The Independence of Emptiness

An independent kind of loneliness is liberating. I faintly remember brief phases of my life where I experienced such liberation. I think that’s called being alone without being empty. Growing up, I mostly felt sufficient and happy just by myself. I may have had an unidentified need for validation and appreciation when I was young. But my self-worth was what I thought of myself and not what others thought of me. The attention I received for doing well in school or for being friendly and fun, felt nice but was never required. Or maybe I did require it to be happy; I just didn’t realize that I needed it because I was surrounded by it, surrounded by friends, surrounded by admirers, surrounded by the noise of life and its wonders at the time.

Until I faced my first big emotional storm that taught me what destruction felt like, I didn’t experience emptiness and its deafening silence amidst the noisy chaos. I used to find tragic sadness beautiful and inspirational and although I was attracted to it for as long as I can remember, before the first storm I didn’t understand the despair that suffocates the beauty of sadness.

Despair gets powerfully painful when dormant. A key root of pain is expectation. Freedom from expectation is liberation. However, the process of withdrawing expectations from oneself as well as from others is a tough one. As expectations die, pain gets stripped and sadness that stays behind evolves into a lonely emptiness. I wish I knew how and when to strip the emptiness, so I could reach my fantasy of liberated loneliness.

Emptiness is so monstrous and it penetrates even the strongest of feelings. It can coexist with anything and, in my experiences, it’s the last one standing. It is quiet and unrooted. It’s unassuming, passive and perfectly deceptive. It always appears as the unsuspected victim of sadness and loss. And even when it engulfs everything, it doesn’t celebrate its victory over you. Instead, it caresses your weary soul and cries in dismay with you, never having you question its loyalty. Its lack of aggression in a sea of stinging negativity is comforting. But emptiness can be one of the most sinister emotions. People, places, events can fight sadness, anger, pain, and even replace and fill loneliness. But emptiness can’t be fought. It’s a void, there is nothing to fight or strip; only to surrender.

The tug of war between emptiness and purpose is timeless. Before we exist, there is a void. After we die, there is a void. It’s mostly just emptiness. It’s vast. It does make sense that this feeling is so monstrous and all-encompassing. I could blame other people and events in my life for this vast emptiness. But the truth is that it was always in me. Despite my attempts to not surrender to this unassuming monster, I define myself with it. It has been a constant companion. The events which pushed me into emptiness, if undone, won’t give me purpose. Similarly, if the people who are catalysts to my close encounters with painful voids were to return, I won’t find my old joys. The one-way transactions with emptiness are stark reminders of surrender being the only option.

I can get comfortable with this loneliness by liberating myself. Liberation can come in many ways. It can end me in so many ways. I don’t have to accept; I just need to surrender. Isn’t it counterintuitive to think this surrender may break me free? Independence from life itself is probably the most cherished gift one can give to the void that existed before it all started and after it all ends. The lure of this emptiness is as deceptive as ever.