I saw myself looking down at a maelstrom. I knew if I got closer I would not escape the spiraling pull towards its center. I saw an orb while at a Mount Eerie concert, like a ghost in a photograph. Something about the experience felt whole and I could remember what it was like to be present if only for a moment. The circle felt warm and glowing; familiar.

Plato speaks of circles in his theory of forms, in which he describes four modes of understanding, which together may approximate the fifth, most realistic mode. First, there is the word “circle” itself, written here, second, as its definition: a shape by which every point on a plane is equal distance from a centre point. Third, is the image of the thing, a drawing, a picture of the moon, a potter’s wheel. etc. Fourth is the knowledge itself, which he describes as being “...found not in sounds nor in shapes of bodies, but in minds (1), whereby it evidently differs in its nature from the real circle and from the aforementioned three.” Fifth is the object itself as it exists in true reality. Through application of the first four methods, he says “understanding approaches nearest in affinity and likeness to the fifth entity...” I watched my art teacher draw a circle. I remember the sound of the pencil in a constant motion around an imagined center. I watched him erase the deviations and reveal something close to perfection. 

My cat Finn was dying and I listened to Finn the human sing: “Everything is falling into place, I’m right where I belong.”

I saw myself stuck in an endless loop, as if the circumstances of my birth had set me on a path with certain rules and constants.

Pi is a mathematical constant and the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter. However, perfect circles do not exist in nature. The sun’s disc, planetary bodies and ripples all have deviations, like a circle drawn without compass or straightedge. The perfect circle is a concept that allows for a closer understanding of existing forms. The word “close” implies both deep understanding and connection as well as a degree of separation. Through proximity we can sense and study while accepting a level of uncertainty. Even within ourselves there are slivers of mystery. 

Music as an art form feels born out of mystery. I think of the film Stalker by Andrei Tarkovsky in which the Stalker states that “Music for instance, less than anything else, is connected to reality, or if connected at all, it’s done mechanically, not by way of ideas, just by a sheer sound, devoid of... any associations. And yet, music, as if by some miracle, gets through to our heart.” There is no formula here, but a swirling resonance that exists outside of definition. Something about this feels related to that fifth thing Plato describes. The thing that may never be certain but is deeply known, like the soul.

I draw a circle and I leave the imperfections visible. I hold the pencil steady and move my arm around and around. Each motion draws nearer to something familiar. The imperfections that remain trace a kind of pathway, like footprints. I close my eyes and see this circle and I know this is the one that’s true. It is all the ones I’ve seen and drawn, read about and heard in song.

1) In an alternate translation the word “soul” is used in place of “minds,” further exemplifying the mutable nature of language.