In middle age I have come to realize that I cannot be what I say, only what I do. I will never be the author of my thoughts, though I can enact them. We are never self-possessed. At the heart of the labyrinth is the embodied, selfless, Spirit, seemingly trapped in the web of time. The illusion, the torment comes from the belief that there is a Minotaur apart from the labyrinth: the belief that there is some dark self that can be freed from time. But I can not be freed becasue I am not captive. The labyrinth is the Minotaur. No more or less.