I am the edge. And it’s not a neat corner but the heart-skipping, peer over the side wondering out loud into the abyss kind. So I have one eye closed and one eye open and I’m breathing; meandering through the murky stillness hoping to catch a whiff of inspiration, ray of light, slice of peace. I like it here, mostly because I’ve practiced edginess long enough to know that if I’m patient, stay out of my own way and trust, I will transform. And it will be glimmeringly good.
I talked about the edge today with my customer Mary Anne as she struggled to believe that she could lift her arms over her head in chair assisted Warrior 1. “I have you,” I said, as I held on firmly to her hips. “Susan there is almost $300,000 of reconstructed body parts between my pelvis and my knees. And the floor is concrete. Falling is not an option.” “Gotcha,” I repeated. We paused and she lifted; pelvis straight, heart high, hands wide open. She paused, and exhaled, laughing.
“Feel it,” I whispered. “From the inside out. And know that embracing your courage and leaning toward your edge is always more exhilarating when you are upheld, supported and encouraged by someone else. None of us are alone in our singular transformations. I’m so grateful you shared your’s with me. Next time, mine with you.”