Sometimes I feel like life is learning to balance on lines. The line between awake and asleep. The line between angry and hurt. The line between vulnerability and victim mentality. The line between giving and receiving.
When we are young, these lines seem sharply defined, clear. We can clearly identify the villain and the hero. We know the difference between being mean and being kind (even if we sometimes choose to be mean.) But as we grow, we zoom in to realize that knife point sharpness is ever-expansive. That within the spaces of those lines is an infinite grey space to explore and become familiar with. That there’s really no such thing as a line, since you can just keep zooming in further and further until it floods your whole field of understanding.
Many a night I have spent in a meditative state between awake and asleep to manage my unending pain. Many a day I have spent exploring the mazes and mirrors about being a good ally to my neurodiverse friends. Many a moment have I spent in slow-motion figuring out how to word my response to a difficult question in a way that is empowering rather than harmful.
Perhaps it’s in my nature to be drawn to those edges, those spaces between, the landscapes in our culture and in our minds that are filled with fog and a little fuzzy at the edges. There can be an overwhelming feeling of unsettlement in these spaces, but there can also be beautiful discoveries and encouraging conversations. It seems that not too many people like to wander in these misty woods but I can usually recognize those that do. It seems to reflect in their eyes. It’s a depth of vision, a second sight, that is felt rather than seen. Ah yes, my brain whispers, this person is an edge-diver too.
Edge divers understand the spaces between life and death, the dance that carries us round-and-round through seasons and years and lifetimes. And this time of year, we are often gazing into the greyness beyond death. The leaves that wither with a blaze of orange glory signal to us the annual death of the foliage that embroiders the summer landscape. We see death not as a dead end but as a doorway… but to where varies greatly from person to person.
In the beautiful words of herbalist Asia Suler, “In the Celtic way of thinking our ancestors, those who came before us, do not exist in some far-off place. They live in a world that exists right alongside of us. A place that is only, truly, a hair’s width away. They inhabit the Otherworld. And when the gateways are opened, they can still reach out to touch us, soothe our wounds, smooth our hair.”
What a beautiful thought that the world of our ancestors could be layered just behind ours, like a double-exposed photograph or a murky reflection. Perhaps you can feel your ancestors in your bones, their echoes in your blood. No matter what your personal religious or spiritual beliefs are, there is some comfort in knowing that something comes after, even if it’s the knowledge that you will, someday, fade back into the earth from which we all came and that your stardust body will birth new life, whether that’s mushrooms or wildflowers, oak trees or moss.
I created these delicious autumn leaf hand pies in honor of that unending cycle. They are filled with paprika-sauced wild mushrooms, an ode to the fungi that helps to recycle energy and assist in the birthing process of new lifeforms. Making pastry dough in a variety of fall leaf colors showcases the beauty of transitions, while the filling is a delicious recipe based on my own ancestral recipes. These little savory pies are a comfort food reminder of the dance of cycles, the expansive greyness of the in-between, the fractalized beauty of being an Edge Diver.
Huge thanks to my Patrons that make sharing all of these lovely posts with you possible (without all of the pop-ups and ads that make browsing other blogs so annoying). If you’re feeling generous, you too can support the wonder with a monthly contribution of your choice. Even $1 helps a lot! Your donation will help to fund this blog as well as my surprise free events and gifts for strangers. Learn more about this program at the link below:
Huge thanks to my Patrons that make sharing all of these lovely posts with you possible (without all of the pop-ups and ads that make browsing other blogs so annoying). If you’re feeling generous, you too can support the wonder with a monthly contribution of your choice. Even $1 helps a lot! Your donation will help to fund this blog as well as my surprise free events and gifts for strangers. Learn more about this program at the link below:
