The pyramids: More than just tombs, they are the ladder to heaven for ancient Egyptian civilization.

Dec 6, 2025
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Before going to Egypt, my understanding of the pyramids was the same as most people’s: the pharaohs’ tombs, one of the wonders of the world, a massive pile of stones. They lay quietly on the glossy pages of history textbooks—something already concluded, a static piece of knowledge.

Until I stood on the sands of the Giza Plateau, scorched by the blazing sun and brushed by desert winds. When the Great Pyramid of Khufu rose before me with its overwhelming mass and presence, all those flat, lifeless words in my mind instantly collapsed. In that moment, I suddenly understood: the pyramid has never been a “dead” relic. It is a grand declaration—written in stone by the ancient Egyptians to the universe—about life and eternity.

I. “Built by Them”: Whose will, whose power?

We often credit the glory of the pyramids to the pharaohs—and that isn’t wrong. But the ones who truly lifted the stones were countless unnamed “them.”

The traditional belief that the pyramids were built by slaves is likely one of history’s greatest misunderstandings. Archaeological discoveries in the workers’ village near the pyramids have completely overturned this tragic narrative. There were bakeries, breweries, infirmaries, and even skeletal remains showing evidence of successful orthopedic surgery. Workers shared beef and mutton and received clothing as a form of “wages.”

They were not slaves, but most likely farmers working during the agricultural off-season, or skilled craftsmen recruited from across the country. For them, building the pharaoh’s “machine of immortality” was seen as a sacred public service—something they carried out with a sense of honor. Each massive stone may bear the proud graffiti marks of a particular team of builders.

So the pyramids’ “built by them” is the product of the pharaoh’s will combined with the wisdom, labor, and belief of thousands of craftsmen. It is not a symbol of oppression, but a miraculous feat of collective social mobilization.

II. Why a “Pyramid”? The Cosmic Code in Its Shape

Why did it have to be this simple, stable, sky-pointing form?

The rays of the sun:
The most poetic explanation. The ancient Egyptians worshipped the sun god Ra. The pyramid’s smooth sides—originally covered in gleaming white limestone, with a golden capstone—would have shone like cascading rays of sunlight. After death, the pharaoh would ascend along this path of light to unite with the sun god.

The primordial mound:
According to Egyptian creation myths, the world began with the first mound of earth rising from the chaotic waters. The pyramid is the stone embodiment of this “primeval hill.” By being buried within it, the pharaoh symbolically returns to the beginning of the world and gains the power to be reborn.

A staircase to the sky:
The earliest pyramids were “step pyramids” (like Djoser’s), quite literally a giant staircase. Later, the steps were filled in, but the metaphor of a “ladder to heaven” had already become foundational.

This shape is the ultimate union of religion, astronomy, mathematics, and aesthetics. It is simplicity pushed to the extreme—and complexity pushed to the extreme.

III. Standing at the Foot of the Pyramid: Some Reality That Shatters Illusions

It is truly, unreasonably enormous.
The Great Pyramid of Khufu originally stood nearly 150 meters tall and was built from 2.3 million blocks of stone. You may know these numbers, but only when you walk up to its base and look up—watching layer upon layer of stone rise until they vanish into the sky—will the shock of human smallness pierce straight through your spine.

You can touch it, but climbing is strictly forbidden.
The weathered limestone blocks feel rough and warm under your hand; the moment of contact feels like a high-five across 4,500 years. But you must follow the rules—climbing is not only dangerous, it is profoundly disrespectful to the monument.

The atmosphere is complex.
There is the desolate vastness of the desert, the bustle of a tourist site, the smell of camels, and vendors calling out “One dollar!” on repeat. You’ll need a bit of composure to move past these modern distractions and feel the quiet, ancient energy that the ruins themselves carry.

Exploring the interior.
Entering the pyramid’s inner passageways (which require an extra ticket) means squeezing through narrow, hot, slanted corridors. When you finally reach the open “King’s Chamber” and see the massive granite sarcophagus, you’re met with an overwhelming emptiness and stillness. The treasures are long gone—what remains is the eternal embrace of stone.

Epilogue: What Are We Really Seeing When We Look at the Pyramids?

What we see is not a tomb, but the ancient Egyptians’ most powerful and uplifting interpretation of death. To them, death was not an ending—it was a distant journey that required meticulous preparation and heavy-duty “equipment.”

The pyramid is a launchpad, a beacon, a cosmic vessel designed to ensure that the pharaoh—their “interstellar traveler”—could reach the far shore of eternity. It concentrates the wealth, technology, faith, and imagination of a civilization at its peak.

As I left, the setting sun cast the pyramid in a golden glow. I thought: every era’s onlookers draw different strength from it—about the limits of engineering, the purity of belief, and humanity’s innocent yet heroic ambition to defy the erosion of time.

There it stands, silent as a riddle, steady as a mountain. It answers every question about life and eternity—four and a half millennia of silence.