Observe a page of writing. Black marks on white paper. The marks are full of meaning – for the person who wrote them and for the person who reads them. Between this meaning, between the words and between the letters, is space. The words always get much more of our attention, but both words and space are necessary to meaning.
A page with only marks on it is all black, unreadable and meaningless.
In general, the more space around the words, the more meaningful they are, one of the reasons why a page of poetry or song lyrics is more eloquent than, for example, a dense page of legalese.
As with writing, so with life. In this moment, we have the content of our lives – the thoughts, feelings, events, experiences, stuff, people. The “thingness” of life, if you like.
This we notice.
But also always there is the “no-thingness”. The space that lies within, around and beyond.
Space is what allows things – thoughts and feelings, events and experiences, people and animals and plants – to be.
Nothing is what makes everything.
Switch, as often as you can, into the nothing that is always here so you can see what things are being created.