Edges
For me, 2021, is about edges… noticing edges, finding new edges, playing in and around edges, savoring edges, expanding edges, sinking into edges, amplifying edges, and being present to allow and learn from edges wherever they emerge.
A significant part of a noticing practice includes a focus on what takes place between what’s there and what’s not there—this expansive, unlimited space is where we find the edges.
I’ve decided to focus on this space in 2021, for myself, my writing, my business, my relationships—in every small interaction with another person, with every small object I hold, through each small idea that finds its way through me to share with others.
I believe that the whole of 2021 is an expansive between-space inviting us to show up and play. What might happen when we tap into the magnitude of unlimitedness found in the bounty of edges everywhere in our lives?
I’m jumping into this year of edges by sharing a poem that I wrote this morning. I was doing my morning pencil writing and it appeared. Do I think it’s a good poem? No. Do I want to share it? Not really. Am I sharing it anyway? Yes.
Part of my personal journey with edges includes noticing and jumping into even the ones I often walk around (like the space between my inner critic and loving acceptance). I’m going to try (essay) and playfully re-see (revise) all sorts of things this year, both in my writing and my life… I wonder what they will be. I wonder what yours will be, too!
Love, Melissa
If you’d like to talk about edges or slowness or processes for growing a practice of noticing for your life, your family, or your work…
OR
If you’d like some guidance in developing expansive, deep-learning products or services for others…
please contact me:
melissa (at) reimaginingproject (.) com
Edges poem by Melissa Butler
Rooftop meets sky
Sky meets sea
Indian meets Atlantic.
Morning light
Poetry or prose
Cold before cozy
Look up and it’s gone.
My mind holds on
Until it doesn’t—
Stillness sinks,
Falls into tumble.
A bumble bee hovers before it descends
Dew is a drop before it goes—
Or is it after?
Faintness of prints or
Maybe a glimpse.
To wonder is to play with empty—
Stretch it out,
Live in it,
Try not to fill it up.
