Whatever we might be doing and wherever we might be going, we were moving toward one goal - to one's inner self, to remembering oneself. People who have lost the memory of their past and their future are akin to children who are ready, day after day, without ever tiring of it, to ride on their favorite carousel. Something always changes around us - one day the sun is out, the next it rains, the leaves appear on the trees and then fall off, first one set of people come along to see how these carefree folks who behave like children whirl on the carousel, and then others come to watch. We turn around a closed circle, squealing with delight at the speed, forgetting that at some point we were truly able to fly and that our exaggerated excitement is nothing but a vague memory of who we once were.
