There's a concept I have often contemplated since beginning my journey into nature 7 years ago. It's the notion of the Edge of Desire, also the title of one of John Mayer's songs from his Battle Studies album (which rumor has it was written about Jennifer Aniston when they were dating) (gosh, Jenn - this is how rumors are started, ya big gossip!)

Edge of desire. Like the edges of a road. Or a bridge. Or a box. Or prison. Or cage. Or bed.

John seems to suggest that the edge of desire is the meeting place between his principles and values, and raw, primal wanting as if to suggest you can't have both, or that one must be given up for the other.

"I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe."

And while I think primal desire is very real and can often be incredibly misleading, I think there's 'big D' Desire that is a very different thing.

It's this distinction that cleans the windshield through which we see relationships with others, I'm presuming.

Sitting with his lyrics today, I felt a bigger story beyond his frame of heartbreak and wanting. A bigger story. A deeper truth. One that lives beyond the boundaries of going back on things we believe.

Think about the walls people build. Not brick by brick, but wound by wound. Fear by fear. Whisper by condemning whisper.

Each one labeled with echoes from the past:

• Keep your distance to stay safe.
• Don't need anyone too much.
• Protect yourself first.
• Stay in control.
• Don't risk what you have.

Cages crafted from caution. Safety becoming suffocation. Protection turned prison.

Let's play with this idea for a minute. Join me, won't you?

What if the edge of big D Desire isn't about compromising values - it's about transcending limitations?

What if it's not about going back on what we believe; it's about going forward into what we could become?

Most of us resist crossing these edges because we can't see evidence of what lies beyond.

As if butterflies demanded proof of flight before leaving their cocoons.

As if seeds required guarantees before splitting open in the dark.

As if rivers needed permission to find their way to the sea.

We cling to our familiar cages because at least we know their dimensions, their limitations, their particular kind of pain.

As if staying small was ever safer than becoming vast.

But that's the thing about edges - they're not just boundaries between what is and isn't safe. They're thresholds. Doorways. Portals between who we are and who we could become. Between the self shaped by echoes and the self shaped by thunder.

The dragons we must slay aren't the people outside of ourselves that we encounter - they're the beliefs that keep us from them. Those fire-breathing fears masquerading as wisdom. Those scales of safety we've wrapped ourselves in. Those treasures of truth we guard so fiercely that were never really ours to begin with.

Picture this:

A girl stands at the edge of everything she's known.

The wind carries whispers of who she could become.

Her desire burns brighter than her fear.

She takes one step.

Then another.

And here's the magic that always unfolds: The universe conspires to meet her courage. Every single time. Without fail.

Nature never questions itself. The river doesn't doubt its path to the ocean. The flower doesn't fear its own blooming. The moon never wonders if it's worthy of pulling the tides.

Nature simply trusts. Moves. Becomes. 

And so it is with us. The path appears beneath our feet exactly as we need it. The light shows up precisely when darkness feels too heavy. 

Because that's how it works when we trust the knowing that lives in our bones. When we follow the compass of our deepest desires. When we listen to the future calling us forward instead of the past holding us back.

And maybe that's the point of Desire - not to tempt us away from our principles, but to guide us toward truth. Not to make us smaller, but to crack us open into something vast and real and beautifully, terrifyingly alive.

What if the very edges that terrify us most are actually doorways to our deepest healing?

If she were standing right in front of you - this love that feels so unfamiliar it almost burns - would you label her your enemy?

Or would you trust that your desire is all-knowing of a future your past knows nothing about?

That your heart is a compass pointing true north. That your longing is a map to your becoming. That the very thing that scares you most is the doorway you've been searching for all along.

What if everything that feels like breaking is actually breaking open? What if everything that feels like falling is actually flying? What if everything that feels like losing your way is actually finding your way home?

To a home your past never dared to dream of.

To a truth your wounds never let you touch.

To a love your barriers never let you believe in.

Until now.

Maybe that's the real edge of desire - not the line between right and wrong, but the threshold between who we've been and who we're brave enough to be.