The Edge

The Edge

Our journey of recovery is undeniably an edge⎯an edge full of pain, peril and promise.

When our own bodies present illness or mortality, we reckon with our vulnerability. When our memories are overwhelming, we must grapple with the past as we grow into the present.  Easier said than done.

When we lose people or animals or those we love because of death or trauma, it can feel like we have toppled to the edge of the world.  Grief is the process that we need not rush or push away from.

When we are overcome with fear or rage or toxic hatred, we can come to the edge of our ground, our true center.  We can lose power.  We may lose stability.  We might lose the certainty that we’ve carefully crafted to stay safe.

Then there are edges that may not be recognized as edges at all. The edge of work and commitment can have steep shadow cliffs: addiction, hyper-focus at the expense of others, hardness of heart.

The edge of love, compassion and connection can degenerate into over-investment, burnout, resentment or codependence. 

The edge of having to face our own blindness and mistakes, when they are made known to us, can challenge our hard work of recovery and can bring us down with old inward messages from past neglect or abuse.

We come to this dangerous edge when we experience or even passively contribute to violence, disrespect, or deceit. Shame is often on this cliff, and it can be dangerous⎯especially if we have betrayed or failed another ourselves. 

We cannot always fix the situation. 

But here is the greatest edge: to honor the attempt to repair and whatever response we get, without succumbing to the toxicity of self-contempt if it doesn't succeed.  

We do the best we can with the other and ourselves. It takes courage and tender self-regard, which is quite different from self-pity. We may not see the results at first, or ever.  But it is a critical edge in healing.  The edge of any failure can be a worthy gift. And goodness, as humans, we may fail in so many ways in life. 

We practice. We rest. We practice again. We forgive ourselves with honesty, humor, grace...and some respect for ourselves and the struggle. When we stand at the edge, we are at the threshold of change, whether we like it or not.  

This edge is where we grow. Where possibility for compassion and kindness lie--and even joy.

Life is uncertain.  There is no doubt about that. 

Recovery and the edge of growth are about setting ourselves free.   

Thankfully, it is a lifelong process.

-Mikele Rauch

Sometimes...

Where there was something and suddenly wasn’t,   
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.   
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,   
only the I didn't do   
crackle after the blazing dies.

Naomi Shihab Nye

Words Under the Words

We cannot change the weather

We  cannot change  the reality of pain or uncertainty.

It seems we can hardly change ourselves.

As a survivor, you may look through the tunnel of recovery,  awake to it all.   

You can feel alone in the struggle.

But imagine an experience that could go beyond the words of your story to forge a process of trust where you can be safely held and sustained.  

Imagine a place where the unsayable is heard, and that which has been invisible to others is seen.  

Imagine a way to be safe enough to be truly yourself as you share your story and your journey.

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In Memory: Tyre Nichols, Monterey Park, & Half Moon Bay

In Memory 

 It seems we cannot change circumstances, politics, and the brutal reality of lethal violence.

It seems we can hardly change ourselves.

Sometimes, no matter how hard we have fought for justice, we witness again and again, that humans can and will do to others and to their own--the unthinkable.

What do we do with the rage that we hold, if it seems that bad guys continue to harm, and the innocent continue to suffer?

What do we do with the profoundly complex and intractable overlay of internalized racism and the culture of brutality that only entrenches itself with each incident.

Why can't we heal our family of humans, our nation of violence, much less our own failures within and without?

We cannot quiet our fury, our grief, our sense of helplessness in the face of another senseless death, or our own relentless memories. 

A survivor looks at this through the tunnel of recovery, awake to it all.   The work makes us more alive in the face of our own situation, and perhaps more acutely--those who are suffering, stuck or helpless like us. 

 But there are those we do not like or know--perhaps the ones who harmed or continue to harm. They too are suffering and stuck.  

Words alone do not take away this pain or further a resolve to change the system or ourselves.

We grieve together.  We do so with resolve and fierce tenderness.

But we cannot look away from any of this.  

2023

2023

We are, all of us, together standing in the dark, waiting to hear the heartbeat of a new beginning.  Waiting to find our voice and become the people who our ancestors promised we would become.[1]     
-Patty Krawec, Anishinaabe Reserve

I greet you today, at the start of 2023, with a heart full of promise and resolve.

If you are reading this, you may be on a journey with no name or clear path when you look to the coming year.  No matter how you inhabit your current body or the lineage you find yourselves, there is  much in your DNA that makes up the richness of who you are.  We each hold a particular ancestral bundle from many sources, cultures, and histories.  Our individual life bundle holds the trauma and wounding, the progress and wisdom, that has been accumulated over thousands of years.

Think of the people in your life, those alive and those dead, who inhabit your heart¾who have depleted or nourished you¾directly or as ancestors.  Some have been stuck in their own particular toxic concoctions.  You could not always fix what or who was present in your life, but you can work to change the responses that help you be whole and true to yourself. And it may be easier said than done to find a way to detach from loyalty to poisonous relationships or inner voices that harm you. Make an alliance with darkness and use it as a nutrient for the future. The greatest challenge and gift as you make your way forward are to have some compassion for this challenge and the process.

Respect your own struggle and movement as you turn and return to yourself. This is not easy, especially for survivors who have been abused or neglected.  We know the world is struggling and many are dancing with their eyes shut and their hearts closed. You may need to look to the potential of a kinder vision with fresh resources and habits of connection, finding other ways to give and receive. Honor and find those in your life who were or are doing the work of change and possibility, even if imperfectly. We will all do better together.

Consider deeply who you are, respecting how far you have come this time around. Your struggle is compost for what is ahead, and there is immense potential in the rich soil of your life. However you do it, I invite you to write or draw or sing your own song today:  tracking your grief and hope, your losses and possibilities.  Remember, you are not alone in this.

We as humans are kin, perhaps more than we may ever realize. 

Happy New Year!

Mikele Rauch
Taking Back Ourselves

[1] Krawec, Patty.  (2022Becoming Kin: An Indigenous Call to Unforgetting the Past and Reimagining Our Future.