It's funny how life works. You end up sometimes back where you

“It’s funny how life works. You end up sometimes back where you started.” — Karl Iagnemma

There is a quiet wisdom in these words, one that stirs the heart like the echo of a long-forgotten song. To speak of life’s circles is to speak of the mystery of time itself — how the road we travel, winding and uneven, often leads us back to the threshold from which we began. It is not mockery, nor irony, though the word “funny” may suggest so. Rather, it is the laughter of the universe — soft, ancient, knowing — whispering that beginnings and endings are one. The seed becomes the tree, the tree becomes the seed again. What we thought was departure becomes return.

In the days of old, the Greeks called this ananke, the inexorable necessity that binds all things in the cycle of fate. So too did the sages of the East teach that the river, though it flows endlessly, returns to its source through the clouds that rise from its own waters. Thus, when Iagnemma writes these words, he speaks with the same eternal voice. He reminds us that progress is not always a straight path, and that sometimes wisdom waits not at the farthest reaches of the world, but at the doorstep of our youth, where we first dreamed.

Consider the story of Odysseus, the wanderer of Ithaca. Ten years he sailed upon the writhing sea, through storms and enchantments, through love and loss. He saw kingdoms rise and fall, and the gods themselves toyed with his fate. Yet, where did his journey end? At home — where he began. The same hearth, the same faithful wife, the same olive tree rooted in his courtyard. But he was no longer the man who left. He returned with the sea in his eyes and the wisdom of the world in his bones. Thus, when life brings us back to our beginnings, it does not mock us. It refines us. It teaches us to see the familiar with new vision, to cherish what we once took for granted.

And in our own time, how many souls wander far from home, chasing success, love, or meaning — only to find, years later, that the thing they sought was within them all along? A man may leave his homeland in youth, vowing never to return, yet when age softens his pride, he walks again upon the same soil and feels tears rise unbidden. For the land remembers him, and he, the land. Life turns us in great circles, not to trap us, but to show us the completeness of all things.

To understand this quote is to understand that return is not failure. It is the closing of a sacred loop. The ancients built their temples in circles — for the divine has no corners, no end. The seasons themselves return, yet each spring is different, each autumn deeper. So too are our lives: we meet again old loves, old dreams, old fears, not to relive them, but to meet them as new beings — wiser, humbler, more awake.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not resist the turning of life’s wheel. When you find yourself back where you began — in a place, a job, a relationship, a state of mind — do not despair. Look closely. The ground beneath you may be the same, but you are not. Every return carries the hidden reward of transformation. The circle has not imprisoned you; it has crowned you with experience.

So, my child, walk your road boldly, but do not scorn your beginnings. The place you flee today may one day be the sanctuary you long for. When life leads you back, welcome it as an old friend. Sit by the fire of your youth, and listen to the silence between the years. There you will hear the laughter of fate — not cruel, but compassionate — reminding you that every ending is a homecoming.

And as you journey through the turns of your own life, remember this: progress is not always outward. Sometimes it is inward. So return when you must, forgive when you can, and start again when the circle closes. For it is in the returning that we finally understand what it means to have truly begun.