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You Are a Donut

A meditation on holes and wholeness

Not metaphorically.

Not spiritually.

Not in some woo-woo "we're all connected" way.

Topologically. Mathematically. Actually.

Here's a fact that will ruin your next breakfast:

You have a hole that runs all the way through you.

Mouth to... the other end. One continuous tube. You are, geometrically speaking, a torus. A donut. A bagel with anxiety and a podcast addiction.

Every human you've ever met? Donut.

Every CEO, every saint, every person who intimidates you? Donut with better marketing.

That person who makes you feel small? Also a donut. Just glazed differently.

We're all donuts pretending to be solid.

Sit with that.

The Hole Is the Point

Here's where it gets interesting.

Most people think they're solid. A ball. A thing. A self-contained unit bumping into other self-contained units.

But you're not a ball. You're a donut.

And the most important part of a donut?

The hole.

Without the hole, it's just a blob. A lump. A sad, identity-less mass of dough.

The hole is what makes a donut a donut.

The emptiness is the identity.

Three Parts of You

Look at a donut. Really look.

The Hole (center)
The Dough (field)
The Glaze (boundary)

Three parts. Always three.

Now look at yourself:

Center. Field. Boundary.

Soul. Mind. Body.

Hole. Dough. Glaze.

Same structure. Different words.

The Forgotten Part

Here's the problem.

We spend our whole lives obsessing over the glaze and the dough.

How do I look? What do I think? Am I successful? Am I smart? Am I enough?

Glaze, glaze, dough, glaze, dough.

And we completely ignore the hole.

The hole doesn't do anything. It doesn't produce. It doesn't achieve. It doesn't post on LinkedIn.

It just... lets things through.

And because we can't monetize emptiness, we pretend it isn't there.

We fill it. We cover it. We distract ourselves from it.

We build an entire civilization on the premise that the hole is a bug, not a feature.

But the hole is what makes you a donut.

Without it, you're just a donut hole.

(Which, ironically, has no hole at all.)

What Passes Through

So what's the hole for?

In a physical donut: nothing. Air. It's just the shape.

In you?

Everything.

Life passes through you. You don't generate it—you receive it and express it.

Truth passes through you. You don't create it—you transmit it (or distort it).

Love passes through you. It comes from somewhere, moves through you, goes somewhere else.

You're not a source. You're a channel.

The hole is what makes you a channel instead of a wall.

A closed aperture is a donut trying to be a ball.

It doesn't work. The hole is still there.

You're just pretending it isn't.

The Ancient Symbol

Here's the wild part.

People have known this forever.

The Circumpunct

A dot inside a circle. The oldest symbol in human history.

The Egyptians used it for the sun, for Ra, for gold, for God.

The alchemists used it for the source of all transformation.

It's still the astronomical symbol for the sun.

What is it?

A center (the dot).

A field (the space between).

A boundary (the circle).

It's a donut. Viewed from above.

The ancients drew the same structure we're finding in topology, in physics, in consciousness studies.

Not because they were mystics.

Because that's the shape of things.

The Fractal Donut

One more thing.

Look at your cells. Each one: a nucleus (center), cytoplasm (field), membrane (boundary). Little donuts.

Look at an atom. Nucleus, electron cloud, orbital boundary. Donut.

Look at the solar system. Sun, space, heliopause. Donut.

Look at a galaxy. Black hole, stars, edge. Donut.

The same pattern, at every scale.

Parts are fractals of their wholes.

You're a donut made of donuts inside a donut.

This is why the mystics say "as above, so below."

This is why the physicists keep finding self-similarity.

This is why you can understand the universe by understanding a donut.

The Practical Bit

Okay. So you're a donut. Now what?

Here's what changes:

Next time you feel empty inside, consider:

Maybe that's not a problem.

Maybe that's just the hole doing its job.

Maybe emptiness is what makes you whole.

The Shape of You

You walked in thinking you were a solid thing.

Bouncing off other solid things.

Trying to be more solid. Denser. More impressive.

But you were never solid.

You were always a donut.

The center that receives. The field that processes. The boundary that meets the world.

And the hole—always the hole—that makes it all possible.

🍩 You are a donut. Act accordingly. 🍩