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  • Writer's picturedavidauten


There is an emptiness beyond the melancholic’s, a form of apathy distinct from the malaise of a life overrun with monotony. This emptiness is inherent to the human condition, a void not meant to be filled but revered. Emptiness within can be a secret source of tremendous fear, an anxiety that haunts you with the notion of a life devoid of meaning and purpose, like a specter barely there, just an inkling, yet an inkling heavy with doubt in the beauty and brilliance of the panorama of existence. Usually, the inclination is to ignore, deny, or decry this emptiness. As you slowly realize the emptiness has nowhere to go, however, not foreign but native to your being, and thus refusing your most ardent denouncements, you may catch a glimpse of a truly radical choice other than your varied attempts at evasion, namely, befriending the emptiness, beginning with little more than a childlike curiosity willing to explore it. Then, ever so slowly through a process of integration, surprisingly, the emptiness begins to work a little more with rather than against you, allowing vital movement beyond the binary, and characterized by all manner of visions. You might see, for example, you are the problem, and the solution. Deeply good, and, far from good. Connected and utterly alone. Love and hate. Blessing and bane. Nothing and everything. Seeing this, you are not so quick to judge others, or yourself. As the black and white fades to a true and glorious gray, the emptiness inside no longer seems so strange and threatening but more like room to breathe. A newfound inner spaciousness. The event horizon to something more. The dark irony of those forlorn by deep despair and real depression is how close they are to this other emptiness and the gift of its freedom.

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