Edges have always been fascinating places to me. I love to meander the liminal space where a field turns into a forest, where the plant life feels diverse and abundant. A close friend just moved to a town in Colorado right where the prairie turns vertical and erupts into the Rocky Mountains, and I can't wait to visit her there.
I like my conversations and relationships to contain edge, by which I mean: a cutting through the usual topics and stances and arrival to what feels like a more real, raw, honest, open space. I love to walk figuratively hand in hand with another into new lands, or at least to the edge of the field of the status quo or popular thought, where nuance and imagination and a sense of playfulness still flitter about. In years past, before I had developed grace and compassion to go along with this tendency, my incentive was probably rather righteous in spirit, wanting to teach or to prove, whereas now, with some time-obtained grace and compassion having been developed, my deeper desire is to connect in a more meaningful way.
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Edges. Out here in our treasured Okanogan Highlands, we're mere miles from remote Canadian border crossings, and looking westward, the Pasayten Wilderness extending into the vast Mt. Baker wilderness area, placing us right on what feels like the edge of civilization. Next week, I move to a small forested island in the Salish Sea, another edge-feeling place, floating in the northwest corner of the contiguous U.S., solid ground, yes, but nearly ocean.
Maybe you've heard tales of Selkies- mythological creatures in Celtic and Norse lore who can take the form of a seal, or of a woman. I think this speaks to something deep in the human psyche that contains dual natures, perhaps even contradiction. If we aren't able to reconcile the various worlds that exist in us, to lace them together into one beautiful and functional fabric, then the edge becomes a place we avoid, feeling pressured instead to always choose one or the other, rather than face potential ostracization of being perceived as an outlier.
But I think it's crucial for each of us to deeply honor who we are, without influence as much as possible, and to bring that fully to the table of life. Usually this will involve a degree of fringe living, of edge-walking, but I've found that all the best people, the most interesting thought, and unspeakable beauty are all contained there.
