On the edge

Of what, I have no clue

I feel like I’m on the edge. Not “on edge” but on the edge. Of something. Of what, I don’t know. It’s anticipatory, awaiting, dreaded, a bit nervous, excited, fearful, curious, joyous, gratified...all at the same time. And yet none of them.

Analogies might be:

- standing at the end of the high diving board with my toes over the edge, arms raised high, muscles taut and leaning ever so slightly forward and my centre of gravity shifts just that wee bit.....

- sitting down to the long foreseen exam, pencils sharpened, new batteries in the calculator, butt comfy in the chair, watching the clock tick down the seconds to the start and then the thunk of the little hand hitting 12 and the proctor takes a breath to say.....

- waiting to hear about the results of the biggest damn job interview of my life/application for a mortgage on the greatest house on the best property in the loveliest area, the phone is ringing, I see the number displayed and pick up the receiver and take a breath to say hello.....

- high above the earth, holding onto the plane’s wing struts with one foot on the step, hearing nothing but the roar of the wind in my helmet, watching the jumpmaster’s hand chop down as his mouth goes round in an unheard “GO” and my hands loosen their grip as I pull my foot off the step and.....

On the edge of...something...about to happen? Come? Be done? Go wrong? Go right? Who knows.

Then there is that moment. That infinitesimally small period between the being on the edge of and the actual happening/coming/being done/resolving where time stands still and hours days weeks go by and nothing and everything take place and it’s chaotically calm in a void.

When the coffee halts in mid-pour just above the cup. When the raindrop has splashed into the puddle and the flying droplets are hung in mid-flight. When the bullet stops in mid-air. No sound. No movement.

And it is so calm. Even the pause between my heartbeats lasts so long I forgot the first one happened and the next will never come. My breath is as the slightest breeze I can only imagine blowing.

This is that moment of being committed. There’s no going back. Once the centre of gravity shifts in that instant, that’s it...the moment is over and time starts back up. The proctor has said Begin. My hands let go and I fly. Committed.

That’s also a time of great calmness. The days weeks months of training learning reading cramming practicing and getting it right or wrong then right again over and over until it’s so instilled and ingrained that it becomes second nature and a part of me the will never ever be forgotten or tainted with time. This is when the ego steps back and an almost automaton steps in, when something is just so damn natural that it gets done without the brain getting in the way, it just happens of it’s own accord because it was meant to be. And it’s all good.

When I settle into the exam and find that damn I know this stuff and I ace it. When the positive results come about the interview/mortgage and the first thought is “I knew that”. When my body floats in mid-air and I’m flying and excited and breathless with exhileration and laughing and crying and singing because the view from up here in the silence in the clouds is just so damn beautiful and HOLY CRAP I’M FLYING!!!

I’m not there yet. Not the realizing the results of so much preparation and the gratification and joy of completion. And not even the “committed” part, the “oh fuck” part where I’m still dreading fearing awaiting excited but also surrendering and just being because I know it’s gonna happen and there’s damn-all I can do about it anyway because it’s that moment in time where there is no time. Yeah, I’m not there yet.

I’m still on the edge. Waiting. Dreading, eager, awaiting, fearing, excited, curious and nervous. And calm. It’s just...the edge.