Living on the edge

Of course, you should take the edge mentioned above more in a symbolic way. That gaping crevice, anyhow, can appear very deep. I am talking about those points in life where ways part and you alone must choose those road to follow. If this is the case, it’s usually not about singular decisions, but rather several ones the solutions of which are closely related to each other.

If the progress in your career is at stake, often relationship issues, too, are at hand. Then you feel like standing on the edge, but you don’t dare to dive into the water you can see underneath.

Diving, then, becomes a ground-breaking endeavour. Moreover, you don’t know what to expect at the bottom of the pit. You become yet more uneasy, peering carefully over the edge. But also you might feel intrigued by the new chances that might be waiting for you down there. In this way, it becomes a game of risk, balancing along the edge of the cliff.

This overly careful exercise will drain your energy. It will consume your time. And the more it carries on, the more difficultly it is going to get.

You are in a kind of interspace between two worlds: Your old, common environment and your potentially new one.

There is no way back. As soon as we have reached the edge, returning to your old life becomes no option. But the fear of the new one is still stronger. But at some stage, shoving your bum down that darn edge is the only way to go. Your body is pulsating from the mere thought of it. But unfortunately a jump requires full immersion. You can’t jump half-way down and cling to a branch on the cliff. At least I can conclude this from my own experience. When I decide to take my chances to solve one issue, something new will pop up somewhere else, trialling the decision made just a moment ago.

On top of that, I have my economic ties and duties.

Sometimes I think that drop wasn’t as sheer as expected. After every dive, you will be back on solid ground just a few metres below – like on a staircase. You run, take a leap and close your eyes. You prepare for a deep drop, immersing into cold water. But a few moments later, you are back on firm ground.

I think you need to dare to burn the bridges and destroy your boats after breaking the ground of a new continent.

Otherwise, you will linger on the edge for years, torn apart from the drive to stay and the urge to jump.

Living on the edge. Jumping succeeds in daydreams you can retreat to roam in. I might sound like my own grandpa, yet I believe some of you might just feel the same.

Together with a good friend, I was able to find a way to make scaling the abyss bearable. I began to conceive a new image, illustrating the abyss as valley between two peaks.

It isn’t that kind of abyss, threatening you to fall down a endless and steep descent. It’s more of a valley you can traverse on foot or with facilities such as a cable car or a bridge in order to reach the next peak.

In order to choose the right way to the next peak, it is crucial to assess the valley’s depth. It certainly is requires a lot of effort to cross the valley on foot. If the valley is too deep, the use of facilities can be a good option. Either way, investments need to be made.

As the hike on foot will require commitment and work, so will any other forms of support. One kind of support can be seeking a good friend’s help. If the support needs to be a bit more solid in order to provide a stronger feeling of safety, then your choice could be a coach who helps you assess an adequate route across the valley. Or you can find a way by finding literature on that topic.

The new concept of the valley on the way up makes the route bearable. It also helps to find a way, because you can be sure that yonder, there is scalable terrain, too. The worst case scenario consists of walking the way by foot. It might not be pleasant, yet it doesn’t mean your plans are going to fail.

Your Kopfrichter Christian

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