The Space Between

This morning I came out of my building and saw two cars, the one parked uncomfortably close behind the other. It was so funny and also strikingly beautiful, the crumpled license plate, the proximity of the front and back bumpers, silhouetted by the morning rays, like one of those figure-ground vase pictures. If I had had my camera, I'd have taken a couple pictures and posted on One Little Joy under the title "Kiss my Butt." I almost went back upstairs to do just that, but I was already barely going to make it to work by nine.

Alas. Instead, I just describe it to you and leave you with a little snippet of Taoist philosophy:

Thirty spokes meet in the hub,

but the empty space between them

is the essence of the wheel.

Pots are formed from clay,

but the empty space between it

is the essence of the pot.

Walls with windows and doors form the house,

but the empty space within it

is the essence of the house.