Nothingness

Eastern artists believe that their work should have space in it for viewers to fill. If it's too complete, if it leaves no room for interpretation, then those who view it cannot take an active part in understanding it. A water pitcher's clay form is not its essence; the empty space inside is what makes it useful. Similarly, good art allows beholders to enter the work and be in it, artist from the east believe.

That's why I love donuts. Not only are they delicious, but they're profound. Just think – a piece of fried dough is not a donut if it doesn't have a hole in the center. It's the negative space occupying a donut's middle that creates its essence. In other words, nothingness and donutness are synonymous.

If you quiet your thoughts and concentrate on the nothingness all around you, slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, donuts appear everywhere. Amazing realizations will come as you meditate; the cavernous space filling the Mall of America is simply vast donutness. The volumes of air inside the Houston Astrodome are donutness.

Moving through space astounded and delighted by the swirling donut space all around you is a delicious way of life, especially when your favorites emerge from the void. Like the kind with sprinkles.