Edge of Being
Early February, and my Mother had just died. I found myself back in a hometown that I largely hated to go through what remained of my parents life. Exhausted, completely lost and uncertain of what next. I came across a rubbage heap, and a particular photograph lying in that mess stood out: A beautiful woman with intense, dark eyes. Piercing, and a countenance uncommon for that age. Her whole life lie ahead of her. And this woman was magic, ripped and faded on the edges, but undeniably a force. I saw myself in her eyes, but I had no idea who she was. Just an ancestress from another age, faded and yellowed and filled with mystery and tossed in the bin.
And I had a choice. I could leave her to an eternity of rubble, or I could learn what secrets she had yet to reveal. I could listen to her mysteries, and through her discover my own.
And so I tucked her in my bra, like women do.
And that is how my art began.
As all magic does.
Wherever you are, or want to be, remember: the edge of being calls and compels you to step into your path. All you simply need to do is be present, and answer the call.