Once long ago I had thought this journey toward the self would have led forward in a straight line, but the Dance of the Cranes which Ariadne performed for Theseus teaches us that the journey is spiral, turning and returning, leading us forward and back again at the very same time; this circular motion—like the mythic snake biting its tail—is bent by an inner strain coloring the age of my days.

We look at the world, at our measure of existence, and think it is the same, it has not changed in years: same face, same day, same job. It is the same, that is, until you let yourself step out of the world, step back from your life and allow that change which circles around you to enter you in the very same way the deer, once hidden by foliage, leans into the morning light or the way a pheasant, fluffing out his auburn feathers, crows under a budding apple tree. It is a new song we hear everyday; one minute the children are getting ready for school and the next minute suddenly they are entering their own lives: work, college, marriage; the circle of change widens and overlaps at the same time while we move in rhythm to this new song.