Empty
1
When I walked through the street yesterday, the street was empty. It was three at the morning; no sound was audible. It was cold as most of the world still slept and the only noise I heard was the footstep I took. The street was empty, and so was my feeling. There are different kinds of emptiness; they came at different times.
2
The feeling of losing purpose: this is the first emptiness. With neither direction nor hope, one loses one's direction. Simply functioning, one tries to get and stay busy. But busyness in itself seldom fulfills: it is rather a distraction. When one seeks distraction, something felt missing and empty.
3
Peace in the heart and mind: this is also an emptiness. The free one carries no burden, and it acts as the calm surface of the water. When a rock falls into it, it vibrates, but no more than required. As soon as the disturbance caused by the rock vanish, the vibration disappears, the surface is back to its starting condition; it returns to stillness. The heart that feels no tension is a blessing: it gives and takes, but it attaches to nothing. The purest heart is always grateful.
4
When undertaking a task, let us forget ourselves and be one with the act: no one is left there to be found. Let there be no self to measure its desire. Cleaning a dirty house seems a vain task: when you finally clean it, the dust comes again. When you finally put things in order, someone takes the order away. I pray so when I work, I want to forget about myself. Let me clean the dust again; let me put the things in order. Let me—-at the very least—-enjoy the short moment where the house is clean and in order. Like most things in life, it last only so long until it is gone. One day I will be gone too.
5
I imagine that the universe that I see with my eyes is made out of glass. The scene that I see every day: the road I took, the desk to work on, the bed to sleep on; I imagine when the mirror finally breaks, all these images of the road, the desk, and the bed shatters into pieces. What would I find behind the shattered glass? I imagine an emptiness. There is nothing behind it; it is void. This is the same with my pride, my achievement, my possessions: when the glass breaks, I should find nothing behind it. We attach values to the emptiness and wish that it stays in eternity. Nothing last forever if it is transitory.
6
Death is a measure to which everything becomes a void. The noisy debates on the streets and the explosiveness of wars: when death takes life, no ideologies could salvage a soul. When death comes, no material possessions can bribe it, in the hope of gaining even another additional second to life. Death comes when it finally comes. After that, everything that we attach to ourselves becomes a void. Name and famous might endure so long, but in the end, people forget. Monuments and legacies: them time will consume.
7
Are we living in a mirror world? What we see is a projection of our inner universe. The tragedy in this world is a reflection of our desire; the hardness in life is a story we prepare for the triumphant of the self. We converse with ourselves all the time. We create strangers, foes, friends, and lovers. Would it be scary when we finally awake to the reality: that all the time we create our own universe, make ourselves forget about this, and instead immersing in a character that we create? I see myself in the eyes of strangers; I am no different.
8
To love is to become empty. Your loved one might not understand you; you might find your parents being hard on you; your children are not obedience, and all your friends left you. But if there is no self to be hurt, all of these play no role. I will love them.