The Flower Tree and The Void
Day #1 of Experiments in White on Black
The Void
I was thinking this morning about the void — how it’s gotten such a bad reputation. Yesterday, when I started day #8, I realized I’d run out of ideas. I didn’t know what to draw next. I hadn’t a clue of what to do, only I’d committed to doing something.
It’s so much nicer to start with some idea or an inkling (ha!) of what you might do or try. I had a strong temptation to give up. Talk myself out of this 30-day plan of mine. Make an excuse.
I love the momentum of a clear direction. I don’t like not knowing I am terrified of the feelings that come with not knowing what to do. It feels like helplessness. It feels like vulnerability without a ready-made defense. Really not knowing, and knowing you don’t know, and knowing there’s nothing you can do to figure it out and gain some measure of control. It’s not a place I go to willingly, and if I find myself in the void, I try to escape it as quickly as possible.
But the moments when I am in that state of really not knowing what comes next, what to do, what to think, what direction to take, what to try, or even avoid (ha!) — A-void. What you do when you can’t stay in the void.
Voids open up in every moment of transition. More voids open, the quieter you get.
And I thought, the void, though anxiety-producing for those of us who’d really rather prefer to have a lot of control, especially the control of knowing what to think about whatever is happening at the moment, the void is also the place where you find something you didn’t know you were looking for. It’s the place where something unexpected arrives and it takes time to recognize what it is. When I don’t know what to do, I am forced to do something I’ve never tried. Or I’ve tried it, and now I have to do something more. The void is the place where you break your own boundaries and see how much larger the world is.
