At night, I wait for a sign
in the wind, a stillness
in the cold, black water
before jumping
from the rocky ledge,
knowing my body must
find its way through darkness.
I begin each dive like the first time-
a whispered invocation.
~ Amy Uyematsu

This past Sunday we took a drive down the river. I had been told that many birds had simply stopped down around Red Wing, waiting. Waiting for the snow to stop, the temperatures to rise, the spring to arrive. It was a gray afternoon but I come from a family of Sunday afternoon ‘drives’ so to get into the car without an intention of going anywhere for a purpose felt comforting. The driving reminded me of those many Sundays my parents would pile us into the car and we’d take off. Just to look at the scenery. Just to get a leisurely change of pace. These drives usually always ended with ice cream so these memories are good, very good.

Sunday’s drive did not harvest as many bird sightings as we imagined or hoped for. We did see several kinds of water birds including mergansers and several ducks. Some immature eagles flew overhead and there were the obligatory swooping gulls. That is until we crossed the river and came to Prescott, Wisconsin.

Prescott which rests at the confluence of the Mississippi and St. Croix rivers is one of those lovely little river towns. After crossing the bridge and heading back toward Minnesota, we saw a section of water that was flowing but still had frozen ice making up a large part of the surface. You could see where the ice formed an undulating ridge before dropping off into open, frigid water. Standing at the very edges of the ice were several blue herons. They stood there like divers at the end of a diving board as if waiting for the signal to jump…..or fly as they had the ability.

It was an interesting sight. These enormous birds, looking every bit the ancestor of some prehistoric cousin, seemed to be standing on the edge between winter and spring. Their presence seemed to hold a kind of witness out to all who would watch winter’s departure and spring’s arrival. To wait while the ice melts? To lift up and allow the wind to carry them into a warmer and hopeful place? It was all only a matter of time.

Watching these birds standing at the edge, I thought about all the edges where we stand. Many times we stand, our feet glued to a spot where things seem safe and secure knowing with our whole heart, it is time to move. Other times we are brought to an edge we never meant to encounter but life or luck or fate is pushing at our backs and the choice does not seem to be ours. To jump? To fly? Only our courage or patience or wisdom can answer those questions.

We stand at the edges every day though we may not think of it in that way. There is the edge of this day and the next, this breath and the one to follow. I know so many young ones who are standing at the edges of what has been high school or college and now they are perched, ready to take flight. It is an exciting and even frightening time. The edges their parents are experiencing are different, their own, equally as exciting and not without fear. These life edges can be like thresholds that open us to the what next in powerful and profound ways.

On what edges do you find yourself these days? What signs are you searching for? What stillness holds you? What darkness waits to catch you? May your breath become a whispered invocation as you jump……or glide…….. or fly.