How do I prepare for a conversation about nothing with you?
No, we're not talking about a new Seinfeld script -
Seinfeld, as in the "show about nothing". That's
nothing as in nothing in particular. I'm talking about
nothing as in profound. You're not that thing you call
in which that thing you call
shows up. That's profound. That's profound nothing.
And how do I prepare for a conversation about that nothing
I don't pick up any books. I don't go to the library to research.
That's not because I know nothing isn't in books or in the library.
It's because I just don't know how to prepare for a
conversation about nothing with you. So I don't do anything to prepare.
And that's when I get it! That's when I get not doing anything is the
way to prepare for a conversation about nothing. But that's not not
doing anything as in being idle. That's not doing
anything while being the clearing I really am, the clearing
in which that thing I call
Although I don't yet realize it, given the way this preparation is
going, it will play out through two distinct phases.
The first is to be with the nothing. In a burst of clarity (not mental,
not cognitive: rather, visual), I see the being I am. It's
nothing! No, really nothing. I don't mean nothing as in
nothing in particular. It's a shimmering, beautiful nothing emptiness,
pure creativity. The respect for its creativity gives way to the awe of
its power. I acquiesce to its power. I don't know how it does what it
does ... but it does what it does! I don't know how it's
alive ... but it is. All my life I've lived lying and pretending that I
know it, that I understand it. But I don't.
And I never have. I've just lied a lot and pretended a lot I know it
and understand it. And now, given our impending conversation about
nothing, I raise myself up to it, open myself up to it,
and step forward into it.
Granted, it's challenging stepping into nothing. This isn't for the
faint hearted. But if it's worth anything, bear in mind the only
thing you can lose when you step into nothing is what's not you anyway.
The second is the realization that language is the access to nothing.
It's also the vehicle for sharing its beauty and its magnificence. When
I realize this, I realize you can't say nothing in a conversation about
nothing. That's odd - again, in a profound sort of way:
you can't say nothing in a conversation about nothing ...
aside ... so I start looking at what I'll say. I start looking at what
I'll ask, looking at what I'll share. I write them all down. I write
down items of news (to bring you up to date), and expressions of
whimsy, for what would an opportunity like this be without at least
one pithy expression of
I check my list, order it, then reorder it, then re-reorder it
again. Then I abandon any sense of order and start over. In a
conversation about nothing, it doesn't matter what comes last or what
comes first, as long as everyone is left with more power when it's
complete then when it started.
Then the list is done. Nothing else comes. So I straighten my stack of
clean, white A4 paper with my list on the top, lay my
sharpened HB pencil by it's side, and I wait.