Updated: Feb 9
During a very difficult period in my life, at the moment when I felt like a brick that fell down very hard and did not reach the bottom because the hole was too deep, philosopher Hans Idink asked me if I was not busy with the philosophy of the void.
The emptiness has a different meaning for each of us. For me, the void was a deep black hole where there was nothing at all. Literally nothing, just dark. There was no hope, no despair, no laughter, no crying. The emptiness was just nothing at all to me.
As someone who has always lived in the light, consciously playing with the dark sides of life, my emptiness was suddenly a great challenge. I felt blind, I did not know where to go and there was not a single star to show me the way.
I felt like a brick falling down very hard and trying to break my fall made me constantly move my arms and legs in the air. This caused a lot of physical pain as all my muscles got stiff.
After Hans asked his question, I started thinking about it. Am I consciously concerned with my emptiness? Or am I unconsciously letting everything pass by? Is my emptiness really that dark or can I convert it into something else? Do I really have to fight so hard against this void?
As soon as these questions arose in my consciousness, I had to investigate. I returned to myself. I started to meditate and visualize my emptiness. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I managed to turn the brick into a feather, which fluttered very quietly back and forth in this dark hole.
When this feather finally reached the bottom and landed softly on the ground, it turned into me. I landed on my buttocks and moved gently back and forth on my back until I became still. That was the moment for me that I knew I had a choice: do I stay at the bottom of my emptiness now, or do I get up like the Phoenix again, spread my wings and fly upwards to the light?
One night passed and when I woke up the next morning I knew: I want to live!
I gathered all my strength, got up and started fighting again. I had to find the balance between action and tranquility, I had to learn to accept that there is no harm in making myself vulnerable, to take off my mask and to be myself. I had to learn to accept that I didn't always have to be the pack leader and that sometimes (very sometimes) I can be led by someone else. I had to learn that asking for help can be a strength, not a weakness. And I had to learn to trust.
My emptiness is still dark, still nothing ... but it's no longer scary. I don't fight this void anymore, I embrace it as a part of my life and I go there consciously when my head is full ... because there ... in the void ... where there is nothing else ... are also no thoughts. My emptiness has become my serene place, where I can find peace again. Are you also concerned with the philosophy of the void? And what does the void mean to you? Share your story by posting a message below.
Hans is originally a biologist who has always been interested in philosophy and profound life questions. In 2017 he started the Mirdan Institute and the Art & Philosophy café where people can simply be people, where curious people can philosophize about the strangest ideas.
Hans gives inner walks, a unique experience that offers you the opportunity to dive deep into your subconscious mind from a safe place. Hans does not ask direct accompanying questions such as what do you want to do or where do you have to go, but he asks you to look within yourself at what you feel, smell and experience.
Tip: Also read Hans's blog article on this topic
About the author
Limor Smits is an alternative life coach, shadow coach, spiritual mentor, inspirator and motivator.
In her practice she offers private sessions as well as workshops in groups.
She also organizes monthly fire women's circles and gives various inspiring and motivating lectures in which she shares stories from her personal life and experiences.