“We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds whatever we want.” – Lao Tzu
Do you feel it? That emptiness just beyond the edge of your awareness. The silent question behind everything: “Why am I here?”, “What am I supposed to do with my life?”, and “What does this all mean?”
We tend to do everything we can to avoid this emptiness, so we try to fill it with titles, possessions, relationships, and distractions. Somehow, though, no matter how much we add to our lives, it never feels like enough. We are always left wanting more and grieving what has slipped away. There’s always the ever-elusive thing that will finally make us complete: the job, the partner, the revelation. It starts with a slow creep, builds into a frenzied pace, and becomes something that is no longer in harmony with the world around us. When avoidance no longer works, something more forceful takes its place: resistance.
We begin to push back…
When we don’t allow ourselves to feel and become aware of this emptiness, we tend to act in opposition to it. When we don’t accept this as a source of creation, we rail against it. We swing wildly in the other direction with a futile attempt to fill it with things that paradoxically deepen the ache we feel: stuff, tasks, and meaning-making. We attach our worth to getting things done, making a difference, and being useful. All of this striving exacts a heavy toll on us and the world around us.
In an effort not to feel emptiness, we attempt to control the world around us. We shape it in our image. We cut it down, pave it over, and fill it up with monuments of excess. We create cities, communities, and companies that mirror this disharmony. We no longer live in relation with the world. In all this striving, we exhaust ourselves and the world around us
What if the problem isn’t the emptiness itself, but our refusal to be in relationship with it? We begin to see that the emptiness is the point. It is the source and the starting point of all creation: Nothing new is ever created without first beginning from nothing at all. The emptiness is our permission. The emptiness is our invitation. It was there before we were born and will be there after we are gone. We too are an act of creation, and as an act of creation, we carry that forward in our lives. The secret is that we can’t create something new without starting from nothing. Starting from nothing feels like a scary place. Where do I even begin? Is it the “right” thing to do? Will it even amount to anything?
The key difference between harmony and disharmony is intention and consciousness. Disharmony is an unconscious and unintentional response while harmony is conscious and intentional. One seems to be default while the other requires a choice. One is riding in the backseat while the other is choosing the road. When you choose to be in the driver’s seat, you are gifted infinite possibilities of destruction and creation, each capable of becoming a sacred act when done in harmony.
When we begin to live in relationship with emptiness, one of the first choices we face is whether to create or to destroy. There are many moments in life when destruction is necessary before something new can take shape. Letting go of old beliefs is an act of destruction. It clears space for something else to emerge. The same is true for systems and institutions built on denial. Sometimes they, too, must be dismantled to make room for something grounded in harmony. Destruction is a scary place to stand. It means threatening what people have grown used to even if it’s not serving them. Often, it’s an “uncomfortable comfortable,” something that doesn’t feel quite right but is easier to tolerate than to confront. Maybe we sense the cracks. Maybe we know it doesn’t work. But others seem fine with it. So we don’t speak up. We don’t disrupt. We let it continue. Once we’ve dismantled, unwound, or let go, we are left with space, and from that space, we can choose creation.
Religion aside, something came from nothing. Even our own birth began in mystery, emerging from silence and into the unknown. Creation is a sacred act: the coming together of elements that, in combination, form something entirely new. From this perspective, emptiness becomes fertile ground. A place to plant our hopes and dreams.
It offers us a place to stand. A place to say, “This matters. This is what I’m here for.” From here, we bring forth works of beauty, of purpose, of reverence. Acts that lift up, inspire, and honor what is possible in this life. Creation is where the muse lives, whispering ideas to those who would listen. Working quietly behind the scenes. Stirring magic within those willing to bring something into the world that did not exist before.
When we accept emptiness as the basis of everything, the world opens and is full of possibility. It becomes a place of permission rather than pressure. There is no obligation here, but there is responsibility: to live in relationship with the world, to move with intention and reciprocity, and to break and create in balance.
Harmony does not mean stillness. It does not mean we never destroy, never disrupt, never act. It means we do so with awareness. With care. To embrace emptiness is to step into a different kind of power. One rooted not in control, but in stewardship.
It is an invitation.
