Desolate Night Talks

Chapter 5: Retreat to Emptiness

One late night, the female student returned to the apartment to find the male engineer already waiting, a pot of freshly brewed tea on the table. The fragrant steam curled softly into the air, mingling with the stillness of the night. As usual, they began to talk, but this time, her demeanor was markedly different. A heaviness hung about her, as though she was finally ready to unburden herself of the thoughts she had long kept hidden.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking…” she started hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, “Maybe I should leave all of this behind. Let it all go… perhaps even…” She paused, her words catching in her throat, then said quietly, “Retreat into emptiness.”

The male engineer blinked, visibly taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a statement from her—a young woman who had always seemed driven by a quiet but resolute ambition. He set his teacup down and looked at her intently, as if trying to peer into the depths of her turmoil.

“Are you serious?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m not sure,” she sighed, her gaze distant. “It’s just… everything in life—pursuits, efforts, even ideals—they all feel like chains. Buddhism speaks of emptiness. Maybe I should try to let go of everything and seek inner peace.”

There was a faint glimmer of clarity in her words, yet they were also tinged with confusion. She began to recall fragments of Buddhist wisdom she had once read but dismissed: impermanence, the futility of clinging, the liberation found in letting go. These ideas had once seemed abstract, but now their significance began to take root in her mind.

“Buddhism teaches letting go,” the engineer said, raising an eyebrow, “but do you really understand what it means to let go?”

She fell silent, lowering her head. After a moment, she shook it gently. “Maybe I don’t. I just know that the more I pursue things, the emptier I feel inside. It’s as if I’m chasing something that isn’t truly mine—a worldly success, an illusion of fulfillment. And I’m afraid… afraid that if I keep going, I’ll lose myself completely.”

The male engineer nodded slowly, his tone deep and measured. “Buddhism says, ‘The sea of suffering is boundless; turn back to reach the shore.’ But turning back doesn’t mean running away. The suffering and anxiety we feel often come from our own attachments. Perhaps true letting go isn’t about abandoning everything—it’s about rediscovering a self that isn’t bound by those attachments.”

She listened intently, her mind swirling with the implications of his words. She began to realize that she had misunderstood the boundary between letting go and escaping. Her desire to retreat stemmed from pain, but true detachment in Buddhism wasn’t about fleeing—it was about transcending, about breaking free from the chains of attachment.

“So, if I truly let go of these attachments,” she asked softly, “can I find the peace I’m searching for?”

“That depends on your heart,” the engineer replied, his gaze calm yet penetrating. “True Buddhism isn’t about avoiding life—it’s about confronting it, facing the pain and challenges head-on, and finding the opportunity for enlightenment within them. You can let go of everything to seek peace, but if it’s just an escape from reality’s pain, then this so-called ‘retreat to emptiness’ is nothing more than avoidance.”

Her thoughts deepened as she reflected on his explanation. His words felt like a mirror, revealing the struggles hidden within her. She had always equated escape with liberation, but now she saw that true liberation wasn’t about running—it was about confronting. She had never truly understood what it meant to embrace “non-self” or to let go, but now, a sense of clarity was dawning upon her.

For a moment, they sat in silence. The night stretched on, quiet and still, as the scent of tea lingered in the room like a gentle reminder of presence.

“Perhaps…” she said finally, her voice barely audible, “perhaps I need to learn to accept the absurdity and pain of this world, instead of constantly trying to flee from it. After all, maybe simply living is its own form of practice.”

The male engineer gave a faint smile, a flicker of approval in his eyes. He nodded. “Exactly. Life isn’t meant to be escaped. It’s meant to be lived through, with all its challenges and contradictions. Maybe in the process, you’ll come to understand what it really means to let go.”

She picked up her teacup and sipped slowly, letting the bitterness settle on her tongue. It was a stark, cleansing bitterness, and she resolved to imprint its taste into her memory. Perhaps she had taken the first tentative step toward inner peace—not by fleeing or clinging, but by learning to coexist with the world’s sorrows and joys.

In that moment, the weight on her shoulders seemed slightly lighter, the darkness of the night slightly less overwhelming. She hadn’t found all the answers yet, but she was starting to see the path ahead—not as a way out, but as a way through.