A Letter For Out Onto The Ledge

And how to come back safely (I think)

I’ve long been fascinated with artists’ and creative people’s ability to push the envelope, expand the boundary, travel into parts unknown, and explore. I wonder to myself, “How do they do it?” “What’s it like out there?” “Aren’t they scared?” “What if they get lost and never come back?” “What do they do when they are there?”

So many questions.

It makes me so curious.

There is an electricity to it. A resonant frequency.

I’ve fallen in love with these people and their creativity many times. Ram Dass says that “love is when something or someone allows you to access the part of you that is love.” Or something like that.

There is something about how, when I catch that feeling and the curiosity kicks in and I submerse myself into it, that can access that place. It starts to flow through me like a rhythmic river into a delta. And that feeling ignites in me the desire to be creative. To walk myself out onto the ledge.

Out into the unknown space to explore it on my own, expand my boundaries, and push my limits.

And see what I find

OUT THERE.

Through my intense desire to experience the works of these types of people and learn all that I can about them, I’ve realized that they are able to take what they find and communicate it in a way so unique to them that it takes form and is ushered into this reality that we all share an experience in.

This is no small task. Going out onto the ledge and trying to bring stuff back with you that you find meaningful and giving it form is very, very hard. It’s hard work. It takes a lot of discipline and suffering, because the farther and more often you go out there, the forces at play become stronger and stronger.

You don’t know what you’re going to find out there either. It’s not always a guarantee that you’ll find something good or be able to communicate it correctly so that it takes the right form.

Even when it takes the seemingly right form, you don’t really know whether you’ll be able to work with it and distribute it out and into reality in a way that resonates with others. That part takes so much courage it’s… crazy. I have a hard time summoning that much courage. I think most people do (or at least that’s what I tell myself to not feel so cowardly).

Yet I’m still compelled, pulled in by the gravitational force of that mass — the creator and their creations. Willing to take on the risks that come with being an explorer of the unknown.

Daring enough to go out onto the ledge and look over it, because the risk is great but so is the reward. The great and fundamental paradox.

I’ve seen it, experienced it. Sometimes in myself but also through the types of people that I’m talking about. Those people, they don’t always make it back. Some figure it out and find a way to keep coming back, seemingly through grace and gratitude and balance. They are able to keep in harmony, ascending in an upward spiral so that you can see and feel their aura.

Some do not. Some go too far, where the slope of the ledge gets so steep that they fall all the way out and leave this reality. Some fall down so far and get stuck, not ever able to quite get back to a clear view of reality. It becomes distorted and fractured. Because of this, they can’t feel that feeling anymore or in the same way. They become distant to it. The place inside themselves where they access love becomes small and hard to find.

Maybe that’s where my fear comes from, the worry that that will be my fate. My hope is that being aware of it and conscious to it is a good balance. Restraining myself from judgment and attachment along the way (as best that I can).

The more I’m able to do that, the better I’ll get at it. That seems to be the way to do it. Anyways.

With love and deep appreciation,
Andrew