Come to the Edge

Before writing this blog post, I was sitting on my bed with a pounding headache and debating whether or not I should take some Advil before attempting to write something coherent.  I felt impressed during so many moments today that I felt I had to write at least one of those thoughts tonight.  Lucky for you I took some Advil.  And here you go:  

My mother emailed me several months ago the following poem from a meeting she attended.  But eeks! I didn't read the notes until a few days ago.  The timing was quite incredible because the poem couldn't be more poignant if I had read it any earlier.

"Come to the Edge" by Christopher Logue

Come to the edge.

We might fall.

Come to the edge.

It's too high!

Come to the edge.

And they came,

and we pushed,

And they flew.

Whenever I take a chance, go out on a limb, or make an act of faith, I hope and pray that my intuition or my promptings will be validated by bringing about something better.  I debate whether the inconvenience, discomfort or heartache will be worth the reward.  I think that I am completely justified in my hope for something better.  We can and should always hope for something better--as long as it is not a vain hope (I have many thoughts and maybe even a paper on this subject).  We should hope for something and then do all we can to achieve our desires.  In the simple poem, they hoped to not fall and yet they still came to the edge. 

A few weeks ago, I went to the edge.  Last week and this week I am flying.  Boom baby.  I am so blessed. 

My birthday is next week. I'm a little afraid that this week will be so great and then the start of my 25th year will not be as great.  I will hope for better things and we shall see what events unfold. 

beck