Let us take a mystical problem and apply the great principle of reversal, that is, let us seek the reverse of this problem! The problem: squaring the circle. Its reversal: circling the square.
Take a square, then double it and rotate one over the other by 45 degrees, and you have an octagon. With this the circling of the square is already accomplished, for if you repeat this doubling often enough, you end up with so many angles on the arc that they make up the circle – in a single step you reach the mystical breakthrough.
The circle is the perfect plane figure. Not because every point of its circumference lies at an equal distance from its centre, not because the convex inner edge and the concave outer edge of its circumference form the boundary of a closed world and an open world, inseparable from each other. Though this last feature is worth a meditation – whether the outer and inner worlds exist, and if so, how they exist, what the boundary zone means, what the connection, and what the separation…
No, it is not for these reasons that the circle is the perfect plane figure, but because with the smallest circumference it embraces the greatest area – and this is already mysticism: when the smallest and the greatest meet, that is a secret. What is more, the one – the circumference – is a line, while the other – the area – is an expanse in the plane, that is, here different dimensions meet. When the smallest and the greatest meet, when the two extremes draw near each other, well, that we may call a mystery, as when man and God draw near each other…
One such geometrical mystery is the Möbius strip. It is a well-known shape: we give a strip of paper a half twist along its length, then glue the narrow ends together. A strip of paper naturally has two surfaces: a front and a back. But this half twist produces a strange result: on the twisted paper ring we can draw a line that travels over both sides without lifting the pen. It is not even certain that the Möbius strip has two sides; perhaps it has only one, but then where has the back of the strip gone? How did the two surfaces become one? A warping of space? The strip of paper has become a strange circle dance; in the circle the two extreme values meet, the smallest and the greatest…
When people want to grasp the greatest, they usually take hold of the smallest – that is, they reach amiss. It is a true saying that even on the dunghill one must notice the gold. But it does no harm if bold grasping is joined by some knowledge, luck, blessing; then one does not reach for the worthless and cheap imitation, but succeeds in grasping the real thing.
By virtue of its perfection the circle is the symbol of fullness, of God. The mysticism of the circle is at the same time the mysticism of love, for where the lesser guides the greater, there is love. Small circumference, great area…
This is why the meeting of souls and God, their belonging together, is also symbolised by the circle, and more precisely by the circle dance. Round and round, with no beginning and no end, no telling where it starts or where it finishes – perhaps because this is the dance of infinity? One movement follows another, each step part of the dance, a divine choreography binding the dancers together. One leads, the other follows…
When you step into the centre of the circle, you make a mistake – that place is reserved for God, or for the idea. The idea reigns over the system. If you remove the idea, the system is gone. The system is also order, an order of steps and a rule of order and an order of rule, order and rule. It is knowledge of the law that makes the circle dance beautiful; this is not coercion but the reign of order, of knowledge. Only in knowing the law can one transcend the law. And if the smallest circumference embraces the greatest area, let that be the encouragement that no one is left out of this divine circle dance, and whoever wishes may join.