TO BE AN EDGE-DWELLER

When I was young and living with friends in Texas, I didn't understand how it all fit together. There were sometimes 10 people living in that small house - all sharing one bathroom. The economy of the house was sustained by money earned by the married couple Jon and Pat who both worked - Jon on a casing crew in the Gulf of Mexico and Pat as a bar tender.


Some of us hunted, some of us fished, someone always made dinner, someone took care of the children. It got cold, someone made a fire. Things just seemed to get done, but I didn't know what my responsibility was. No one told me to do anything. I'd never had that kind of freedom before. It must be a secret that people who live in communes have. I tried to discover the secret of these people who seem to understand some common principle of existence without boundaries... people who dwell on the edge.


The people in this house were part of my tribe and there did not seem to be any better place to be than with them at the edge of the world. I think I'm still an edge-dweller. Into my 60s now, a lot wiser and with more freedom to get on with my work. And what is that work? The work, as I refer to it, is to "act out" the life of your own hero. To live your life as you want to and refuse to be defeated by the myriad excuses that most people offer for their not being able to do that.


Since this life is engendered in the imagination, imagination is one of the primary tools available for actualizing it. As edge-dwellers, we were proud of being tougher, more experimental and truthful, and less compromised than many of our peers who seemed more interested in easy assimilations. I hope to prove by my existence that each of us can act out the life of our highest fantasies.


If you can leap the hurdles of programmed expectations and self-imposed limits, the future promises boundless possibilities. If one cannot, one has to understand it as either a natural limit, or one to be remedied. There is no one or system to blame. Now, at this time in my life, the condition of freedom has been presented to me as an actual possibility... and I'm ready for it.

Come to the edge!
     We can't... we'll fall.
Come to the edge!
     We can't... we're afraid.
Come to the edge!
     They went...
      she pushed them...
      and they flew!


My Heritage Softail Classic.  This was my 6th bike and my 3rd Harley.  I sold it several years ago.  I really loved that bike.  It lived inside my house in my living room.

It was freezing cold on this day but I was bundled up and wanted to go for a ride.  I was wearing my fox hat which had a beautiful tail down the back.  I made several of these hats and still have them.  I also made the Coyote on the front of the bike with eyes, teeth and tongue.  He went with me everywhere.

3 comments:

  1. Thank you for putting my feelings and thoughts into such an eloquent arrangement. May your journey be Blessed!

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  2. Your bike was in your living room? Wow! You really love it that much! It goes to show that we can give some love and attention to material possessions, especially if it means so much to you. And I can see why you really love this bike. It is a stunning masterpiece. The build and make of the bike look spectacular and astounding.

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  3. Who’s awesome? It’s you! Haha! You totally rock!! :)) I mean these pictures really show how cool you are riding on a motorcycle. And, your Heritage Softail Classic is indeed a magnificent piece!

    Clare Westby

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