Absolute and Relative Truth, and the Spacious Path of Emptiness

In the Buddhist tradition, the teachings often arrive in paradox. They stretch our minds, soften our certainties, and invite us into a way of perceiving life that is less rigid, more spacious, and ultimately more compassionate.

One of these paradoxes lies in the teaching of two truths: the relative truth and the absolute truth. Together, they help us understand the subtle and liberating concept of emptiness - śūnyatā in Sanskrit - one of the most profound teachings in Buddhism.

The World of Relative Truth

Relative truth is the truth of our everyday lives. It is the world of names, identities, roles, and relationships.

It is the truth that tells us: this is a cup, that is a tree, you are my friend, I am a mother, the sun rises in the morning.

It’s not wrong or illusory. In fact, without relative truth, we could not navigate daily life. We need it to communicate, to connect, to care for one another. In this world of relativity, our joys and sorrows are real, and they matter.

Imagine a child who scrapes her knee. The pain is real, the tears are real, the comfort of a parent is real. In relative truth, there is no denying the experience.

But if we look more deeply, something else emerges. The knee, the pain, the body, the parent, even the child — all of these arise together, influenced by countless conditions. None of them exist as solid, permanent, or separate entities. This leads us into the second perspective.

The Horizon of Absolute Truth

Absolute truth looks beneath appearances. It reveals that all phenomena are empty of inherent existence.

This does not mean they don’t exist at all - rather, they do not exist as fixed, independent, unchanging entities. Everything is interdependent. Everything is in flux.

Take the example of a flower. On the surface, we see “a flower.” But look deeply, and you’ll find the rain, the soil, the sunshine, the gardener’s care, the pollinating bees. Without these, there would be no flower. And even as we admire it, the flower is already changing, already fading, already returning to the earth.

The flower is real in a relative sense, yet empty in an absolute sense. Empty of a permanent, separate self.

And this is what Buddhism means by emptiness.

Emptiness as Spaciousness

When we first hear the word “emptiness,” it can feel unsettling — as if it points to nothingness, void, or absence. But in Buddhist philosophy, emptiness is not bleak. It is a profound spaciousness.

It’s the fertile ground from which all things arise and into which they dissolve. It’s the openness that allows life to flow, transform, and renew itself.

Because things are empty, they are free to change. Because we are empty, we are not trapped by our past, our roles, or our fixed sense of self. Emptiness means potential, freedom, and the possibility of new ways of being.

Thích Nhất Hạnh once wrote: “Thanks to emptiness, everything is possible.”

The Union of the Two Truths

So how do relative and absolute truths work together?

If we only lived in relative truth, we might cling tightly to identities, possessions, and outcomes. Life could feel heavy, rigid, or overwhelming.

If we only lived in absolute truth, we might dismiss the world entirely — treating pain and joy as illusions, neglecting compassion for ourselves and others.

But Buddhism teaches us to hold both truths simultaneously. To bow to the reality of our human experiences — our love, our grief, our responsibilities — while also remembering their fluid, interconnected, and impermanent nature.

This union allows us to live fully in the world without becoming bound by it. We can care deeply, but not cling. We can grieve, but not collapse into despair. We can celebrate, knowing that change is part of the dance.

Living with Emptiness in Daily Life

What does all this mean for the way we live day to day?

It might mean pausing before reacting, remembering that the emotion rising within us is not fixed — it will shift and soften.
It might mean loosening our grip on perfection, knowing that our identity is not as solid as we imagine.
It might mean offering compassion more freely, recognising that every person is also empty of a separate self - woven together by countless conditions, just as we are.

Emptiness invites us to live with more fluidity and less grasping. To rest in the mystery of change. To trust in the interdependence of life.

A Reflection

Take a moment to breathe, and notice what arises in you as you sit with these truths.

What parts of your life feel heavy, rigid, or fixed? Can you soften your hold, even a little, by remembering their emptiness?

And what relationships, responsibilities, or experiences in your life are calling for you to honor them more fully — not as permanent, but as precious in their fleetingness?

This is the middle way, the spacious way: to honor the relative while resting in the absolute, to live in the fullness of the human story while remembering the boundless emptiness that holds it all.