Hermann Kern Takes us Into, and Brings us Back Out of, the Labyrinth

 

Through the Labyrinth: Designs and Meanings Over 5,000 Years – Hermann Kern (1982)

A fascination with the story of Daedalus and his ill-fated son Icarus began early after reading a book on the Greek myths, likely found at the local library (Alief Public Libraries for the WIN!). The idea of a genius engineer forced to create a labyrinth in which to imprison King Minos’ step-son, and the story of what befell him and his son as they tried to escape, struck a nerve. As a youth, the simple lesson that a child must pay heed to his elders, especially his parents, when it comes to dangerous matters of life and death, was what drew attention. This was Icarus’ folly, that of a young man too carefree when he should be careful. It resulted in Daedalus’ tragic loss of his son, all because Icarus did not pay attention.

As an adult, reading more and more on the Greek myths, and about the idea of the labyrinth, the focus turned to the labyrinth itself. An understanding of it as allegory grew. My employment now affords the great pleasure of wandering through labyrinthine shelves (see what I did there?), each stocked with all manner of art books. Upon one of these meanderings this large book called out to me. It may be an innate skill, or perhaps the oft-rumored Library Angels really do exist, but sometimes an amazing tome will just fall in my lap. Such was the case with this book, Hermann Kern’s exhaustive, immersive, and deeply informational masterwork on labyrinths worldwide. It is packed with thousands of illustrations and photographs, and translated into English from the original German. Exceedingly awesome.

 As Hermann Kern carefully explains, over thousands of years the ancient symbol/idea of a labyrinth morphed and degraded into our currently accepted meaning, that of an intricate maze, with endless dead-ends, false passageways, and walls meant to disorient anyone inside. This idea is a disservice to the labyrinth, making it seem more of a trap, or a tool for torture and subjugation, which is evident by the time Plutarch wrote of his story of King Minos and the Minotaur. The original idea of a labyrinth was not a maze of dead ends, but a long, winding, singular path to a center. To exit a labyrinth, one must retrace their steps back through the entire thing. There are no shortcuts, and the journey in and out is where meaning is found. Labyrinths may be one of the oldest meditative tools created by humans.

Mr. Kern starts with, and reiterates throughout, the essential feature of a Labyrinth as opposed to a maze or spiral. As stated above, a labyrinth is a single path, convoluted and winding, leading to a central area within it. This is the center of the labyrinth. Once at the center, there is nothing to do but turn around and retrace your steps back through until you reach the initial entrance. This differs greatly from mazes, which may or may not have centers, and which feature countless wrong turns, dead-ends, and misleading paths. One can get lost in a maze. One cannot get lost in a labyrinth. It is this specific trait that makes the labyrinth so useful as a tool of introspection, initiation, and ritual.

The origins of the labyrinth are lost to time. What is known, and what Mr. Kern describes so well, is that the initial labyrinth was of a very specific form, what is now referred to as a Cretan Labyrinth. This very specific shape, carved in stone, has been found in many places, but is associated with Crete due to the Greek Myth discussed above. A critical aspect of the labyrinth, and its use, is called the “Thread of Ariadne.”  The Greek myth tells of how the hero Theseus entered the labyrinth, faced and killed the dreaded Minotaur, and escaped with his life. He did so by using a fine thread given to him by the Cretan princess Ariadne, which he unspooled as he entered the labyrinth and which he spooled back up as he found his way out of the labyrinth. The Greek myth tells of how Theseus then rescued Ariadne and took her away from Crete. This is a retcon of a sort, as the initial “thread” of Ariadne was simply the path taken by the labyrinth itself. Many of the oldest labyrinth images show a red line, the symbolic thread, coursing its way through the bends and twists until it arrives at the center. As a true labyrinth has no dead-ends, or meanders, there is no need for a literal thread, as told in the story of Theseus.

In the shamanic/mystical sense, the thread of Ariadne is the same thread woven by the fates when a human is born. This thread tells the story of one’s life, which lasts just as long as the Fates allow, one of them tasked with cutting off the thread marking our point of death in this world. In a labyrinth, this thread of life symbolizes the return to the womb, to the primordial beginnings, and then the return trip back to our experiential world. To walk into a labyrinth is to retrace your steps back to your creation, and to leave the labyrinth is to be re-born. The human exiting the labyrinth is not the same human that entered it. This is a deep philosophical point made visible and interactive by means of the labyrinth, which is why many of the old sanctuaries and cathedrals of Europe contain labyrinths inside. They wanted the parishioners to reflect on the journey to Christ and the rebirth afterwards, as they walked the path of the labyrinth to the center (Jesus) and back.

Apart from their mystery, meaning, and use, labyrinths themselves are just beautiful. Many of the great cathedrals contain exquisite labyrinths, tiled as perfectly as any Roman mosaic. Hermann Kern’s exhaustive search also includes many proto-labyrinth carvings whose creators are lost to us. It also includes images related to labyrinths, such as the cup and ring marks, or the many spirals, found throughout paleolithic locations. Kern differentiates between these seemingly related symbols and those of a true labyrinth, providing details and historical context for everything. Because of his rigor in collecting the data, this book has become the seminal resource for those seeking to study the history and purpose of these designs. I am very thankful that it was translated into English, and would love to find a copy of this magnificent reference work for my own personal library. Thank Mario that my workplace affords me access to such wonderful books. I have been fortunate to visit a couple of labyrinths located in my home of Houston, Texas, USA.  More will be sought and I will walk the Thread of Ariadne again.