Transitionary Edges

Standing on the edge of a piece of land I love, brought there perhaps by a sunrise or sunset. Surely brought there by the pure strength of feeling I have at being present - where the force of its presence and my presence meets. But I can't stay here - I must move on to another present and presence.

I've been thinking about the feeling that builds in me around such times of change - like a gathering of  swallows - dipping and skimming, restless, readying themselves to leave. It's a meshing of wanting to stay, with the inevitability of having to go - an uncomfortable place that I have to sit with until my internal compass needle recalibrates. I name these feelings transitionary edges - where the sadness around loss and disconnection meets the hope of new possibilities. These edges of transition are real places for me, and it has helped me to name them, to inhabit them and to move on from them.