No matter how inviting a chair—or the luxurious plush mink that clothes it—may be, a chair sitting amidst a vast sea cannot possibly compare to the peace of that space surrounding it.
Think on this: absolutely nothing. Think on how simply marvelous it is to be null, to be void. And to embrace—and embody—the Nothing. Nothing is refreshing, revitalizing. Nothing is naked and unafraid, and therefore, I guess, sexy. Nothing is not convoluted or suffocating. Nothing doesn’t tire.
“If something is disappointing I know it’s not nothing, since nothing is not disappointing.”
Consider meditating on Nothing.
We fill the world with all our different ways of filling up space, with our perfume, with the clatter of our high-heeled footsteps, with our constant chatter. Or perhaps as does hubbo Javi, with lighting up all the candles in the house to cause me paranoia and anxiety (Are the fumes from the burning candles harmful? What if our dog, daughter, or a piece of art were to accidentally topple over one and set our tranquil abode ablaze?).
We occupy space with our possessions, cramming closets, hoarding cupboards, drawers, and shelves, and drowning in our own deluge of messages and photographs. Even our thoughts disperse into the vast space, likely influencing others regardless of their or our awareness. Simply trying to fathom the extent of all our “stuff”—everything within and surrounding everything—is enough to potentially drive us to madness. Unless, that is, we embrace nothingness, transforming ourselves into a vacuum for just a while, once in a while.
To revive our spirits, we have to go back to nothing, every so often. To doing and thinking and feeling nothing. We can lie in bed or on a lounge chair on our terrace. We can simply idle away, distancing ourselves from the chaos of our lives, from life itself, from all lives past and future. We can gift ourselves a precious slice of nothingness amid thick sticky smothering commotion.
“The moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it
Was the moment I touched down
How ’bout remembering your divinity?
How ’bout not equating death with stopping?
Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you, thank you silence”
—Alanis Morisette, Thank You
We can smile at “disillusionment” (Thank you for your brilliant words, Alanis), as it gives us room. It gives us approachability. We can smile at our broken heart, as it gives us openness and hope. We can eat alone (a favorite of mine) or just lie in bed without our phone in our hand, and just BE and FEEL NOTHING for a still moment. And if we really must fill the space with our gibberish, why not speak wonders and volumes of absolutely NOTHING.
Here goes nothing. It’s nothing what you imagine. I mean, really nothing other than nothing at all. Well, it’s really not nothing at all. You know, nothing good comes easy, but then again Nothing comes pretty easy. And it’s good. Cuz, let’s be honest, no thing lasts forever, but Nothing does. There’s nothing quite like Nothing. When I’m in nothingness, nothing phases me. And nothing really matters after all, well except for Nothing itself. It’s nothing personal, just make Nothing personal.
Friends, Oh Friends. It doesn’t take anything to be Nothing. Just for a moment. And to be full with emptiness.