The Many Flavors of Absence

A guy walks into a bar and asks for a coffee without cream. The bartender replies, “Sorry, we’re out of cream—how about a coffee without milk instead?” 

It’s a simple joke, but it highlights something curious: absence has weight. Psychologically, a coffee without cream doesn’t feel quite the same as a coffee without milk. 

Now, let’s take it a step further. Is the absence of a loved one the same as the absence of a random stranger? Of course not. Absence isn’t just a void—it carries the shape of what’s missing. 

The ancient Greeks had a word for this: steresis (στερήσις), the idea that everything is defined by both what is present and what is absent. Zen philosophy explores a similar concept with mu (無), suggesting that sometimes, absence is a kind of presence in itself. 

So next time you order a coffee without cream, pause for a second—what is it you really don’t want to be in there?

The Impossible Absence

In this naturalistic painting, there is no human being. And yet… Even when a painting appears to be empty of human presence, there is the inescapable human presence of the one who painted it.
Your gaze on the painting merges with the artist’s gaze. You see, through the emotions and the eyes of the one who spent hours studying this landscape. Art is a gift, it’s a “present”—the word is well chosen.
The artist becomes disembodied, transcending the physical, to offer you a front-row seat on the stage of his creation, where you’re invited to immerse yourself in his illusory representation of the world.

Painting by Guo Xi