Quite simply, “the edge” is a place in space or time when I had to make a decision. Standing at a point where I needed to decide to jump or pull back. There were times when I retreated and I lost some wonderful opportunities. There were other times when I jumped, only to find that I was falling towards an ocean of fire. Many other times I made the right decision, either on my own or with the advice of others, welcome or not.

Eagles

I love eagles. I admire the calm confidence they portray. Most pictures of eagles show them alone, perched upon a strong branch, yet often they are seen soaring. They seem to be alone and at peace with themselves, but they are not really alone.  They have families that they are faithful to, remaining at the nest for years.

But their first flight was not without fear. Once the time comes for the first flight, the world looks much different from the edge of the nest than it did while sitting inside their shelter. It would seem so much safer for the little eagles just to step back and settle into the nest for another day, but the mother knows otherwise. She gives her babies a nudge and they quickly discover they can fly. In his brilliant book called Even Eagles Need a Push, David McNally says “Until they learned to soar, they would fail to understand the privilege it was to have been born an eagle. The push was the greatest gift she had to offer.”

For eagles, jumping off (or being pushed off) the edge is necessary for them to grow.

Steal That Car

Besides Jacky, who was my grade-school sweetheart, Melissa was my first girlfriend who I actually dated. We were both residents in a teen group home when we were 16 years old. Technically that means we lived together, but not in a way that would make your grandmother blush. I recall when I first asked her out:

“Would you like to go to a movie?”, I sheepishly asked, relying solely on the one single nerve propping up my confidence.

“Sure”, Melissa answered, so quickly that the single nerve of confidence doubled in size.

We went on a few dates. I was limited by the budget allowed by the minimal earnings of a 16-year-old, but we had fun. At least most of the time.

One evening we were hanging around downtown Hamilton. We were only 16, still 2 years away from legal drinking age at that time, but we knew what bars wouldn’t ask for ID. We stopped and had a few beers at the Running Pump. Melissa was feeling way too good, so we decided to head home. We walked a couple of blocks to our bus stop – just a little past an arcade place called Crystal Palace. Just as we were passing the place, we noticed a car running with no one in it. It was just sitting there waiting for the driver to return.

“Let’s take that car”, Melissa said.

“No way”, I quickly and easily answered.

“Come on, there is no one around.”

“Forget it, let’s just get the bus”, I said.

“What’s the matter? You too afraid to take the car?”.

“No. I just don’t want to. I’m taking the bus.”

Melissa reluctantly followed me to the bus stop, where we hopped on the bus a few minutes later.

It was a brief, but quiet bus ride – until the last block or two. While we were still on the bus, Melissa let out her frustration by punching me in the face. We didn’t go out much longer after that night.

I didn’t recognize it then, but Melissa put me on the edge – to decide whether or not steal that car. For whatever reason, I made the right choice to pull back and not take that leap off that edge.

Bungee Cord Effect

I have taken many ill-advised leaps off the edge. I was fortunate that in most of those times, there seemed to be a bungee cord tied to my ankles that sprang me back up to the edge, but not before cutting myself on the jagged rocks below.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, I quit drinking at least 100 times during my 20s and 30s, but not long after “quitting” – sometimes only hours – I would step off the edge again, with a keg of beer in tow. Eventually, that cord around my ankles would spring me back up to the edge, allowing me once again to choose to leap or retreat, but leap I usually did. This cycle on the edge would go on until the right moment came when I finally decided to step back.

Not every poorly-chosen leap off the edge comes with a bungee cord: a fatal accident while impaired, cheating on a loved one or jumping off of a bridge.

I have found that making the wrong choice to leap instead of stepping back is risky because I would never know if a bungee cord was there until after I jumped.

I was lucky.

The Paralysis of Fear

Sometimes the edge is the stepping stone to something great, but then fear becomes immobilizing. I should have jumped, but I didn’t, for whatever reason.

This is the part of “the edge” that has most hampered me in the past. For instance, I exaggerated the severity of a hand injury in grade 10 so I wouldn’t have to play in the semi-final football game. For another example, as a Ph.D. student, I finished all requirements except for the dissertation. I left the program without ever knowing what doors may have opened up if I had made that leap and completed the Ph.D.

Lastly, this blog and the book I am writing “started” many years ago. For many years I stood at the edge, looking at what was possible if I could jump from the edge and get my pen in motion. What got me to finally jump? Quite simply, it was my wife telling me in a not-so-gentle yet loving way “you’re becoming so ordinary.”

Rewards and Challenges

As I look back, more times than not, taking the leap was (or would have been) the right choice. Shedding fear at certain times would have served me better.

The edge holds so many mysteries – what will happen if we jump? Will we learn to soar like the eagle or will we crash on the rocks below?  Will we reap the rewards of taking the chances of flight or will we fall? For me, I just needed to get wiser about when to leap or retreat and I am still learning.

I am still a work in progress.