Edge

Everyone has a limit.

That does not mean it is the edge of them, that they have an edge to their world, but it is a barrier.  It is the extent the edge that we individually deem acceptable; and contrary to popular belief, it is a fluid and malleable line that can be moved and molded as easily as thoughts can be conceived and shaped.  That is where I find my best thinking and living done. 

That is the place I always seem to find myself.

People seem to be trying to find the Edge of Chrissy.  Pushing me as far to the edge, my edge, as I can go.  Some people have indeed found the Edge of Chrissy, and like those before Columbus, simply fallen off my world.

-I will not be trifled with. I will not allow my energy to be used so carelessly, and I will not leave myself and those I love, unprotected when under fire. There is too much at stake, too much in the balance, to allow it all to be thrown down, away, and lost. 

And people push.  My yellow roman candles flare, my dark brother calls his ice storms, even Quixote tilts his lance towards my edge.  As if I were not, myself, a dynamic shape.  As if I were not myself, a feeling, intelligent creature, capable of entertaining ideas that were not my own.  As if I could not entertain opposing ideas simultaneously...

I've always walked the line, pushed the envelope right to that edge.  Balance is everything there; and I can see myself perched at the edge of the world, ready to leap into the clear blue open, or dash myself against the certain crushing black below.  Feeling both ways at once, living both potential futures, aware of everything in play and everything in motion, I've always lived there; everyone does to some extent.

Out on the edge of war, or reason, the edge of desire, and glory, you can see out into the future.  You can see out into the clear blue sky, beyond the storms and turmoil at hand.  The choices play themselves out in front of you, play themselves out to their ends, and you can see what it is that you hope, and what it is that is real. 

I can see what I hope in people, their mettle deep down, and what I, and the world, knows of them, which is too often far more disappointing.  Out on the edge, I can see the cube both ways, that the cat is both alive and dead. I can see my choices and my futures, and how they tie to others' choices, and futures...

...

I've never been one to back down off the edge, to call it unsafe and lean back into the complacency of stable land.  I've always been the dynamic water, crashing and warring against the shores and cliffs, against myself, spraying upwards, dipping and cresting, green with envy and blue from laughter at the land for never moving, never giving way, and never, ever faltering. 

...

But why go to the edge at all?  Just to see the height? To feel the thrill and rush of the wind, pushing, pulling, calling and shouting at you?  How is it that we all live there?  It is the place of decision.  And if we all survive on cope or die, then we all live on this edge.  Yes, roll your eyes at my dramatic presentation of everyday decision.  Humor me just for a second and grasp this idea: Live every second. Choose every second. Be present and aware.  Call the moment of stillness to you, the OM, the State of Grace. Feel the force of your own life, you own happiness.  Feel your balance. 

People have a way of finding themselves on this edge.  They use all form of crutch (broad religion), strap (family tradition), and tool (technology) to find themselves safely perching the edge, only to realize that the crutches, straps, and tools are useless against that base fear that grips you out there.  Out there, it's just the balance of the world and you, and your choice.  Ultimately, it doesn't matter what you believe, just that you live.  

I touched very lightly on many ideas I've been mulling over the past few months. People, relationships, religion, this term, and my own sanity.  It seems I've had no time to hack out the meat of what I need to express, and when it comes to me in bursts and fits, I am away from any recording device (usually in the shower).  This is an echo of the memory faded and past, and that vagueness is reflected in my writing.  I cannot apologize for who I am, nor can anyone despite themselves, but I can mourn the loss of great potential when it is gone as it is now.

Happily, I've survived the past term.  I've gained, and lost some good friends to time, distance, and circumstance; and those few, dear friends I keep in my heart always. The loss has exhausted me of trusting yet more people in my life, and the gain has provided some exceptionally sweet relief to that exhaustion.  This exercise in trust has left me hopeful and tentatively optimistic of the future terms as I add new names to the-net-that-follows.

But enough talk of nets and cliffs and edges.  Now, about that leap...