Dancing with Empty Hands

Read time: 3 minutes

I used to Love showing how much I knew.

How qualified I was. How deeply I’d studied. How many nights I’d spent wrestling with thought, with reflection, with books — what I was up to in the world.

I wore my “knowledge” like armour, like proof of worthiness.

Truth is — I still sometimes do.

We all do, I imagine.

Because somewhere inside us is a voice whispering,

You’re not enough. Not brilliant enough. Not experienced enough.

For years, that voice rode me like a seesaw: I’d lift myself by proving, by teaching, by showing. Then I’d fall, because I needed someone to validate it.

But lately… something’s shifted.

What used to be my ceiling — the thing I pushed for — has become my floor.

I’ve built muscle in me, slowly, in silence, in failures: the muscle of not needing to prove.

It no longer feels urgent to always speak, to always display, to always give opinion.

I’m okay with saying: I don’t know. I’m okay with imperfect service. I’m okay with letting whatever wants to come, to come through me.

I’m discovering more and more that Wisdom isn’t about knowing more.

It’s about Being more empty.

Open.

Unclaimed.

Letting Spirit move in me because I’m not crowding it with my own will.

In these moments... I think of nature.

Plants don’t argue. Trees don’t prove.

They don’t tell you how wise they are.

They just grow. They just are. No need to defend. No need to assert. They live their truth in silence.

That’s the kind of Wisdom I am constantly tapping into.

One of my Being declarations — the one I keep returning to — is:

I am the Ultimate Student. An empty cup. Always open.

Because when I am empty, creation is possible.

When my disk is full, nothing new can be written.

No matter how powerful the system, when there’s no space left — it lags. It freezes. It crashes.

You can’t open new files. You can’t save anything meaningful.

It doesn’t matter how many tools it has — without space, it’s unusable.

And that’s how I feel when I’m too full of needing to know, needing to show, needing to speak.

But when I’m empty? I’m limitless.

The operating system of my Being is clear, creative, open.

Anything can happen. Spirit has room to move.

So I practice letting go.

Letting the edges soften. Trusting that even when I don’t know — there is something deeper knowing through me.

Yes — I am the coach. Yes — I do have insight. And sometimes I want to demonstrate that.

But, for me, the dance is in balancing.

The delicate rhythm between offering and receiving.

Between speaking what I know… and honouring what I don’t.

Between the teacher in me… and the eternal student I’ll always Be.

That’s the beauty of this work — it’s never static.

It moves. It breathes. It invites me to respond to what’s here, not what I rehearsed.

Some days I’m the one holding space.

Some days I’m the one being held — by the moment, by the mystery, by the quiet knowing that says, “You don’t have to perform today. Just be here.”

That’s the kind of dance (& art) I am continually learning to master.

Not a routine. Not a choreography.

But a sacred improvisation with Life itself.

So... with that, I end this with a reminder — to me, but also to you:

There is no need to always show. No need to always teach. No need to always prove.

Sometimes, the greatest presence is found in emptiness.

Sometimes, letting your mind loosen is the most powerful thing you can do.

When I am empty — that is where I live. When I drop the need to know — that is where I become more.

And that’s why I believe this:

No matter how full Life may try to make me feel — the one who remains empty will always come up on top.

With Love,

Julian