers of a journey to the underworld.” This description recalls the Egyptian representation of the underworld. In the Book of the Gates, a funerary text from ancient Egypt, the soul of the deceased must traverse a labyrinthine structure with a series of doors and encounter various obstacles, terrifying entities, and trials. The Book of the Dead contains spells and instructions to help the deceased navigate through this realm. Dante's description of hell, on the other hand, consists of nine concentric circles, each becoming increasingly tortuous as one descends, with Satan residing at the center. “Midway along the journey of our life, I awoke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had wandered off from the straight path.” These are the famous words of Dante in the Divine Comedy, before entering through the gates of hell.

above which is written: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. Note that Dante says it is the journey of our life, meaning it is an archetypal pattern that we all share. The journey to a dark realm in search of wisdom is universal. The dark night of the soul described by Jung in The Red Book illustrates this. While it may seem that we are alone on this outward journey, we are always accompanied by other figures in our unconscious manifestations. Joseph Campbell writes, And so it happens that if someone—in any society—embarks on the dangerous journey into darkness, whether intentionally or not, descending into the twisted paths of their own spiritual labyrinth, they soon find themselves in a landscape of symbolic figures. Paradoxically, you find yourself when you lose yourself, because it is then that most of us seek help within. The unconscious knows more about us than we do ourselves. It is the supreme source of wisdom and the master pattern of our lives. Jung writes, When no internal response arises to the problems and complexities of life, they ultimately mean very little. External circumstances do not substitute for internal experience. Therefore, my life has been singularly poor in external events. I cannot say much about them, because it would seem empty and insubstantial. I can only understand myself in light of internal events. It is these that constitute the uniqueness of my life. When we lack a sense of direction,

The world seems like a giant labyrinth. The way out of this confusing mass or inner tangle, as the alchemists used to say, is to reach the center, the symbol of fullness par excellence. The path, however, is never straight but winding. Jung writes: “[Art requires the whole person],” exclaims an old alchemist. It is precisely this homo totus [whole person] that we seek... But the correct path to fullness is unfortunately made up of fateful detours and wrong turns. It is the longissima via [longest way], not straight but serpentine, a path that unites opposites in the manner of the guiding caduceus, a path whose labyrinthine turns are not without terrors. It is on this longissima via that we encounter those experiences that are said to be inaccessible. Their inaccessibility actually consists in the fact that they require an enormous effort from us: they demand precisely what we fear the most, namely, the “fullness” that we talk about so lightly and which lends itself to infinite theorizing, even though in real life we give it the widest margin possible. Although we all desire and talk about fullness, we simultaneously do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing our own soul. We seek the light, only to fall into darkness. We idealize perfection, but life demands fullness and, as Jung says, for this we need the 'thorn in the flesh,' the

In the alchemical work of 1672, The Green Lion or The Light of the Philosophers, a labyrinth appears as a sanctuary of the philosopher's stone. Several elements are present, with the most important being the sun and the moon above the sanctuary, the classic planetary spheres, along with the alchemical symbols of salt, mercury, and sulfur (body, spirit, and soul). The planets also represent metals. The correspondences between events in the sky and those on Earth are seen in a microcosm-macrocosm relationship. In the foreground, there is an angel with the thread of Ariadne, attempting to guide the couple into the labyrinth. Here, the labyrinth symbolizes the difficulties of the Great Work of alchemical transmutation. Alchemists emphasized that the miracle of the stone could only occur Deo concedente (if God wills). The center has always been considered a sacred space. It is where one enters the special world and receives new knowledge about oneself, others, and the world. We move from the profane to the sacred, as Mircea Eliade states. Here is where we find the hard-to-reach treasure, the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life, the diamond body, etc., symbols of what Jung calls the Self (the image of God or total personality). As many mystics have pointed out, He who knows himself knows God. The center is a place of...

numinous, it is what Rudolf Otto calls mysterium tremendum et fascinans, a mystery that is both terrifying and fascinating. It is impressive. Many people think that reaching the center is the ultimate goal of self-realization. But in reality, it is only half of the journey. After that, one must exit the labyrinth, returning to the beginning, back to the ordinary world, but this time as a transformed person, seeing the world with new eyes. It is a death and a spiritual rebirth. T.S. Eliot wrote: And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. Of course, this is a cyclical process that lasts a lifetime. The path to individuation is like a labyrinthine spiral, following the process of circumambulation, where one moves in a series of concentric circles, that is, circles that share the same center. Hermes Trismegistus writes in the Emerald Tablet: It is true, without falsehood, certain and exceedingly true. What is below is like what is above, and what is above is like what is below, to accomplish the miracle of one thing... Ascend from the earth to the sky, and descend again to the earth, and receive the power of what is above and what is below. Thus, you will have the glory of the whole world. Therefore, all darkness will flee from you. The journey to the center of the

the boundaries between the material and the spiritual, allowing for a deeper connection to the divine meaning in life. The same idea exists in the hero's journey, where after leaving the ordinary world and entering the special world, one must return with the elixir to the former. The elixir is something that the hero can share with others, or something with healing power: wisdom, love, or simply the experience of surviving in a special world. Similarly, Kierkegaard's knight of faith does not renounce the world, but returns to it with full commitment, performing a double movement: from finitude to infinity and back to finitude, so that with each step he realizes the movement of infinity. He possesses extraordinary faith in God that transcends the world. In the Middle Ages, labyrinths were taken as symbols of the path to redemption or the path to God. Many were created in churches and cathedrals as architectural elements, and a spectacular increase in interest arose during the so-called Gothic Renaissance. Perhaps the most popular medieval labyrinth is that of Chartres Cathedral in France, which is considered a substitute for the pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Here, the labyrinth becomes a symbolic path for a spiritual journey; the twists and turns are the obstacles on the road to salvation. During the walk, some describe having experienced time and space differently. It is as if the labyrinth becomes a liminal space, blurring

the boundary between the inner world and the outer world, which metaphysically are two sides of the same coin (the unus mundus or one world). This inner journey has commonly been represented as a pilgrim on a spiritual quest. In the enormously influential book of religious emblems from the 17th century, Pia Desideria (Pious Desires), Herman Hugo depicts a pilgrim standing at the center of a labyrinth. He seeks the exit at the bottom, which leads to the castle of heaven, above which an angel guides the pilgrim with the thread of Ariadne, symbolizing the Word of God. What is unique about this design is that the walls of the labyrinth are, in fact, the path that the pilgrim must traverse. Therefore, the danger lies in the possibility of falling; indeed, two figures are shown doing just that, while the blind man with his dog—an image of trusting one's instincts—finds his way. The beacon of the castle of heaven guides ships at sea; two wanderers are depicted attempting to climb the mountain of heaven, one of whom falls. Below the engraving, the motto appears: Oh, if my ways were directed to keep your statutes. In the woodcut by Matteo Silvaggi from 1542, Labyrinth of Earthly Love, Pluto King of the Underworld appears in the flames of Mount Etna, with a banner pointing to the entrance of the labyrinth that says first

In the other banners, it is inscribed Lust Burns and Self-Love. In the center, it carries the inscription: Up, to the face of God. Changing the scene from hell to heaven, the Labyrinth of Divine Love emphasizes God's love and complete absorption in God. In his 1623 book, The Labyrinth of the World and the Paradise of the Heart, Czech writer John Amos Comenius describes an allegory of a pilgrim's journey through a city that represents the labyrinth of the world. The protagonist, known as the Pilgrim, seeks understanding and meaning in life in a society plagued by confusion and moral corruption. Guided by Mr. Ubiquitous and Mr. Illusion, symbols of curiosity and deception, the Pilgrim encounters people consumed by vanity, greed, and moral corruption. Witnessing the quest for power and status at the cost of integrity, he becomes disillusioned. Then, Christ appears to the Pilgrim to be a light in the world and guide others. The Pilgrim discovers that true peace is found within, in the paradise of the heart, and while the world is a labyrinth, the heart can be a paradise when aligned with God. Similarly, John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress, published in 1678, follows Christian, a pilgrim burdened by a heavy load (symbolizing sin),

he leaves everything behind to seek salvation. Directed toward the narrow gate, he is pursued by Obstinate and Flexible, who intend to bring him back, but he refuses to return to the City of Destruction. Obstinate leaves, considering Christian to be insane, while Flexible joins him, hoping to partake in the treasures of the Celestial City. During their journey, they fall into the Slough of Despond, a deep swamp where Christian continues to sink because his burden is heavy. Flexible manages to get out and abandons him. However, Flexible is ridiculed by his compatriots for retreating after facing the first difficulty. Christian is rescued by Help and continues his journey. Surprisingly, his burdens quickly disappear at the beginning of the novel. He continues his path toward Paradise, facing various challenges such as Difficulty Hill, the Valley of Humiliation, the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and the River of Death. The archetype of the labyrinth encompasses various images: the path of life, Mother Earth, birth, dance, protection against evil, initiation, liminality, descent into the underworld, death and symbolic rebirth, the journey toward the self, the Great Alchemical Work, and the spiritual path of the pilgrim. When we realize that the labyrinthine twists and turns of our life are part of something greater,

We can find meaning. When we realize that it is within ourselves where we must seek happiness, it will also be reflected on the outside. And if you fulfill your duty, you will feel satisfied; if not, you will be miserable. The path to truth is a solitary journey, but as Jung quoted an old alchemist: No matter how isolated you are and how alone you feel, if you do your work truly and conscientiously, unknown friends will come to seek you. By realizing the essence of our soul, we simultaneously connect with all living beings, nature, and the cosmos; that is to say, with God, who straightens the crooked paths.

Through the Labyrinth: A Guide to Navigating Chaos and Confusion

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