The same stream of life/ that runs through the world/ runs through my veins.

-Rabindranath Tagore

“If you don’t jump, you will be stuck. FOREVER!” proclaimed my Kiwi tour guide. He looked directly into my eyes. He stared at my soul. We were outside of Queenstown, New Zealand, at AJ Hackett Bungee at the Kawarau River Bridge, arguably the home of bungee jumping. I was there to find my edge. The bridge is about 40 meters (roughly 154 feet) above the river. I watched several people jump. Despite my initial bravado, I quickly realized I would not be jumping. I was scared to death. I stood there holding a small section of bungee cord in my hand with a steel resolve and planted feet. I was not going to jump, even if my future would be damned.

It has been a long time since I was in New Zealand. I have been thinking about my tour guide’s prediction, what it means to be stuck, what it means to acknowledge fear, and how we embrace fear. I have been thinking about finding my edge. What does it mean to walk to an edge and back down? Is it failure or acceptance? Is it weakness or strength? Is it paralysis or wisdom?

Why I Did Not Jump

• Heights and drops have scared the hell out of me my entire life. 
• I am dubious of peer pressure and jumping off bridges. 
• The bungee cord was not reassuring when I took a closer look. 
• The total fear of the jumpers, before, during, and after their jumps, was not comforting. 
• Somewhere along the way, I realized I did not have to jump to prove anything.

Why I Am Not Stuck

• I know the difference between being scared and being stuck. 
• I let fear ride shotgun, but I keep the wheel. 
• I listen to my still small voice. 
• I am curious. 
• I celebrate the beginner’s mind.

To My Tour Guide

If I could talk with my tour guide today, I would tell him a few things. I have no regrets. I would not jump today, either. Over the years, I have found different challenges to accept. My edge is different. I finished the book we discussed while drinking beer under the Southern Cross. I quit my job, got married, and bought a house. I am fully living life’s hot/cold test—moving to the hot as best I can. I am not stuck.

My Edge

What does finding an edge mean? Does it have to look like bungee jumping? Does it have to be so outwardly extreme? Can it look like intimacy? Can it look like putting one foot before the other amid crises? Is an edge about being willing to take risks, whether the risk be physical, spiritual, intellectual, or emotional? Is an edge about ease, peace, strength, and even joy during a test?

I write this to defend everyone who walks to an edge and retreats. For those who struggle to make inches of progress in finding their edge, This is for people who have no desire to jump from planes, scale tall buildings, or climb Kilimanjaro but are fearless in their approach to life. For the moments when I fight like hell to make things happen and for the moments when I let go. Discernment seems edgy. Vulnerability seems edgy. I have learned that my edge looks more like trying to be present and breathe every day than jumping off the Kawarau Bridge.