Sunyata: Emptiness

These weeks have given me a stark reminder of Buddhist doctrine of sunyata, or emptiness. As I have (slowly) matured throughout the years, overcoming obstacles large and small, I began to understand and accept the phenomenon of emptiness... at least for most things. For one exception, I know I can rely on my family no matter what. Although certainly a Buddhist would remind me that even family is empty and transient, I could at least attest that family has been a constant in my life and should still be for years to come. Furthermore, my friends have been there for me. Though the faces change from time to time, I can always call on certain ones and receive a positive response, a willingness to reconnect and help out when needed.  My own determination is another thing that I have cultivated to be as solid as it can be, though there are more challenges ahead of me that will continue to push it to its limits.

But beyond these factors, and to an extent, even within these factors, all things are empty. For an enlightened Buddhist, this is a liberating truth, a truth to be content with and to sincerely live and appreciate life for what it is. For those of us who are yet to be enlightened, including myself, this is a scary, depressing, deflating truth. We still cling to things impermanent, wishing so badly that they were not what they actually are.

This past year, I invested myself into something I thought would be permanent, despite my past experience in which I learned to never do that again. Otherwise, as the Buddhists and Stoics simply and wisely stated, you will suffer (dukkha), or you will experience emotional disturbance.

Well, shit, here I am, still suffering, still emotionally disturbed. As I feared should the (I naively thought) impossible happen, my world shattered apart.

As I fought the attachment to this thing, my meaning for life molded into that thing. And now that the end has come, I feel the emptiness. I feel the emptiness of life. Will Barrett, in The Second Coming, asks two questions:

Why live?


And then later on he asks,


Why not live?

I think I am in the stage between the two questions asked. I sincerely don't know why I should continue living anymore. I don't have anyone dependent on me, to my knowledge. I have no family of my own (as in, husband, kids) to worry about their future should I depart from this life in the near future. Though my family and friends now would mourn the loss of their daughter, sister, and friend, over time they'll likely get over it.

At the same time, I know it would be a damn waste if I suddenly ended my life. A wonderful thing amidst this suffering was that I had my graduation, in which my hard work during my four years in college were recognized with an abundance of awards and a degree with the distinction of summa cum laude. Though one does not need all of these awards and distinctions in college to do well in life, they are great signs of it. I know I have the potential to do good things for other people and the world.

The hard part is enduring life before such good things come about. It is depressing that I have come back to viewing living as a test of endurance rather than a joy. You may ask, can't life encompass both? It certainly can. I just find it hard to believe for myself at this point.

A wise friend of mine said that at some point we must all learn to live alone. As sad as I thought that statement was, I think she is right.

No longer shall I trust again in such empty things.