Labyrinth

Zebulun found himself in the desert, in a valley surrounded by mountains. It was sunset, the hot desert air turning cool.

Before him, near the center of the valley, stood towering walls of granite stretching far to his left and right. A narrow aperture beckoned. He went towards it. As he grew closer, he realized the aperture was ten feet across; it looked narrow due to the sheer height of the walls, which were closer to ninety.

Zebulun looked inside. A short distance in, the tunnel took a sharp turn to the right. He looked up and saw a strip of sky between the two walls. A strange moss glowed soft and blue where the walls met the earth. He went in.

The initial turn led to a long, circular path throughout the structure. Zebulun was sure he was near the entrance when he reached a horseshoe bend to the right. The tunnel seemed to circle almost back to the beginning before the next horseshoe bent right again.

And so he went, his way lit only by stars and glowing moss. The tunnel twisted and turned, often horseshoeing, but never crossed itself or offered a choice of path. The paths before turns grew shorter as he neared the center.

After an expanse of time and distance, he reached the oasis in the middle of the labyrinth. Cool water flowed from a spring surrounded by lush vegetation. He saw thousands of stars in the sky above. In the center, on a hill, sat a marble temple illuminated by soft moonlight. Massive stone columns supported the edifice. It looked like something out of old legends he’d heard; tales of a better, forgotten time.

A granite staircase set into the hill offered a way up. Zebulun ascended.

The temple was dark and quiet, but the giants within seemed to radiate an ethereal light. Zebulun recognized them as gods. Ram, Father of Truth and Reason. Luva, Mother of Love and Understanding. Zebulun knelt before them.

"Rise, child," said Luva. "You are welcome here."

Zebulun stood and looked up at them.

"The labyrinth," said Ram, "is symbolic of the circuitous path you took to arrive here."

"That path had few choices," said Zebulun.

"Untrue," said Ram. "You had two choices, every step along the way: go forward, or turn back. You went forward."

"You’ve always gone forward," said Luva. "That’s why you’ve been summoned."

"You called me here?" asked Zebulun.

"Not us," said Ram. "The Creator."

"Of what?" asked Zebulun.

"The world," said Ram.

"I thought the two of you made the world," said Zebulun. "I remember that from temple."

"No," said Luva, "You created that story yourselves." She smiled kindly down at him. "You created us."

"I don’t understand," said Zebulun.

"You’re in the Dreamlands," said Ram, "the realm of memory and experience. These are the borderlands between the physical and the ideal. We exist here. You’ll have to pass through the ideal realms to meet The Creator."

"How?" asked Zebulun.

"You have to ascend," said Ram.

Zebulun thought for a moment. He focused his will and levitated into the air.

"Not like that," said Ram, looking amused.

"It’s more like moving out than up," said Luva. "Just as you had to shed your physical form to come here, you must shed your astral form to rise to the mental plane."

"You have another potion for me?"

"No," she said smiling. "It’s like meditation. You have to ignore your senses and quiet your mind. Imagine the feeling you have when you sit quietly at a riverbank, listening to the water, thinking of nothing. You’ll have to do something similar, for each plane you traverse, until you reach the apex."

Ram pointed to a cushion on the floor. "Go on," he said. "Try."

Zebulun sat cross-legged on the pillow. He closed his dream-eyes and ignored the outer realm around him. Quieting his mind was trivial. He knew well how to enter a state of absolute focus from years of hunting and soldiering. Within moments, he began to transcend.

He entered a realm in which there was no sensation. No light, no sound, no language. A realm of pure concept — a way of thinking prior to language or logic. Zebulun ascended the ladder of abstraction, going from concrete ideas to ones of increasingly greater generality, until he reached the concept of existence itself. He shed his mind and identity and ascended once more.

He reached the spiritual plane: a place of pure existence, filled with the simple joy of being. Warmth and healing filled his spirit. He remained there for an eternity, then gave up his need to exist and ascended to The Absolute.