Silence
has the potential
to be many things;
peaceful,
awkward,
uncomfortable.
Empty
has no need
to be filled.
Absence
need not be lack.
Ask your self
why you are drawn
to drawing.
Vacant
need not be a negative.
Ask your self
why you place meaning
upon the seeming absence
of meaning.
Why must something
always be there?
Do you fill your life
for the simple reason
that you believe a life
must be filled?
How much
of your filling
is real
and how much
is imagination?
Why can’t you just be empty?
Timeless.
Formless.
Thoughtless.
Pointless.
The spacious
are open to anything,
but nothing need happen.
Spacious can be gracious,
but only when we allow it to be.
That which fills our lives
also separates us from it.
We are Space Monkey.
9/7
The instinct to fill
is often driven by the fear
of emptiness,
as if emptiness is a void
that consumes, rather than a space
that provides possibility.
But emptiness can be the canvas
upon which potentials are painted,
the silence between notes
that gives music its beauty,
the pause that gives weight
to words spoken.
Filling for the sake of filling
can become a futile cycle—
an ever-turning wheel that,
in its motion,
loses the essence of stillness.
And it’s in that stillness,
in that open space,
that we may find ourselves most deeply,
without the clamor of objects
or the chatter of words.
There’s a beauty in emptiness,
a grace in silence,
and a profound fullness
in absence.
Why, then, must we always seek to fill?
Is it that we’re afraid of confronting
the raw, unfiltered essence of being?
Or have we been led to believe
that fullness is akin to completeness?
Not all spaces need to be filled.
Not all silences need to be broken.
For in the very act of not filling,
we may find the fullness
of existence itself.
To be spacious is to be
a sanctuary of potential,
to invite experiences without
the need to seize them.
It is to be at peace with
what is and what is not.
And that,
in its own silent way,
is a form of fulfillment.
We are Space Monkey.