5.
THE CALL TO CROSS THE EDGE

Have you ever sensed something rising up from deep within yourself, a slow rumble of dissatisfaction with the status quo? This can push through the avoidance, urging us to follow the unknown. American mythologist Joseph Campbell depicts this sense of longing as a “call,” the moment when we realize that life as it is cannot continue in the same way. Whether we like it or not, we must face the beginnings of change and cross the edge into the unknown.

When London-based coach Aboodi Shabi heard the “call” for change, he felt that he could no longer ignore or resist it. A few years ago, after several happy years living in central London, he began to realize that he was missing something – the quiet and peace of the West Country that he had left behind some years ago. At first, he just accepted this as a compromise he was willing to make. Living in the heart of London made sense in many ways, so he was ready to accept the price he had to pay. But whenever he spent time in the countryside, he would feel pangs of longing and nostalgia for nature. For a while, he was able to put them to one side and get on with his normal life.

However, things changed one spring when he went on a retreat in Italy. He had time and space to really listen and he rested and immersed himself in the beauty of spring in the Italian countryside, spending his days in the warm sunshine, listening to birds singing, and walking in the forest. In the evenings, reading by an open fire, he started to realize that he could no longer ignore the call.

“I immediately felt a lot of confusion. How could I leave London? Where would I go? How would I set about making the changes? My mind went to all the usual places. I tried to figure out ‘the solution’ and struggled with the sense of uncertainty and the knowledge that there would be no easy answers. However, instead of trying to work it all out by myself, I called one of my friends in London to discuss my dilemma. His advice was challenging: ‘it’s not up to you to figure it out – you can’t be in charge of how life unfolds’.”

Aboodi returned to London, both excited and disturbed. He was aware now that life wouldn’t just go on as before. Even though nothing had changed, he was already entering a transition phase. He tried to put his friend’s advice into practice and whenever he got caught in trying to fathom out what to do, or worrying about how he would reconcile what felt like opposite parts of himself, he would try to just meditate, or go for a walk or a bike ride. One of the things he found especially helpful was realizing that whilst he didn’t know how the path would unfold, he would know the answer in 10 or 15 years’ time. Meanwhile he decided that he could enjoy the process of finding out what he needed to know. Whilst that didn’t necessarily make the situation any easier, it did open up a mood of curiosity and wonder to accompany the uncertainty and disruption that he was experiencing.

Nearly two years later, Aboodi found a temporary resting station along the journey. He sold his flat in central London and moved into rented accommodation near the woods in a quiet North London suburb.

“In some ways, life is more unsettled than it was before. New challenges have arisen. My work life is changing, partly because I’ve realized that I no longer want to travel as much as I used to. My landlord comes back next year and I will have to move again, and property prices are rising fast. But what I am increasingly aware of, in the midst of all the unsettledness, is that I am becoming more settled. I am more at peace with Not Knowing. My intermittent meditation practice has become a daily habit. I walk or run in the woods near my house most days, and I have started regular yoga classes. I’m still no nearer to figuring out what to do, but the practices are supporting me in staying more serene as I tread the path of the unknown.”

As we become aware of our default reactions at the edge, we can deliberately choose to leave them behind and cultivate new skills and capabilities – conscious ways of playing at the edge. Like the Olympic gymnast, we need to practise these approaches to ensure that when the nerves and uncomfortable feelings hit us, we don’t revert to bad habits but rather stay open to the many possibilities that lie ahead.

Diana: Just before I resigned from a job I felt an internal tension that was saying on the one hand “tread carefully, hold back,” while on the other there was a curiosity that was nudging me forward. “I wonder what’s around the corner? Should I keep going? The tension is palpable... If I go beyond the initial, automatic reaction of fear, if I stay with the discomfort, the panic, the knot in the stomach, as I look down from the edge, into the abyss, I can sense an invitation, a gentle beckoning, a slight pull to the unknown. If I allow those feelings to settle, I discover a sense of excitement. This is what those explorers venturing into unknown territory, no longer on the map, must have been feeling – a mixture of dread and excitement. A tug of war between the head and the heart. A sense of aliveness, where all the senses are engaged fully.”

We have made it this far. Are we ready for the next part of the journey – playing at the edge and dipping our toes into the uncharted waters of the unknown? Perhaps even venturing further than we’ve ever ventured before... Possibility and learning are just around the corner.

As poet David Whyte encourages in his poem Finisterre, let’s
“... abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water’s edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves.”