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.