Buddha’s disciple Subhuti suddenly discovered the richness and fecundity of emptiness: the realisation that everything is impermanent, unsatisfactory and empty of self. In this mood of divine emptiness he sat in bliss under a tree when suddenly flowers began to fall all around him. And the gods whispered, “We are enraptured by your sublime teachings on emptiness.” Subhuti replied, “But I haven’t uttered a word about emptiness.” “True,” the gods replied. “You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard of emptiness. This is true emptiness.” And the showers of blossoms continued to fall. If I had spoken of my emptiness or even been aware of it would it be emptiness? Music needs the hollowness of the flute, letters, the blankness of the page, light, the void called a window, holiness, the absence of the self. 🙂