Emptiness is silence. It is not stillness of the grave. It is midnight silence, when the wind rests, birds sleep, and the sun is hours from rising. It is the quiet that falls with snow, when the fields of labor are covered in white and trees have withdrawn into patience. That quietness is not the cessation of shouts, pounding feet, and pumping arms, but their origin. It is the source of day and the origin of spring. Silence is not the end. It is the beginning. Wuji is essential stillness, the packed potential before the beginning. It is the beginning of the beginning. Only after silence breaks into sound does emptiness become all things.
Deng Ming-Dao, The Living I Ching