Unexpected Effect of Meditation: Craving Emptiness and Refusing It

Here is a counterintuitive finding that many don't get: as much as the feeling of vastness, stillness, and endlessness is highly sought after in meditation, many people get terrified when they first encounter it. It is too unfamiliar, too unusual.

The Sanskrit word that describes this state is "sunya," and it is translated into English as all of these, "Empty, void, hollow. Alone, solitary. Free from wanting, nonexistent. Space, heaven, atmosphere."

Our modern brains are so wired to constantly process information that emptiness feels bizarre and taboo. If you disagree with me, think of the last moment when you spent a couple of hours not doing anything - not reading, or watching, or listening. Without the company of your phone. How long ago was it that you and emptiness had a tête-à-tête?

The doggie and I were meditating by the lake the other day, and I realized that I couldn't register a single thought in my brain. Only my breath, which was steadily receiving the relaxed beauty of that warm day.

And to a part of me, it felt odd, taboo, too different.

Will I be OK if I don't have thoughts? Where did my personality go? Will it be back?

I wasn't worried. It was more of a curious recognition of how different my state of awareness was.

It was like being surrounded by spaciousness from every direction, extending from the center of my being into forever, and that space was filled with the quiet hum of power. Pranashakti going around its business, transforming itself from one form to another, as it has done for eons.

All nice and cute, but why discuss it on LinkedIn, a platform for achievement and professional development?

One of my goals for 2024 is to learn how to tolerate emptiness.

I have been meditating for 14 years, so I learned that spending sufficient time in Sunya is incredibly refreshing and is a must for a life of fulfillment and service.

To allow what I experience as "Mayya Shveygert, PhD" to disappear from the world for 40 minutes, get disassembled, let the molecules mingle with the infinite, and then get reintegrated again, ready to go back to the hustle and bustle.

Especially for writers, it seems crucial to make friends with the Void, as it is the source of creativity and power. It is like inhaling the Divine energy and letting it run through the body, before the "exhale", which is manifested as me getting things done in the world.

And yet a part of me doesn't trust "nothing" and does everything possible to fill it with "something." Maybe the majesty of Creation that shines, without being obstructed, through "nothing" is too much for my untrained self. Which is OK; I just need to train myself.

Like diamonds for girls, emptiness is a writer's best friend.