you are simply dizzy with freedom.
there is also a kind of magic that exists at edges and high places, at the borders and the spaces between things— a magic that demands a ceremony be made of crossing over.
dear little voice,
i have been becoming so much human lately. it is very round. very circular.
there are peach trees and roosters and the smog is blue and i am becoming so much human.
in doing this, i have realised that it necessarily happens on many occasions that a great edge forms its place inside of us. as one can imagine, edges are very large and high places, and can take up so much space in what is a comparatively humble human body that they demand significant attention.
only standing at these edges, quite high up, perhaps a little dizzy and very much available to perspective, do we locate the lucid realisation that, despite our smallness, we could have all we have ever wanted— and suddenly nothing is more unbearable.
Andrew Pershin, cliff
an edge is a three thousand mile word: a place that is at once a sight of possibility and a sight of terror: an expanse to land on and an abyss to fall helplessly into: an edge is the accumulation of the vast, explosive strata of our souls— its finite materials: its infinite combustibility, fragile exhalations and unpredictable heat; occasionally dubious and often powerful, but always ready for use by any of us who are bold and brave enough to dare to dig so deep.
The edge of Buda Castle overlooking the Danube River, Budapest, Hungry: National Geographic.
and, of course— we have our necessary limits.
trees do not become entangled with clouds, birds do not burn their talons on hot stars, and, to my knowledge, beetles do not often become acquainted with the volcanic centre of our planet.
and yet there are still many little voices who continue to hurry through their own souls, heads down, avoiding any potential precipice or shaky edge; content if not eager to stay as close to the ground that they know well as possible— as though the laws of nature and the universe may at any time make a funny exception only of them.
and this is a comfortable place.
and it remains very safe.
so it is a very good place, really
— if you don’t really care for views.
View of Makkah from Mount Thor, unknown photographer.
these edges are what Edmund Burke meant when he wrote of the sublime: or, that which simultaneously inspires and terrorises us:
The passion caused by the great and the sublime in nature, when those causes operate most powerfully, is Astonishment; and astonishment is that state of the soul, in which all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror.
these edges are what we feel when we read Sartre’s words: I am literally nothing beyond what I decide to be.
these edges are the places that spring from our human condition of radical freedom that both Heidegger and Kierkegaard called anxiety— or in French, l’angoisse: the angst of potential; the anxiety of being entirely at the violence and mercy of ourselves.
quite simply: standing on an edge, you are not merely anxious, little voice.
you are dizzy with freedom.
Freedom and Time in the Concept of Kierkegaard’s Anxiety, DJ Humbert
but there is also a kind of magic that exists at edge, at the borders and the spaces between things— a magic that demands a ceremony be made of crossing over. a ceremony that insists on transformation.
whether a little voice chooses to leap or remain close to the ground, coming into contact with these thresholds between who we are and who we can be is inevitable. how we encounter them— and any new change in our lives— is judged only by the degree of care that exists in our crossing.
there is— as always, little voice— a little world tucked in that word threshhold, which springs as green as from seed from the Old Germanic threshing— or, to separate the grain from the husk.
in this way, little voice, thresholds demand of us our attention, devotion, and a careful— if not even sometimes gently critical— eye. these are electric places that encompass the mystery and the magic of being alive: that you are simply larger, more beautiful than you thought:
joy is not a mere loveliness.
it is far too interesting to be only that.
instead, it is a much more substantial and infinitely more significant state of becoming.
when we cross a threshold, or teeter on an edge, if we do so worthily, we are doing so with a deep respect for everything we know we can be for others and for ourselves— in other words, with an ear carefully to the little voice within us that insists: yes, we can be more beautiful, yes, we can be more brave, yes, we can be more kind. this does not mean that we are not these things— no, this means that we can be even more of what we are. and that we should be more of what we are: because what we are is larger, and more beautiful than we had once thought.
every edge that builds its clamorous and great self within you also creates a threshold that will demand all of your capacity to bear witness to it. and every witnessing will create a threshold that will take all of you to move through.
and if you are particularly brave, every day can be an edge.
this is what makes your days so significant and so beautiful.
this is that magic and mystery, little voice.
this is what it means to be alive.
Without freedom, what we call a person does not exist.
- Octavio Paz, The Double Flame: Essays
but still we are sitting on our edges and we are weeping with one another.
if we are lucky, we have fulfilled our every other need, and it seems now that we are met with nothing but evidence of our own significance.
our edges, after all, remind us of the critical importance of our lives: of the scale of our choices, of the impact of even our slightest touches. more than this, they remind us of the importance of succeeding to live.
in other words: they remind us that we are in the process of becoming something, and that we are responsible to that process every day—of becoming something that is either more or less than what we already are:
“What is higher in yourself? That way of thinking about the question is the beginning of the answer — because it involves a real idea which has been handed down to humanity over thousands of years… At such a point you yourself will find the answer — not as a thought, but as an experience.”
~ Jacob Needleman, Essential Questions
A woman surveys a treacherous mountain pass in the Pyrenees of France, 1956, Justin Locke, National Geographic
it is true that we are creatures who have never been more terrifyingly and singularly aware of our own capacity for goodness than we are now. there is both dignity and difficulty in this— but only one reasonable response.
it is a response as familiar as bread and as always as sky: dizzy with freedom, your only task at the threshold is simply to cross it carefully, and to be responsible for the degree of the crazed and committed care you choose to walk with:
it is for this reason that we call the largest part of ourselves the highest self: it is the part of ourselves that stands at this edge.
“An angel … embraced me and whispered through my whole body: “Don’t be ashamed of being human, be proud! Inside you vault opens behind vault endlessly. You will never be complete, that’s how it’s meant to be.””
~ Tomas Tranströmer, translated by Robert Bly from “Romanesque Arches” in The half-finished heaven: the best poems of Tomas Tranströmer (Graywolf Press, Oct 1, 2001)
some time ago, the great Catalonian poet Verdaguer wrote to another little voice of the dizziness of freedom:
“confusion is a sign of vast embracing. don’t be anxious about it.”
it does seem to me, little voice, that although perhaps this may be too simple, like many simple things it reveals mile-vast complexities: in this instance, that an edge is not only a wind-thrashed precipice crumbling at your the first touch of a foot, but a slice of what is a fantastically marvellous and infinitely unpredictable universe inside of you: a universe of tremendous ranges of time and space, of capacities for sudden motions and startling intimations of beauty and affection, of the rigorous vibration of goodness and of grace and of beauty, of the power for all you embrace and create, for the sharp marrow of attention and care, of all the scope and every atom of what is inside of you— and that this complicated little machine is yours with a heart growing down into it and back out of it like a tree.
standing on any edge is a balancing act between reality and longing. when acknowledged, it becomes all at once an intense, enduring, and sublime presence inside of you. like all sublime things, it must be both terrifying and beautiful.
when i ask you to approach your thresholds, i ask you because they are worthy of being approached. when i say they are worthy of being approached, i say this because they contain as much of you as any place closer to the ground does.
and i say this because you are larger, you are better than you thought.
love,
ars poetica.
little voice: it is my belief that Poetry is a human birthright. my work will always be completely free, and takes considerable Time and Love to give to you throughout the week. if it has brought you Joy, consider buying me a book so that I may continue to tuck Words in your pocket:
Interesting start - by showing simplicity early and then complexity later on.
I always love your words so much.
If you ever feel moved to respond to my interview questions about the relationship between art and mental health in answers of poetry/quotes/your style, I'd love to share that work.
Zero pressure. Just if it feels right as something that adds to your creative process.
https://createmefree.substack.com/p/opportunities-for-create-collaboration