The Circle of the Sun
There’s a heat beneath your longing.
It’s a remembering—
a pull toward something whole,
something ancient.
We want to return to the center.
To the source.
To the place inside us that knows—not with thought,
but with presence.
With the kind of knowing that burns clean through illusion.
The mind is a tool—
a necessary one,
designed to help us adapt, analyze, and survive in the world.
But it can only reflect.
It grasps at meaning from the outside in.
The heart, on the other hand, reveals.
It doesn’t just feel.
It knows—not by deduction, but by direct communion.
The heart is intuition.
And intuition is divine,
because it represents our direct participation in the universe.
The heart is the spiritual sun.
The radiant center.
The place of revelation.
The vital core of being,
where the deepest truth is not taught, but shown.
It is a visible manifestation of the sacred—
not metaphor, but a living symbol.
And yet, we’ve been taught to live far from this center.
To favor intellect over insight.
To live in past and future at the expense of the present.
To override the signals of the body.
To doubt the voice of the soul in favor of certainty and control.
But eventually, something cracks.
The ache becomes undeniable.
And we begin to want the sun again.
We want to burn through the fog of doubt and conditioning.
We want to live not as fragments,
but as radiant presence.
We want a life that feels like us.
This is the call back to the circle of the sun.
When we listen—
not with the ears,
but with the skin,
the bones,
the blood—
we begin to hear it again.
The sound of something holy,
pounding beneath the noise.
The truth of who we’ve always been.
Not everyone will understand this path.
It doesn’t always look practical.
It doesn’t always make sense.
But it is true.
And truth has its own gravity.
If you’re longing for something you can’t quite name—
if the mind’s maze has left you tired and still not home—
then come closer to the fire.
Come back to the heart.
Come stand in the circle of the sun.