Become The Sun Itself

I was reading reflections on Rumi last night and then stepped out to watch one of the most magnificent sunsets I’ve seen in a long time, and something settled deeply into me.

A true seeker must learn not to cling too tightly to temporary joys and delights. Not because they are bad — they are beautiful. Sacred, even. But they are the rays and reflections of the sun, not the sun itself.

The rays dance across oceans, mountains, windows, and skin. They illuminate homes and create masterpieces across the sky. They make us stop in awe. But when the sun sets, those particular reflections disappear.

And yet the sun remains.

That realization moved through me while I watched the sky changing colors. Every evening, the sun creates something entirely different — new reflections, new radiance, new beauty. Never the same twice. Like mist. Like wind. Like seasons. Like emotion. Like so much of life.

The reflections evolve.

But the source remains eternal.

I think so much of our suffering comes from attaching ourselves only to the reflections — the fleeting moments, the forms, the temporary manifestations of beauty — and forgetting the deeper light they came from in the first place.

What if the work is not simply to chase the rays…

…but to become the sun itself?

To cultivate something within ourselves so steady, so rooted, so eternal, that even when we cannot see it clearly for a moment, we trust it still exists.

Because it does.

The sun does not cease to exist when it leaves your sight.
It is simply illuminating somewhere else.

There is something comforting in that.

To become the sun is to carry that inner light within yourself so fully that your presence naturally spills warmth onto others. Your joy becomes contagious. Your radiance becomes generous. Your reflections become offerings instead of grasping.

And maybe that is the difference between chasing light…

and embodying it.

Ashe,

Your Wahine of the Sun