The Power of Nothingness: A Moment That Changed Us All

Yesterday, during one of our Family Constellation circles, we experienced something truly profound—something I can only describe as the supreme experience of nothingness. It was one of the most serene, powerful, and uplifting moments I’ve ever witnessed.

A client came in carrying a heavy heart. She said, “I feel like I’m in an abusive relationship.” But the person she was speaking about wasn’t a partner—it was her 14-year-old adopted son. This young boy, deeply wounded by abandonment, was acting out with controlling behaviour and harsh, intolerable language. The family was at breaking point.

When I asked her, “What do you need—for you?” she replied, “I need to find myself again. I’ve lost who I am since I adopted this child.” And though she was clear that he is her son and that won’t change, she was also clear: something in her needed healing.

As a facilitator, I didn’t want to dive into stories. Instead, I followed what I felt in my body and heart: this felt like an entanglement. A burden, perhaps carried from the family system. We set up just those two—the burden and the entanglement.

What revealed itself next stunned us all.

Both the burden and the entanglement appeared in the field as young children—two representatives, curled up in immense distress. One felt like she needed to disappear entirely, even saying she wished she could pour something over herself to dissolve completely. The other, also a child, showed signs of deep, silent trauma. Neither could move. They were frozen in time.

Intuitively, I sensed something more ancient, more collective—something like child trafficking, slavery, or forced displacement. I shared this very gently with my client, who I hadn’t yet placed in the field, to protect her from being overwhelmed.

When I carefully named “slave trade” and “trafficking,” both representatives felt seen. But the fear in the field stayed high. So I introduced two new elements: the seller and the buyer. Oddly, neither showed any feeling. For them, it was simply “a transaction.” The atrocity of it wasn’t felt. They saw children as objects—commodities.

I removed the seller and buyer from the field. And suddenly, something shifted. The oppressive tension eased. The children—those representations of burden and entanglement—finally made a small movement. One lay down on the floor. The other, seeing this, quietly said, “I want to do the same.” They both curled into fetal positions. The room fell completely silent.

And then, after a long pause, one representative slowly sat up. “I can’t stay here,” she said. “I need to sit.” Then, “I can stand.” And she did. I offered the words: We survived.

This stirred something. She turned to the other and said, Against all odds, we survived.

And so the second child stood too. They faced each other, deeply moved.

“We have nothing. Yet we survived.”

And in that moment—something extraordinary happened.

They felt life. Not joy or happiness, not even strength in the usual sense—but life itself. Life, arising from nothingness. From utter emptiness. A deep peace began to fill the space. The kind that can’t be forced or created. It simply arrives… when the system allows.

Then I invited the client to enter the field. She looked at these two who had endured so much, and said simply, I feel such joy. And peace.

And we all knew—this was what she had longed for. Not answers. Not fixing. But a return to herself. To peace.

Eventually, we brought in her adopted sons. They were still. Quiet. Speechless. I asked them, “Can you honour the ancestors of your adoptive mother?” And they bowed. Deeply. In full reverence.

Again, we witnessed the power of survival—the miracle of spirit holding on, even when all else is lost.

This experience didn’t erase the pain or the history. But it did something else. It brought light into a space where only darkness had lived. It reminded us that even in the most unbearable conditions, life can still whisper.

I don’t know how this constellation will shift my client’s relationship with her sons. But I do know this: something sacred took place. She no longer needs to fight with her anger, her pain, or her powerlessness. She now knows what it feels like to rest in peace—not as an ending, but as a beginning.

And those of us who stood in the circle with her—we were changed, too.

You can read about the power of the empty space. You can study it, imagine it, try to understand it. But nothing compares to standing in it… feeling it… breathing it in.

We touched something beyond words. Something eternal. And for that, I am deeply grateful.