Our family had a wonderful vacation on the 
east coast in mid-August and I learned something about them and myself. They love edges. Yup they walk right up to them and look over. Could be the rail of a boat, a look out (or look “off “depending upon where you are) over the Atlantic Ocean, or a hiking path along the Cabot Trail. My husband and my son go straight to the edge. No worries. No fears. Just a need to see as much as they can from the edge.
I, on the other hand, am not that kind of edge person. I’m genuinely afraid of heights and I approach edges (even those with stout barriers) with caution and baby steps. I sometimes envy my men and their openness to the edge. I count myself brave when I stand beside them, but it doesn’t always last and there are times when I have to turn back or block my view of the sea and the cliffs and remember to breathe as we drive along a switchback in the Cape Breton Highlands.
Do I feel a desperate need to change my approach to edges? No, not really. I have my small conquests and the view is just fine a few steps back. I have my own edges that I inhabit, that lead me to take risks, change jobs, approach editors, stand in front of people and speak or lead a group, and put my writing ‘out there’ to be reviewed and critiqued by others. I’ve walked to many in the past and I intend to keep on doing so. I embrace those edges with a blend of fear and anticipation in varying proportions. Those edges are enough for me.
Are you an edge person? What kind of edges do you inhabit?