You brought a book to read, but even as you unfold the chairs and open the umbrella, you know the book will remain unopened and unread. You have become emptiness and have no choice but to attend to it, or rather, let it attend to you. Everything is emptiness: the wind and sun, the pelicans flying in formation, the people playing frisbee. You are not in the world, and yet you are the world.
In the car on the way home, emptiness stops at the supermarket, walks along the aisles, and stands in the checkout line. It drives through town, over the rolling hills, and sees the mountains turning pink. At home, making dinner, chopping garlic and onions…all the little tasks of making a meal and cleaning up afterward are mysteriously empty and joyful. Emptiness reflecting on itself erases the past and renders hope irrelevant. To come upon it and abide in it is pure and simple happiness and is the fulfillment of our deepest desire.
Beautiful!