Why do we insist on moving forward when the universe moves in cycles?

Fields are cultivated in straight lines. Human beings, too, tend to draw their lives in straight lines. From an early age, we are taught that there is a starting point and a finishing point, a distant goal we must reach. We grow up convinced that life is a continuous journey forward, a road that never looks back.

Barely have we learned to walk or speak when the straight line is already presented to us as the way forward. We are told where we should go, what we should become and what we should achieve. And, like horses following only the direction laid out before them, we keep moving forward, often without questioning whether the destination we pursue is truly our own or merely an inheritance of society's expectations.

Like the old story of the carrot dangling in front of an animal, we endure hardships, make sacrifices and overcome obstacles in the hope of reaching the promised happiness one day. We study to earn a degree, work to achieve stability, and struggle to acquire possessions, recognition or success. We believe that once we reach the finish line, we will finally find fulfilment.

But when the goal is achieved, the joy lasts only a few moments. Soon, a new desire emerges, a new ambition, a new need. And we start running again. Perhaps the only cycle we truly know is precisely this one: the cycle of fleeting satisfaction and constant dissatisfaction.

Yet, by living our lives in straight lines, we leave far too many things behind. We do not return to our old wounds. We do not revisit the pain that remains unhealed. We want to move forward at all costs, whether complete or incomplete, whole or fragmented.

But the universe seems to teach us a different lesson.

Nothing in nature moves exclusively in a straight line. The seasons return. Day gives way to night, and night gives way to day once more. The tides advance and retreat. The planets revolve. Life itself is born, transforms and renews itself through endless cycles.

It was through countless repetitions that chaos gave way to order. Through cyclical movements, the universe found its balance. Creation did not emerge from a frantic race forward, but from the patient repetition of the same processes until harmony took shape.

Perhaps this is one of the great lessons we have forgotten.

Perhaps we should stop fearing the act of returning. Walking the same paths again does not mean failure. Revisiting the same mistakes does not mean stagnation. Sometimes, we return precisely to understand what we were unable to comprehend the first time.

Because every evolution has roots. Every transformation rests upon an earlier foundation. And nothing truly grows without revisiting what sustains it.

Perhaps life is neither a straight line nor a perfect circle.

Perhaps it is a spiral.

A movement that brings us back to the same places, but never in quite the same way. We return to the same questions, the same dreams, the same pain, but each time with greater experience, deeper awareness and more humanity.

And perhaps it is in this balance between moving forward and returning that the true meaning of existence lies. Not in constantly running away towards the future, but in learning to transform each cycle into an opportunity for growth.

Because, deep down, living is not simply about reaching a destination. It is also about knowing how to return.