The paradox is in the cracks, the leaks, the pores and holes. We are filled with empty spaces. We are stuffed with vacuum and void. The paradox is that we work relentlessly to fill in our blanks.

Closet of clutter, stack of shoes, pile of pretty postcards. We rush through the aisles of life loading our carts with stuff to fill us full. One more framed achievement nailed up on the wall. One more important appointment squished into the already tight schedule. One more flat face liked on the screen. We always need just one more, just one more. Just to get rid of that gnawing feeling of lack.

I look up at the night sky and see how we truly are. The space between the stars isn’t empty. God walks in those gaps.

Still, I wonder, maybe just a better job, a better man, a bigger house or a better looking body. But a trophy won’t fill the cracks, nor can a new skin cream. One more of anything just adds to the volume, and the weight, of the burden we then must lug along as we grope our way from here to there. The inner void always remains unaffected and intact.

The paradox is that the human form is whole on the outside and completely pore ridden on the inside. The miracle is that the divine dwells in our holes. I am made up of empty spaces filled to the brim with light. And so are you.