There’s a void, and I’m tempted to fill it.
Gaps in time, in relationships, in a sense of direction.
The moments of quiet can be the hardest, when the lizard-brain starts screaming, starts computing, attempting to problem solve, create solutions. When my little brain-child, fear, is at it’s loudest.
Crying for definition. For structure. For stability. For constancy…
but the blank slate is what I chose.
That reminds me of a story.
The ancient Hebrew’s creation story begins with a chaotic void, shapeless. And the spirit hovers over the waters. It’s as though God is a painter, staring at a blank canvas. Or a potter, with a messy heap of clay in front of her. Yet to be wedged, shaped. These artists have anticipation, delight, and an embracing of what is yet-to-be. I have that same heart, and that heart is what has led me hear. And I know that same spirit of God, who sees my circumstances as a similar canvas. The void is just the first step of creation. Without the void, without silence, nothing meaningful is created. Just regurgitation. Just chatter. But with the void, innumerable possibilities can become slowly shaped into a meaningful reality. It’s a process, and it always seems slower than I want it to, but I’m committed to it.
Void, I see you. I’ll embrace both yin and yang of this deal. Brain, fear and doubt, I hear you. I acknowledge what I feel, no need to run or bury it. Ultimately, though, I have confidence that there is clarity beyond oblivion.
In the meantime, the void will be space to learn. Space to grow. Space to discover things I did not know. Space to feel. Space to breathe. Space.
A formless cosmos, with the spirit hovering in it’s midst.