Hollow: what your word says about who you are right now
Emptiness and readiness are the same shape seen from different years.
A hollow is not a wound. It is a made thing. Someone carved out the log to build the canoe, cored the trunk so the flute could sing, rang the bell because it was empty enough to hold the sound. When Hollow is your word, you are that carved shape: not broken, made spacious, and not yet sure what the space is for.
You carry a quiet at the center that others read as steadiness. You show up whole. You do the things. And underneath the doing there is a room with the furniture gone, where feeling arrives, touches the wall, and echoes back before it lands. You know the echo. You have learned to walk around it without naming it.
The truth of Hollow is that emptiness and readiness are the same shape seen from different years. The gourd is scooped so it can carry water. The reed is bored through so breath can become music. You are not the absence at your center. You are the vessel built around it, and a vessel is only ever waiting to be filled or waiting to be played. That is a real thing to be right now. It is worth naming out loud, once, in a word that is actually yours.
Underneath hollow, the reading most often finds the Ghost rhythm, the pattern moving under the behavior.