On The Verge—
I don’t know what life is like NOT being on the verge. On the verge is my home. Comfortably uncomfortable. I can’t say at what point I realized that anything worthwhile would require me being on the verge. On the verge of crazy, on the verge of kindness, on the verge of wisdom, on the verge of truth.
On the verge of life.
Comfortable with change, comfortable with new—comfortable with life.
These are all qualities I've noticed in my fellow Verge-ettes.
Living your truth—now that is truly verge. I think it's what we're all doing one way or another in this community. Even our truth isn’t exclusive—it's inclusive. Kindly pointing out crap-ola? It's an art—a verge art. If it stinks, it must be crap-ola, so why not say it?
But kindly ignoring crap-ola is something we're good at, too. (Not to mention the wisdom to know what is truth and what is crap.)
The courage to encourage is a true verge art.
Speaking our dreams out loud. That is a perfected verge art.
Our diversity—in experience, opinions, and perspectives—makes us a rare bird. Which is not to say we don’t ever ruffle each other's feathers, but rather we perfect another verge art doing so: honoring all experiences.
Broken hearts, whole hearts, mending hearts ... the verge welcomes and honors them all.
Bring your heart to the verge. I’ll meet you there. We'll be comfortable with uncomfortable together.
Oh Spa Girl, I'll meet you there too! So fantastic - I have a big smile on my face and in my heart too - uncomfortable, comfortable - that is truly it. Thank you for teaching me just by being you, how to recognize and call it when I smell that stinky crap-ola!! xoxo
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