The Maze

A story if I may…

The Maze

The entrance to the maze looked like nothing anyone could have ever described. All along the walls of its initial hallways there were so many brand new things… sounds turned into language… language birthed a self… and that self started out trying to define itself. But you see, that’s the problem. Because it knew instinctually that to define something is to devalue it. And that inherent appreciation for all the wonderful experiences this maze had brought before… elation amidst imagination filled days, deep sadness at the loss of a first toy, pet, and eventually friend. Then the maze takes a sharp curve downward. Everything seems to start moving faster only  to become more confusing. At this point, if that self was still trying to find definition, then wouldn’t that mean that it must have something it wants to be? But to want something is to value it above other things and the problem with that is it goes against what we instinctually know to be true – all things are beautiful in a certain way. That is to say we always knew that everything was meant to be beautiful. As the maze began to take a steeper incline upward, it brought with it experiences of failure and success. Ecstasy followed shortly after by despair. Things other people seemed to value began to confuse us – persuade us even – to believe in their values instead of the ones we knew to be true. Yet once we are persuaded the first time, it leads us down a path with no standard distance. That is to say no, we never really where or how long they will take to find out that those paths are not the way. And yet, that self puts all its energy into climbing the ever steepening incline. The further it tries to climb the steeper it gets until eventually, this poor ol’ self is crawling up it – as long as its energy will last. And when that energy runs out, it sees that giving up on this maze doesn’t really mean giving up all together. Curiously however, at this exact point a tremendous weight is lifted from it’s shoulders. All at once, hanging from this cliff that was once a maze, we realize that we never really needed to enter the maze in the first place. The more we look back on it the more it seems like we made it up all along. We realize that we never needed to ask the question of “Who am I?” in the first place. In fact, the real maze… the one we were perhaps supposed to take all along, was in the other direction. 

 

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