Thursday, August 21, 2008

Vet on the edge of WHAT?

Well, that varies.

In a general way, I'm on the edge of the North American continent and the continental United States. More specifically, I live on the edge of a lake AND on the edge of a wetlands (the lake and the marsh being separated by a small street, all three of which my property abuts). Lots of people will tell you I'm on the edge of losing my grip on my sanity, my temper, my sense of decorum, and/or any hope of propriety whatsoever. It's not completely unheard of that I'm on the edge of being late for work due to some unexpected hazard (such as having a moose in my driveway, or having the doors of my truck freeze shut overnight, or road conditions ranging from deep snow to cement-like drifts to icy to Oh My God, Do I Have To Drive On THAT?) Being as how I live pretty far north, we ALL spend a bit more time on the edge of night up here. There's a big seasonal variance in what time of day that edge comes, but the dawns and twilights are long (regardless of if they're coming at four in the afternoon or four in the morning). In the deep summer, the only thing that looks even a little bit like night is essentially one prolonged twilight that lasts for a couple of hours in the general region of midnight.

At various times I'm on the edge of being run over by my sheep, being eaten out of house and home by my dogs, freezing half to death (sometimes literally), or becoming so completely disorganized that my cells lose all cohesion so that I dissolve into a puddle of goo.

Mostly I find myself the edge of my life, the front edge, where it's expanding. That might mean I'm hot on the trail of some mystery diagnosis, or that I'm trying out some new hobby (because God knows that the approximately 27,000 hobbies I already have just aren't enough, and I clearly must have MORE), or that I'm flying to Africa for safari (thanks, Mom) or Paris for my birthday (thanks, Dave). It's a peculiar thing, but being on that leading edge of my life seems at the same time to place me squarely in the center of my self. I don't know how that works, but there it is. Maybe I've got that backwards: Being in the center of my Self brings me to being on that front edge of my life.

It's interesting, anyway... the cutting edge may be sharp and it may be scary, and it may even be dangerous... but that's where the juice is.


MaskedMan said...

Well, if you're not moving forward, you're stagnating. And if you're stagnating, you're sinking. And if you're skinking, you're not centered.


I guess, if you're centered, you must be moving forward.

Nice photos, by the way. ;)

AKDD said...

Thanks! Looooove my digital camera! (Thanks, Dave! - Merry Xmas to moi from Cpt. Bogart...)