Here’s the thing: fullness and fulfillment are not the same species. One is about quantity—how many meetings, how many shoes, how many followers. The other is about quality—how much joy, how much meaning, how much depth. You can have a suitcase crammed so tight you have to sit on it to zip it shut, but when you finally get where you’re going, you realize you packed nothing you actually want to wear.
That’s the trap of modern life. We’re taught to accumulate—accolades, obligations, gadgets, people on LinkedIn—but sometimes all we’re really gathering is clutter. And clutter, whether in your house or in your psyche, doesn’t feed the soul. It just fills space.
Here’s the playful twist: emptiness isn’t failure. It’s an invitation. It’s the room in the suitcase you wish you’d left for the things that matter. The hollow feeling is not a sign you’re broken; it’s a nudge from the universe asking: Hey, what if you swapped some of the stuff you don’t care about for the stuff you secretly crave?
Philosophers and mystics have whispered this forever. The Stoics knew a crowded life isn’t necessarily a good one. Buddhists remind us that emptiness is actually fertile ground. Even poets suggest that the pauses between the notes are what make the music.
So if your life is brimming but your heart feels barren, don’t panic. Don’t add more. Instead, subtract.
Make space. Let some air in. Then, plant something playful in that soil—curiosity, awe, delight, maybe even a little mischief. Because life’s banquet table doesn’t need more dishes. It needs more flavor.
Sometimes the best thing you can do for your fullness is let yourself feel a little empty. That’s where the real feast begins.
-Chip