Standing at the Precipice

I choose to look ahead and beyond

Like you, I stand at the edge of uncertainty, not knowing how the next days or even months will unfold. Our society grapples with an unprecedented epistemic crisis—a fog where truth itself seems to fragment and shift. With little to no agreement on how we discern truth we become more and more disorientated and edgy. It does not matter your beliefs or convictions. We all are feeling on the brink of something. 

This consciousness of standing on the brink crystallized for me while reading Parker Palmer's On the Brink of Everything: Grace, Gravity and Getting Old. The metaphor resonated deeply with my own life's transitions: an empty nest, the gentle weight of my fifties, watching parents age as our family constellation contracts. My professional journey bends toward creation and service, as I attempt to shift to the outer ripples with grace. As I listened to Palmer’s wisdom, I recognized that beyond our personal precipices we are all teetering on a collective edge.

There are moments when my gaze is drawn downward from this precipice. Below, darkness churns with violence and vitriol, a void our children and grandchildren may inherit if we falter. Like mountaineers on a sheer cliff face, we must acknowledge the abyss without letting it claim our focus—for to stare too long into the depths is to risk losing our footing.

So I lift my eyes skyward, searching for light at the edge of shadow. I commune with the ancestors, their wisdom rising like stars in the gathering dusk. I draw strength from younger generations, their passion and purpose blazing like the sun that pulls us ever forward. While tomorrow's uncertainty looms, I choose to seek hope in the vast canvas of possibilities before us.

Looking toward the horizon, I witness both potential catastrophe and rebirth. I choose to embrace the panoramic view, rejecting the narrow perspectives that threaten to divide us. Grounding myself, I practice keeping my eyes forward and beyond—scanning left and right, above and below, embracing the totality of our moment in history. Each step forward is grounded in the eternal constancy of celestial bodies: sun, stars, and moon maintain their vigil, even when veiled by storms or hidden beyond the curve of Earth. They remind us that even in darkness, light endures.

Through this practice of perspective—of looking up from the depths, out to the horizon, and ahead to possibility—we might find our way forward along this precipitous edge. Not with false certainty, but with mindful steps and hearts open to both gravity and grace.