The View From The Edge



I was pushed to the brink, at the edge of the precipice wondering what would happen next.


I know that in this very question, I am seeking both solace and growth. I am looking for compassion and transcendence, longing for the wisdom to understand what I should do. Or at least a context in which to be.


But all I feel is lost.


A crisis of faith?


I know I have to trust that, at some point, I will be able to make sense of it all, but in this very moment, I am tired, and my faith feels shattered and scattered.


Faith—a complete trust of confidence in someone or something. Is that even possible?


The only thing I could think of was the Kabbalist story of the birthday of the world. A story I first heard told by Mary Doria Russell and then again by Rachel Naomi Remen:


In the beginning, there was only the holy darkness, the Ein Sof, the source of life. And then, in the course of history, at a moment in time, this world, the world of a thousand thousand things, emerged from the heart of the holy darkness as a great ray of light.


And then, the vessels containing the light of the world, the wholeness of the world, broke. And the wholeness of the world, the light of the world, were scattered into a thousand thousand fragments of light. And they fell into all events and all people, where they remain deeply hidden until this very day.


We are here because we are born with the capacity to find the hidden light in all events and all people, to lift it up and make it visible once again, and thereby to restore the innate wholeness of the world. We heal the world one heart at a time. And this task is called “tikkun olam,” in Hebrew — “restoring the world.”


Faith, by finding the hidden light in all people and events and making it visible again, we can restore the world, and maybe ourselves.


Standing at the edge, I can see it. I can take it all in. I can see the life that has lived through me, the people that I have touched and have touched me, and the events that have changed my life.


The paths we choose are, at times, heartbreaking. But maybe it’s the very cracks and fractures we endure along the way that let the light in all of us shine, making us visible to ourselves and to others, lighting our way.


Standing at the edge, I take stock of my life. Clearly, I need to leave the past behind. Standing here, stationary and fearful, does me no good. I need to find my light, the light that connects me, heals me, and allows me to move on.


Move on? There is only one way to move on—a leap of faith. It’s time for me to fly, trusting my inner light and letting it shine. I’m not even sure what it means—but I guess I’ll be figuring that out.


Stay tuned …


Robin

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