Beneath my hard edges…there is a love song. – Robert M. Drake

The other day I received a message in meditation that said, “Remember to be tender.” I teared up when I felt into that. My tenderness was something that I had embraced like a long lost lover, and recently I had felt it slipping away replaced by a frustrated edginess.

In the past few weeks, I barked at my dog when she wasn’t responding to my invitation to go for a pee more quickly. I yelled in frustration at being delayed in traffic. I said something insensitive to a friend. My usual equanimity was gone. Something was definitely amiss.

So often, we get through by having an edge–sharp, prickly or crispy (as one friend describes hers)–that cuts away or deflects things we don’t want to feel or take in. We act out this edginess; we impose it on others; we walk through the world with an invisible sword in our hands. God help those who get in our way. Whatever form our edges take, they are not loving, to ourselves or to others.

So, what can we do to smooth and soften our edges? It’s not by “taking the “edge off” as they say. That just mutes and muffles the edge until it raises its ugly head again. My way of taking the edge off (when I was still in the corporate world) was having a glass of wine after work, getting “comfortably numb.” When I began to experience severe migraines after even a few sips of alcohol, I gave it up entirely, and suddenly, my edge-taker-offer was gone. No muting and muffling for me.

Fortunately, when the migraines arrived, I was meditating daily and had discovered cacao, both of which smoothed my edges without dulling my senses. These practices allowed me to feel and acknowledge my feelings instead of suppressing them. As I became more aware, I could be more open, compassionate and loving towards myself and others. Tenderness with healthy boundaries replaced the edginess.

As I witnessed the re-emergence of my edges recently, I realized that they arise when I don’t stay true to my tenderness and unconsciously allow my ego to begin building walls around it. My tenderness doesn’t need the protection of my ego.

I broke up with my ego five years ago when I fell in love with cacao, meditation and shamanic journeys. These practices allowed me to dissolve my ego (without it knowing), gently stripping away limiting beliefs, negative self-talk and unneeded defenses until what was left was just tender ol’ me. A me that is vulnerable and yet strong in knowing who I am and what I care about. A me that can share and accept love unconditionally. A me, I like and love.

My original edges came from being what one friend called, “too porous.” I was like a sponge; I soaked everything in until I felt like I was drowning, so I froze all that wateriness and created a protective iciness. Sharp and yet shiny.

I feel as though I have a membrane now rather than an edge. It lets things in and out, allowing feelings to flow and not get stuck. It doesn’t judge, but it does filter and discriminate. If it doesn’t align with an energy, it either doesn’t let it in or filters it out. It has no need for defensive, protective edges. It’s smooth and self-healing.

The same friend with the “crispy” edges recently expressed gratitude to her partner for helping “polish” her edges. My own polishing allows me to come back to my softer, gentler, tender self, to the one I love. I can still be fierce and fearless, but always in service to my tenderness, my compassion, my love for others and self.

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