Beyond the Edge

There’s a line that’s in front of me, a blurry cord that lives in the hyphen of horizon. A razer blade thin line that I happen to spot in the light of my heart. I only notice this line because I smear red over my eyes for courage. I listen to something small that stirs within me. I trust this feeling to take a closer look at this razer blade line. I squint at it and see my life as it is in the present moment. I am unhappy. I doubt that the line before me has been murmuring to me ever since I was born, beckoning my hands to paint my hands on the walls and rattle rocks in a plastic Sprite bottle. I heard the small voice long ago and put it away in a box. I touched it every now and then, but never let this voice outside the wooden box. This voice now stirs violently inside me. It brews like an angry storm. I can’t sleep at night. I do not dream any more.

I begin to evaluate my feelings in how I want to live my life. The line I see is seemingly invisible. If I wanted to ignore it, I could. And I have many times. But there was something urgent about this line that caught my eye. This line is the unknown, the brink of our understanding and our comfortability.

I think as artists we tend to be fascinated with this line, this edge off the cliff into an abyss of stars and clouds and rushing water. There’s a sort of bridge between danger and safety being an artist. Dangerous, because we’re constantly challenged by ourselves (our biggest critics) and family (our second biggest critics) on whether we will ever “make enough money” or “make it big” as an artist.

As artists, we are dangerous. Dangerous, because we don’t always work conventional jobs. We’re explorers, creators, destroyers, dreamers, and makers. We are constantly remaking the world into beautiful visions that inspire, nurture, and water a universal language of love. That’s how I feel about music. That’s how I feel about jewelry design. That’s how I feel about poetry. It is dangerous to me, because I am shy. It is dangerous to me, because I’ve never been a performer with my voice. I’ve spent most my life living in books. I am shy, yet have so much to share and give to the world.

Beyond this thunderous cliff and past the belligerent storm before me, I see a glimmer of a rainbow. What beautiful colors that paint hope and beauty and rest after such a tumultuous vision. There’s a storm in my belly that demands me to sing, to speak poetry, to give back love to the universe with my voice. I desire that rainbow within me. I am inspired by monsoons and mountains. I have lived life off a cliff, fearing almost all of it.

It is time to let go of my fears in making mistakes and paint my worth up on an altar.

It is time to start skydiving.