When I was nine, I saved up every penny to fulfill my yearning for an electric train. Finally, I ran to the hobby store. Arriving home, I set up the circular track. My little engine, pulling two coaches and a caboose, circled endlessly, repeatedly passing the same wooden station and plastic trees I set up beside my track.
I dreamed of laying out one long straight run so that my train could explore new landscapes. But one long track would quickly take the train out of my sight. Neither straight line nor circle was ideal.
What a metaphor for life! Making each year merely a dreary replica of last year is as dissatisfying as constantly seeking the new and novel.