Martin Heidegger’s roots were in Phenomenology, from Phainomenon, ‘what shows itself in itself’. And he was arguably the dominant influence on Academic Philosophy and high cafe- speculation for most of the last century. [I’ll take Les Deux Magots over a library any sunny day.]
Heidegger approached and circled in the vicinity of Shūnyam but never broke through.
And he had to invent a whole new terminology with achingly looped conceptualizations [‘the possibility whose probability it is solely to be possible’] to bridge the sharp divide between where his readers stood and what he saw at the edge.
Here is Martin Heidegger:
‘The indefinability of Being does not dispense with the question of its meaning but forces it upon us. Being..is the self-evident concept..in all our knowing and predicating.
Everyone understands ‘The sky is blue’, ‘I am happy’.. but this average comprehensibility only demonstrates the incomprehensibility. An enigma lies a-priori..
We do not know what Being means but already when we ask: ‘What is Being?’, we stand in an understanding of the ‘is’ without being able to determine conceptually what the ‘is’ means..‘
I knew an artist once in New York’s Greenwich Village, seeking fulfillment in the shades of beige and brown, and utterly dismissive of all philosophical rant. But he always kept a hard-cover edition of ‘Being and Time’, Heidegger’s most unreadable 600 pages, a strained translation from a nuanced High-German, on his Naguchi coffee-table.