There is an emptiness that can only be filled by emptying. We move through our days, busy, productive, with never quite enough time to write. We want to believe that somewhere in the future we will finally have completed the ghost tasks and responsibilities that haunt us. Then we will write. Weeks go by. Months. Years. There is always another ghost hovering, another report to finish, child to see safely off to college, grandchild to raise, promotion to move toward…
We hustle through our too short days and nights taking care of business. Maybe we reach the end of each day briefly satisfied. But more likely we live most of our time with something missing. We are lonely in the middle of a seemingly full life. We might try to fill that emptiness with food, with romance, with booze, with drugs, with endless hours on Facebook – and so often, with busyness itself. There are moments when we feel satiated, more when we feel a longing for more of what isn’t filling us.
I know my emptiness. I suspect it will be with me till I die. It took years for me to understand that the aching void I tried to fill – and thus banish – is my most faithful lover. I re-learn that knowledge every day. My true work calls to me from the emptiness. Only by entering it can I find temporary peace. So, this morning, I wrote: Lonely for Your True Work…For these few minutes as I finish writing this message, I feel full.
Are you lonely for writing? Is your writing lonely for you? Please write us what you learn when you simply be with the emptiness.
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