On Mazes and Labyrinths: From Ancient Times to the Present

Labyrinths date back over 4,000 years, appearing first in ancient Minoan Crete around 1900–1400 BCE, where the mythic Labyrinth of Knossos housed the Minotaur. Early labyrinthine designs also appeared in Egyptian tombs, Etruscan pottery, and later Greek coins. In the Roman era, mosaic labyrinths decorated villas and baths, purportedly symbolizing order and protection. During the Middle Ages, Christians incorporated stone or tile designs in cathedrals like Chartres (c. 1200 CE) representing a spiritual journey toward God. Over time, labyrinths evolved from mythic mazes to meditative symbols of pilgrimage, contemplation, and the human search for meaning.

The earliest literary reference to labyrinths is the original legend of Theseus and the Minotaur. The labyrinth was built by Daedalus for King Minos of Crete. Theseus must enter the labyrinth and slay the Minotaur, a beast with the head of a bull and body of a man. For an innovative twist on this tale read Theseus by Andre Gide, which can be found in his book Two Legends.

Miguel de Cervantes, in his timeless masterpiece Don Quixote, employs the labyrinth as a metaphor for the mind. The valiant yet deluded knight errant navigates through a maze of his own making, lost in the labyrinth of his fantasies and delusions—a metaphor that resonates with us even today. Cervantes writes, "When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?" (Note the connections between Don Quixote and Sinne Eeg's Windmills of Your Mind.)

Labyrinths are featured in many other literary works including Dante's Inferno, Jorge Luis Borges' The Garden of Forking Paths, Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, and James Joyce's Ulysses.

My own interest in labyrinths (a.k.a. mazes) stretches back to my high school years. Here are a handful that I created sometime in the past. In attempting to "test" them before sharing I discovered that one, and maybe two, were unsolvable. Click to enlarge, or download and print. See how many of these you can find solutions for.

 

Related Links

Unraveling the Labyrinth: Literary Connections from Theseus to Borges

Jorge Luis Borges: An Introduction

Censorship Is a Tool of Those in Power

100 years ago you could not read James Joyce's Ulysses. It was declared obscene. Many other books were deemed such so that for liberal authors "Banned In Boston" was a badge of honor. The books were banned because a Conservative worldview was dominant, and preserving "family values" was deemed to be something important.

The Sixties became a hinge-point because this predominant view of "normal" was now being challenged. What was being pursued on all fronts was a new permissiveness, with purportedly new values. Free speech, free love, freedom to protest the actions of our government were all part of this new wave. 

These thoughts came to mind as I read this stimulating article by Ed West, The West's Cultural Revolution Is Over. His premise is very direct: The Left has won.

His arguments are persuasive. One point he makes is that the rules of censorship are defined by those who have the power.  Today, the Left decides what is censored. Cancel Culture is just a nickname that softens things a little because "Censorship" is a bad word. 

The list of trigger words is growing longer by the day. Yesterday the poor Gypsy Moth has to be given another name, according to a NYTimes story. Recently even the word "Trigger" in "Trigger Words" has been banned because of its association with guns. I'm not sure what we're supposed to say, but whatever it is will likely change by next year.

Here's an observation from the article:

The new order has brought in numerous methods used by the old order to exert control — not just censorship, but word taboo and rituals which everyone is forced to go along with, or at least not openly criticize. You might call it the new intolerance, or woke extremism...

No one would satirize the transgender movement today; no one would dare point fun at BLM, or Pride month; no one would dare joke about George Floyd, because like the publishers of Gay Times in 1977, they might face jail for blasphemy.  Instead leading satirist Sacha Baron Cohen makes a living making jokes at the expense of the little people. Indeed the only satire made now pokes fun at the old establishment, like punching the corpse of a once-ferocious zoo animal, or the people who still hold the old beliefs; the elderly, the less educated, the rural and provincial. The powerless.

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THE PURPOSE OF THIS BLOG POST was to encourage you to click on this link and check out the full essay. I've only shared here a few brief snippets. You'll want to read the piece in its entirety. CLICK HERE

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Related Links

Putting Marxism In Perspective: Brief Interview with Economics Professor Evan Osborne

He Who Controls the Narrative Controls the People

The Brandeis Language Police (Story from The Atlantic)

How Important Is Skill? How Important Are The Rules?

Some say the rules don't matter anymore. At least in art. However, write a blog entry with no proper punctuation or proper spelling and no logic in the sentence shructure and content and absurd zhould people probably. Should people publish this? the Reason, or the answer, is intentionally unintentional so that four of the leading doctors would say it's nonsense. Nut itis reelly? Reilly. No'reilly.  Yes, it is abzurd, zerd. Abbs surred. Slurred, and only aftah 1 cup o'java -- ane wven thiso poop

The point is, you can get away with coloring outside the lines as an artist, and even ignore most conventions altogether when making paintings and showing your work, but can a writer do this? Yes, e.e. cummings broke rules. But he was writing poetry. Short bursts. Finnegan's Wake did not make James Joyce famous. He had already become famous so he was able to publish his last major work because his name would give it cred. How many people do you know who have actually read it? (Yes, a page or two can be interesting, but it's long and tedious. Good luck.)

It's famous for being "one of the most difficult works of literature in the English language." This is not to say "difficult" is wrong, and maybe Wake is a poor example but even Joyce didn't just throw letters on a page with no rhyme or reason. For example, here I will type with my eyes closed, without properly placing my fingers... choosing a random set of fingertip locations:

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POJRPO P'3OIRPOP3'R 4-09=-0PAJ93 830
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Evidently I must have hit the CAPS key a few times, and the return key. Is it art? Is it literature? Is it interesting? For a few moments, maybe, but will this kind of writing get published in the New York Times? In the Hermantown Star or Proctor Journal? If I started a daily blog in such a manner would people keep coming back for more? Let's call it Gibberish.

If you want to be a writer, I strongly recommend more than just a passing acquaintance with the rules of good writing. Internalize the principles of Strunk & White's The Elements of Style. Another book that helped me when I began writing half a lifetime ago was William Zinsser's On Writing Well.

The same should apply to the visual arts. I suspect that the school system is making a mistake to eliminate arts education from the public schools. Kids learn principles that are useful and necessary should they have an aptitude and interest in pursuing careers in creative fields. Art in the schools is not just to help kids get a fine arts careers. Art and aesthetics have a humanizing aspect, and learning good design has far reaching applications in many careers. Architects and city planners need skilled draftspeople. The young students who learn how to use perspective, shading, and other techniques for making pictures usually acquire these things from teachers, not parents. They also learn how various materials work -- or don't work -- such as adhesives and scissors and different media. In other words, we need to keep art in the schools so the next generation knows the rules.

Like most things in life, it's a matter of balance. Rules matter. We disregard them to our peril.

As for skill... that's a discussion to elaborate on some other day. Have a great 2016. Keep getting better, whatever it is you're applying yourself to. 

Thevam the Master Story Teller

Thevam the master story teller has redefined the worst that can happen. It may be the corn rations or the two trees on the horizon, but in one way or another the derelict de Jeanne has given all he can afford.

The boots are mere symbols. But life begins and ends with a bed number. What is it we seek? What is it that we understand. No matter, since all is none and life ends in death. The fortune is unfortunate.

Stream of consciousness writing is probably no more significant than doodles, but even doodles can be entertaining from time to time. We skim the surface of the subconscious and occasionally dredge up a whirl of insights from the depths. More often we catch water spiders, dead bugs and gum wrappers, but what the heck, it can be illuminating at times, since you never know what you'll find next.

James Joyce did it for a portion of a lifetime, and frankly, that can be a bit much. But whatever. I'd be curious to know... on second thought, I don't really care. Let the pigeons have their way.

Modern Times

The version de jour fone rife with strife, devouring all things subordinate, denying and decrying the wicker schemes of gold diggers. Destructo environs dementia, with a buzzing sound expelled from twin rods, speeding up through the wheels of progress. Modern times, the scrip of scraps and all things hinging on bolt tightening individuals cranking and cragging through eight hour shifts, till speed exceeds the capabilities of sanity. Twitch and itch, demeaning dementia, the work of maddening and monstrous systems, pressing forward as if progress were measured in output.

Charlie Chaplin, in his exemplary role, defying the times. Depth of understated volley gags, within a format rare, the lost air of former fair as dream shifts to realidades, formenting insurrection and other confections. Her smile a favored robust dream, frequentd by denial. Vagrant fortunes, undismissed, defying vagrant summer mist. No question how it came to this, the drilling cakes of cheese and wine, cracker service overtime, denying hours of luscious pain and driving patrons to the vein of measured and unmeasured schemes. If only we could live in dreams.

No matter how you cut it, this roast duck is no Finnegan's Wake... just a simple facsimile. Knock over the tables and when he who is able rises up, let him be first to cherish the cup.