Being Empty

At the conclusion of a Heart Circle, we have a moment to say something about our experience. I said, "I feel empty."

At the time, it was very hard for me to know what I meant by that. The words seemed so inadequate compared to the experience. In the years since, I have gotten a better grip on the logic, if not the actual experience.

We can go into a room that is completed devoid of furniture, and we can see the space that is in the room. You can measure it, if you like. You can see it, you can walk around and dance and reach to the ceiling.

When the room is crowded with furniture, or even people, it seems like we have no freedom to move around, to dance, to flow freely. There's no space.

Is that true?

Did the space go away? Was it replaced? Or is the space "occupied?"

I would say it is the latter. The space is there whether it is occupied or not. The space is always there. When we remove the furniture, the space is still there.

The metaphysical, emotional, and spiritual potential within our lives is always present. It is the "space" of our lives. I frequently will go out and buy some "furniture" to occupy my space; goals, plans, schedules, history, pain, judgments, identity.

As I place it in my "room," I become accustomed to it and think it is a fixture. I forget about the space that underlies it. I begin to believe that it is more important than the space.

I begin to believe it is permanent.

Emptying the room seems pretty dramatic. Just throw it all out in the hall, in the basement, for the garbage truck. A lofty goal.

What if I just remember the space? What if I remember the immutable forces of this life that do not rely on the furniture to support, or to decorate, to create a "mood?"

What if I can remember the space of love, peace, potential that underlies all the furniture that I have drug into the room?

What if I can dance in the space, regardless of history or identity?

Help me to remember...