At The Forest Edge

What's Beyond The Threshold of Your Uncertainty

Skla-Na, Old Friend,

I have been thinking about edges lately. You know the kind, when you stand there with your breath caught, knowing that once you step forward, nothing will be the same.

I’ve known a few of those thresholds in my life: leaving home with more questions than answers, stepping into the first sweat lodge, even picking up the pen when the stories inside me would no longer stay quiet. Each time, the air at the edge felt sharp, alive, full of fear and wonder all tangled together.

Do you remember the story of the Ordinary Girl? Our grandmothers used to tell it when the nights grew long. She lived at the edge of the great forest. The villagers warned her not to enter… too dangerous, you won’t come back. But when the wind shifted, she would hear a song drifting out from the trees, calling her by a name she had half-forgotten.

One day, she pushed through the thorns. They tore her skin, left blood on her legs, but just beyond she found moss soft as a cradle, and blue star-flowers opening in the light. And there, waiting in that clearing, was the Radiant Woman… her own self returned, strong and beautiful in a way she had never believed possible.

Crossing an edge always costs us something, my friend. A little blood. A little tearing. But there is always a gift on the other side… a face, a strength, a song waiting to be remembered.

So I wonder about you tonight:
What edge are you standing at now?
And what song is calling you through the thorns?

I will keep this question close until we sit together again around the fire.

At the edge with you,
Your old friend,
Chivito