On Emptiness

There are times when no amount of entertainment, messages, or events can fill the void each one of us experiences at one point or another. There are times when no distraction can pull us further from ourselves. Infinite scrolling and endless texts only exacerbate our neurotic state. The messages of busyness, improvement, and connection bombarding us every minute from our devices dig a deeper hole of loneliness and apathy within us.

We watch a TV show to temporarily escape the boredom of routine and immerse ourselves in an eventful world. But at the same time, we run away from it, checking our phones and sinking into oblivion while the show is still on.

Where are you now? Reading these lines and trying to make sense of its content, or are you thinking of something unrelated, like what you’re going to do next? Or eat next? Or maybe you just find yourself reaching for your phone or opening a new tab, without realizing it?

There comes a moment when the flow of information pauses. An episode is over, a feed has been reviewed twice and you are at the “You’re all caught up” line. Now what do you do? Escape the emptiness thanks to the auto-play feature of a streaming service or the auto-scroll feature of your conditioned fingers? Or will you dare to stop and face the void?

Emptiness is intimidating. Silence and darkness are fertile grounds for fear and anxiety to grow. Silence reveals your voice, darkness highlights your identity. Your lack of purpose and the futility of your hopes are all the more blatant.

In emptiness, there is no consolation and much less fun. There is you, the unhewn, the unkempt, the uncared for; as you, who is afraid of the darkness and flies into the light like a moth to the flame, are at risk of being burnt out.

What are you going to do? Run further from silence into noise or confront an encompassing feeling of numbness?

How about turning me off? I’m annoying, no doubt about that. It’s totally expectable that you’ll find me confusing and favor another piece of text or video over this one. But as much as I’m annoying and as much as your favorite writer or blogger is a charmer, don’t let us do the heavy lifting and fill your emptiness for you. Why not try, for a change, to do the uncomfortable thing? Turn me off, turn your device off (all of your numerous devices, I should say), and just be alone for an hour or two.

Confronting silence is agonizing. It reveals a void that absorbs any joyful moments of your being. Worst of all, silence, as if denying itself, raises questions that, although left unanswered, emit a lot of noise. Who are you? Why are you doing what you’re doing? Where are you heading and what purpose are you serving? It’s too much to bear for our overfed, media-engorged minds. We are switching off. Or, rather, we are switching on: the screens, the alluring land of possibilities made of millions of colorful pixels.

But then what? Instead of facing the questions that emptiness raises, we help ourselves with another, and another, and another bountiful serving of distraction. Netflix, Spotify, Instagram, and hundreds of other entertainment providers are there waiting for us. Tirelessly. They are what we treat as an antidote to boredom.

Meanwhile, boredom is best treated by accepting it. When we deliberately experience boredom, down to its smallest nuances, to the depths where time ceases to exist and the body loses its form, we’re able to break free from its depressing spell.

In this emptiness, if you’re focused enough, you’ll discover that it’s not nothing. Emptiness is never truly empty. Life pulses through it: shimmering lights in your closed eyes, tweaking sensations at your fingertips, urges of your hidden desires surfacing in your psyche, trepidations of your unspoken hopes in your consciousness.

When you listen to yourself, you fill the void. When you don’t run away from the emptiness, when you don’t fill it with whatever dopamine you put your hands on, it becomes tolerable and sometimes even revelatory.

Achieving inner peace doesn’t require sitting in the lotus position and trying not to think while thinking; it doesn’t require going on a tedious search for meaning; it’s not essential to be in a certain place and to be alone.

Surrender is the key. Accept the truth that the feeling of emptiness will come once in a while. That the sense of futility, meaninglessness, and grief for a life you don’t live the way you want will show up unannounced to block out any hope.

But it’s important to remember that this feeling is only temporary. Life doesn’t tolerate a void, and in a minute, an hour, or a day, you’ll find yourself back in the whirlwind of earthly things with a smile on your face — messages from friends, new episodes of a show, delicious meals. You can use these events to alleviate your numbness and enrich your mundanity.

As long as you’re honest with yourself, as long as you answer the question, “What am I doing right now and why?” you fill your existence with meaning.

Then, even when you turn on Netflix or check your phone, you don’t lose yourself. You know when you avoid life and need outlets for your frustration and you know when to accept life’s hardships and when you’re ready to grow.

You might find that a bit of emptiness actually makes your life fuller.

And now, why not turn off your devices and think about what you’re doing next and why?