turning toward the empty

I shared a line from a poem about finding allies in nature on a Reddit board, and among other responses was this:

If you want to be seen, allow yourself to be lonely.

This spoke to me deeply. Why? Among other things, it reminded me that so often Lao Tzu tells us to do the opposite of what we would like to see happen in our lives:

If we wish to earn respect, we are told to take a place beneath others.

If we wish for knowledge and understanding, we are asked to rest in unknowing.

If we wish for wealth, we are encouraged to stop seeking it—and not cling to it when it comes.

And then this: if we want to be truly seen, perhaps we must first allow ourselves to be fully ourselves. That may mean stepping away from familiar circles and feeling lonely. But in that loneliness, something honest can happen. Those who truly recognize us can finally find us.

Allowing ourselves to turn toward the empty can be immensely difficult. It requires faith in the Tao, patience, and a loosening of our attachment to outcomes. It can feel as threatening as stepping off a cliff—counterintuitive, unsettling. Yet when we feel it in our bones, it is often the truest step we can take. We leave ground that feels firm but is quietly barren. We move from the formal and visible into the formless. It is a deep acceptance of what is, and a trust that what is needed will arrive in its own time.

This is the spirit of turning toward the empty. We stop reaching outward and allow life to move toward us. What belongs will remain. What does not will fall away. This, too, is the way.