I’m asked to identify two or three shapes to frame my objective.  I have one.

I am a labyrinth, starting life in the center, wrenched outside at the age of seven.  My life upended by a mystical experience, innocence lost.  Fifty years stumbling back to center.  Searching for meaning.  Afraid.

And then unafraid.  Using a labyrinth to organize words uncovered in forty-day journeys, codified in journals, looking for patterns.  Entering the experience, meditating, demystifying Nothingness.  Writing my story.

So what shape am I in now?  Poetic, prosaic, exploring the labyrinth.  One way in, one way out.  I can’t get lost.