Come To The Edge

Come To The Edge is one of my favorite poems.  Mary Schmidt Campbell, former Dean of Tisch School of the Arts, used to recite it at the Tisch graduation and I fell in love with it.  
 
I like sharing it with you all this time of the year because this is the season of change, transformation, moving on.  Whether it be a graduation, a new job, or what have you, change is inevitable and if we could begin to accept that, Thich Nhat Hanh says "...we would suffer a lot less."

Come To The Edge recognizes our fear around change.  It peels it back a layer at a time.  It nudges us towards the edge through our discomfort, our busyness, and FEAR, which is so big Christopher gave us three excuses (too high, we're afraid, we'll fall).  The last of which is deep.  "We'll fall" is failure, death.  We think we won't recover if the outcome isn't as we want it to be, that it will be the "death" of what we know.

Well, what if it is?

What if the death is the death of always being in control? 
What if the death/failure takes you to heights you couldn't even dream of?
AND
What about the birth of all the wonderful things that death can bring? Have you looked outside at the all the flowers and trees blooming?!/!?
Are you willing to risk never experiencing that which you don't know for comfort?

Crossing the threshold into uncertainty takes tremendous courage.  In the words of Joseph Campbell, "The Hero needs to change, even if they are unaware of that need."  I would add, while you may not be able to describe it as a need for change, you can feel your body's internal life stirring. It can be unsettling and oftentimes won't allow you to rest.  Key into those feelings and LISTEN.

Remember you always have a choice.  I beckon you to "come to the edge."

Come To The Edge
by Christopher Logue

“Come to the edge,” he said.
“We’re comfortable back here,” they said.

“Come to the edge,” he said.
“We’re too busy,” they said.

“Come to the edge,” he said.
“It’s too high,” they said.

“Come to the edge,” he said.
“We’re afraid,” they said.

“Come to the edge,” he said.
“We’ll fall,” they said.

“Come to the edge,” he said.
And they did.

And he pushed them.
And they flew.

Love, love, love,
Mama Nay