The Ledge (221)

It is alright to feel scared. To recognize and feel sad that something is different. Everything is fragile lately and I know I feel a loss. I feel a loss of a lot of things that together made me feel secure and safe. I was never afraid of the ledge. In fact, it was my favorite place to be. But that was my choice. Now that has been taken away and I feel so anxious and nervous. 

I always see the purpose, the landing zone. The beauty in the leap- but these days, the ground is crumbling and I seem to be stuck in a cycle of doubt and sadness. This too shall pass- I know. But, today, its heavy. I think a lot of us are feeling like this as educators.

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Ledge. This is a solid word. One syllable, five letters. It's sturdy. It evokes both optimism and fear. It brings to mind an image of a small child peeking over the edge of a counter top, seeing the cookie jar just out of reach. Curiosity and hunger. 

But, it also awakens a fear of falling, an abyss. The distant sound of crashing waves. Yet, it lures you to the precipice to look down. But, in the past there was always solid ground behind on which to balance and retreat. 

Edges tend to block or beckon on one side only- these days every direction seems to be crumbling, feels like a trap. Cornered. Directed. Instructed. The cookie jar is no longer a haven of sweet treats but a sealed container of dreams, of hopes, of grace.

The ledge is alluring. It is a place where you stand, toes afloat in the crisp, misty air. It is a resting spot, feet dangling over, sea and salt tickling their soles. It is a mantle on which we are the decor. Reminding us that below is turbulence, above us only sky.

We can run towards it, hoping to dive into the future unscathed, or we can halt just at the empty. Feeling a rush of pivot. 

But most, tend to walk towards its projection- unsure of the distance down, nervous of the landing. They take heed of the danger and prepare with a chute. This is the safety of some kind of certainty, some kind of normalcy, perspective.

Salty mist, cool breeze, sound of ocean churning feels familiar. But we back away from the strip, that sheer drop. We look for a better advantage, a spot from which we can safely jump. As educators we prepare to leap, but safety first.

The view can calm. It forces a pause. Lowers our inhibitions. Then the strong winds catch us off guard and push us forward. Once solid ridge is crumbling,  no longer protected on one side. The jut is sharpening.

The leap was refreshing, in the past. For the sand softened the landing. The water was a giant blanket, protective and comforting. But now, the sand has been eroded. 

Below are just giant rocks of sea weathering minerals. We stand on not solid, but fragile. The shake is cracking the foundation. It is dividing and conquering. Loss of confidence. Retreat restricted. No room for lift off. No place to go.

The cookie jar is empty. The view is obscured. The cavalcade is beginning and the only option is to sit, in the only spot left. 

Ledge is now a circumference around. I sob for a loss. I sob for options depleted. I sob for once weathering and erosion run amok, offering opportunities. But now smothering instead- and all that is left is to wait for deposition.

I the ruble. I the sand. I the salt and mist. No longer have a ledge on which to ponder. I sob at the sight of flat ground, darkened skies and abandoned cliffs. 

The brackets are closing and the trailblazers have found the long way down. They are geared up and descending on the beaches. Comfortable with the crowds.

The din surmounts the ocean bellow. It is deafening. 

The rim is thinning and I choose to hang on for the ride. The teeter is exciting. But the fall will be painful. I am aiming for the water, at least there I can navigate within the tumultuous waters of loss, and swim into deeper sea. That is another ledge after all.

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Things will never be the same. Growth is a good thing. But the journey can be scary. The removal of choice is scary. The fear of getting lost at sea is real. It is called anxiety. 

I always felt like I had an anchor in my profession. Something that stayed fluid and consistent. But that has been removed. It feels like a giant tidal wave, swallowing, pushing me downward.

But, here, in the depths, there is bioluminescence, different types of creatures great and small. 

There are reefs and caves. 

New ledges to stand upon. 

I am not afraid of the dark. I am not afraid of change, I am not afraid to fail. 

I just feel a loss of the one ledge I felt would never crumble. But, talking about anxiety, allowing yourself to feel sad and angry. That is the only way to calm the turbulence so the new view, the new residence, can become manageable and navigable.