Sun Spirals
Morning Sun,
I am in Uruguay today. It is 6 a.m., and I felt your call. I felt your pull to come witness you as you rise — gentle, soft at this time, powerful and bright later.
I felt your call because lately it’s come to my attention that I carry your codes, that there is a Sun inside of me too. And I see this morning how it’s not only you that rises. I mean… it is your show, but it’s adorned with bird songs and with the soft crushing of the river on the rocky shores. The water creates a sort of distorted mirror where your light and your radiance seem to have a walkway straight to me and my Sun.
I am realising I no longer care what is by design and what is an illusion. What does the world show to me, and what do I project onto it?I am realising it is all very much the same. Maybe not in its source, not in its origin — but in the internalising process, what matters is how I perceive it. The meaning I give to it. The song my heart sings. So where it comes from really becomes a muchness of muchness, when my whole system is adding a melody to the beat of my own drum.
Maybe I needed this message today because returning to my homeland as a stable being has ironically destabilised me. I feel the old echoes of my place in this space trying to walk me back into the box I used to fit in. There is nothing wrong with that box — but it’s not mine anymore, and I don’t want to go back in it. In fact, I don’t want any boxes. Not even the newer, fancier ones with AC because next time I am here, I won’t fit in that one either.
Recently I’ve come to understand growth as a spiral. A spiral to ourselves is a spiral because of the cycles, the orbits — not a circle, because we don’t loop back into the same place. We move forwards, but in circular motion. Spiral motion. To think of growth as linear is to forget a whole dimension of it.
Think of the Sun. It rises and sets every day — the same journey from this little spot by the coast where I’m sitting now, up through the east and down through the west — but if I came to this spot every day for a year, slowly I would see the Sun’s cycle is not the same every day. Its journey is different, walking the days, making the days shorter and longer. And if we change perspective to an outer-space one, we would see both the Sun and the Earth are travelling forwards, and the Earth orbits yes, but the orbit of 2024 was not the same as 2025.
All of this science talk to come back to my point: perspective. Because what we understand as reality will be totally different depending on where we are sat and our awareness of what is happening in places our eyes can’t reach. So reality is not even real. What is real to each of us is the perception of what that experience meant to us — and that is our truth.
Maybe I needed a reminder of that today. That these boxes I fear so much are ones I made for myself. In a home where I’ve struggled to find my place, a home where the word “home” wasn’t the one that came the easiest. So I built myself a box. It’s curious because as someone who left home at an early age, my box was having no box. It was the box of someone uncontained — a seeker, a wanderer. And even if the nature of that box is nomadic, it is still a box.
Maybe this reflection is a reminder that I no longer need the protection of my box. My home is myself. My home is myself, my energy, wherever I go. My home is not an external — it’s not a place, and it’s definitely not a box. My home is in my heart and in my Sun. In the serenity I feel when I go to bed at night knowing I’ve listened to myself. It’s in the spark of joy I feel inside when a friend tells me they are well. And it is in the clarity of path I have when I am alone, in stillness. Moments like this, where the distortion and loudness of the environment take a back seat and I manage to centre myself in myself.
So it doesn’t matter if the Sun actually called me, or if I came out on my own will to talk to it. It doesn’t matter if these words are from the Sun or from my own internal thoughts. Not really. Because in these words, I’ve woven my own spiral: round motion; forward moment — and that is how I perceive it, so that is my truth.
