Saturday, April 14, 2012

Living on the Edge

That title connotes a sense of danger, doesn't it? I am learning that living at the edge of things is actually pleasant and calming. I used to live in the middle, the thick of it, the swirling and busy center. It was stressful. There wasn't much time to come up for air.
Nature raises young here.
I am trying to do the same.
I met a woman recently who works full time and homeschools her son. They travel the world together. She was able to parcel out her conversational needs into sections that fit her time restraints. Her handshake was firm and friendly. She left within half an hour of our introduction. She had gathered what she needed and moved forward in a leaping way. I remember those days. I remember them less fondly now that my perspective is from the edge. Here, I can still fall into bed exhausted, but not stressed. I am tired because I was working the Earth or climbing a rock or helping my child navigate emotional lessons. I spend more time outside and at the library, which is exactly how I spent my time as a child. There is more laughter on the edge of things, and it echoes rather than being swallowed by the rush of activity surrounding those in the midst of things.

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