Hunab'Ku’s Mirror: The Leo Sun and the Timeless Flame.

There comes a day when time unfastens its grip. When the calendar forgets itself.

When the Earth breathes between stories. July 25th 2025, The Day Out of Time.

In the wisdom of The Maya, this day is not marked by duty or number. It is not part of any month. It does not belong to the old year, nor to the new. It stands alone, like a stone in the river, unmoved as the waters rush past.

On July 24th, the Thirteenth Moon of the Sacred Calendar came to its close. On July 26th, a new cycle will rise. But today... today is the pause. The still-point. The offering. A day carved from the silence between worlds, deep within us, as the heart of space itself.

The Maya honored this time with devotion. Not with clocks or progress, but with creation.

Art. Music. Ceremony. The kind that does not ask to be understood, only felt. For this is the day of Hunab'Ku, the Central Sun of the Galaxy, the Great Unifier, the Silent Intelligence behind All form.

Hunab'Ku does not shout. It pulses. It listens. It holds. It regenerates.

The Hunab'Ku, Galactic Central Sun glows with sacred light, marking the Mayan Day Out of Time, a moment beyond the mortal realm where the universe whispers forgotten tales.

And in the mirror of the sky, the Sun now travels through Leo, its regal place of origin, its throne. Here, the solar fire burns clean and clear, lit by purpose, not performance. The New Moon arrived just yesterday, cloaking the Sun in quiet beginnings. And Mercury, retracing its steps, stirs memory and meaning beneath it all.

But across from this light, something deeper moves.

Pluto, keeper of thresholds and transformation, stands in Aquarius, watching. The two oppose each other like ancient figures on either side of a gate. One holds fire. The other holds depth. Their tension is a forge, about to burst with death and rebirth. Souls will transcend and ascend.

So this day out of time becomes more than a pause.

It becomes a crucible. A passageway. A chance to let something die that no longer belongs to you, and to glimpse what may yet be born.

No one can tell you what this day should hold.

But if you listen, not with your ears, but with your bones, you may hear something older than language moving through.

A story returning. A light remembered.

A moment, outside of time, when the universe quietly turns its face toward you... And waits.

So how might you honor this day? Gently, without striving. Perhaps by pouring color into a page, drawing symbols or sigils to speak what cannot be said. Or by dancing barefoot as if to some ancestral rhythm. Or sitting in quiet reverence, allowing Hunab'Ku’s silent unity to move through you. This is not a time for tasks but for being. To cradle possibility and remembrance, to celebrate existence as art.

What might be waiting to arise, if time itself is held softly aside? What image, reflection, or fragment of knowing longs to come forward when we remove the boundaries of days?

Here, we are invited, held in a timeless hour, where creation flows as if by its own heartbeat.

Much love to all, Valentina.