The Void: Revisited

Really, this is such an interesting phenomenon. The same thoughts happen each time I click into my in-boxes - all three of them - and see that they are empty:

Loser. Lazy. You have nothing to do. Nobody needs/wants you. Etcetera.

If there is any clearer indication of the work/identity knot that was tied for me - by my folks' example - in my childhood and which I've spent many years tightening, I'd certainly like to see it.

I can learn something by reflecting on the opposite experience:

I see a ton of messages in my in-box and, just beneath the surface - represented by the thought that I have so much to do and isn't email and evil medium that invites arbitrary and meaningless communication between people, who, let's face it, are just keeping tabs on each other for when they need something - I have the sense that I am busy, wanted, needed, fulfilled.

And when the shit hits the fan - when I reach my limit - I know that I will be able to martyr myself on the craziness of my life, as represented by the presence of 8000 emails in my in-box.

It's a lie. More or less. Because insofar as I created the conditions within which I could become a martyr, I know that I have failed the most authentic version of myself. And that, to me, is dishonest. Period.

What a story. And right now, when I open my in-box, I experience The Void. It feels icky. The Void, here, is the reality that I am responsible to act, to do something with my life, made up of this moment, and this one, and this one. I can do it or not do it. My choice.

To the degree that I present myself to others as "busy, busy, busy" - which is how most people, I find, respond to the question "How are you?" (including me) - I abdicate responsibility for my own life, I communicate the message that my life is not under my control.

What's true, what's actually happening with my in-box is this: A message comes in and I make it a point to respond immediately, then delete it. The ball is in their court. If it's a plan I'm dealing with, I write it down on a calendar. If a message contains something that necessitates action, I write it on a to-do list.

In this way, there is no written or visual record of my commitments to others, my relationships, my plans, my creativity, my goings-on. My only currency is action.

No wonder it's anxiety inducing. I'm staring into a kind of void. I have nothing to show to anyone. It's all show and no tell. And by doing this, I'm acting in accordance with my own deep understanding of what it means to be responsible and authentic.

So there.