There are times when life can feel monotonous, stuck or uninteresting.

And there are times when it feels like one big adventure.

On the surface, this seems to be related to how we navigate our lifestyle:

Things like balance fun, structure, routine and flow.

This is not entirely wrong, but it's not entirely right either.

It's simply that those things are more condusive to something else.

Here's what I mean:

If you take a step back and think about specific moments when you felt "most alive", what were they?

Here are some common answers:

• A party
• A sunset
• An orgasm
• A roller coaster ride
• The potential start of a new relationship
• Performing in front of way more people than you're comfortable with

...and here are some answers which you might not have thought of, but are common:

• Getting repeatedly punched in the face
• A bucket of ice water being poured on your head
• Your heart breaking harder than it ever has

There's a reason why the guys in fight club started a...well, fight club.

They wanted a visceral, violent escape from the numbness of modern consumerism, corporate monotony, and their perceived emasculation.

In other words: They wanted to live on the edge.

But what does it mean to "live on the edge"? What exactly is this edge?

We could assume that it is about risk. But that's not it.

It's simply that doing risky things allows us to feel the edge (and we'll soon see why that is).

Risk allows us to feel the edge for the same reason that routines and structure make it harder for us to feel the edge.

But the edge is always there. The truth is, we are always living on it. What changes is the degree to which it is in our awareness.

There's an intrinsic uncertainty to being alive. The times are always changing. Rapidly.

Will AI replace your job? Maybe.

Could your loved ones pass away at any given day?

I'd like to not think about it, but yes, they may.

Every kiss might be your last. Every phrase might be the last one they hear of you.

Yet at the same time, you may a have a million more days together.

You may see these people every day for the rest of your life.

This is the edge.

Everything you know and love can be taken from you, or continue to last.

Every next moment might me exactly what you expected, or a wild surprise.

We live in the edge during parties because parties are high potential.

You may have the most surprising conversations. You may meet the love of your life. You may find yourself dancing in ways that have you feel brand new the next day.

You may end up in a bar fight, in an orgy or wake up wondering why you stayed up so late for something so lame.

A roller coaster ride reveals the edge to us because we have no idea how our body is going to respond to the next turn or twist. And that's how life is. We don't know where we'll be by the end of the year, but we try to create some certainty.

We think we dream of a time when everything's a smooth ride, but really, whenever we're having one, things feel uninteresting. And we look for ways to live on the edge.

The edge is where we realize how dumbly in love we are.

Because we feel it the most when the unexpected happens. When we find compassion for someone's struggles, when we feel deep appreciation for them, or when our heart's breaking because we had different expectations.

The only way to feel these things is to open ourselves up to both love and suffering—and try to have the courage to dance with them.

This is the edge. Feeling that all of that is true at every single moment.

That life is incredibly uncertainty. That every action we take and every word we speak is changing our future immediately—but we can only predict to a certain degree which shape it will take.

And the more we try to control it, the more we freak out when that's not the case.

This can be overwhelming. So we must do some things that decrease the degree of unpredictability.

Like showing up to work every day, checking our budget and brushing our teeth (believe me, they all matter).

This is why routine can make things feel flat: It makes us less aware that we are living on the edge.

But we still are. It doesn't matter how much routine we have, or lack. We feel more alive when we open up to the fact that the edge is where we're at. And when we pretend that's not true, life feels flat.

Desensitization plays a role in that. When we live a life sheltered from stress, we're generally also unaware of the edge, and feel overwhelmed when it appears.

When we live a life with too much unpredictability and stress, our nervous system kicks into a defense:

We might run from it (e.g. by using mind-altering substances or binge-watching Netflix).

We might fight it (by trying to insist everything and everyone should behave different).

We might simply freeze and do nothing (something I've recently realized happens to me for long periods).

This means that if we want to feel more alive again, what we need is to find ways to get closer to the edge without going into overwhelm.

Find little things that feel a bit scary or unpredictable, but not so scary that they make us want to run and hide.

Take on a bit more stress, but not so much that we collapse under it.

And while we're doing it, keep feeling our body. The more we focus on increasing embodiment during activities that bring us closer to the edge, the more we build capacity to live on it.

Living on the edge is associated with risky activities, because to feel alive is to realize we're vulnerable. Life is risk at all times.

We can only feel alive to the degree that we are aware of our potential to be dead.

This can mean increasing the intensity of the experiences you choose to have. But it can also mean increasing awareness of your vulnerability during what you're already doing.

Can you feel your heartbeat and realize that it might stop one day?

Can you watch a sunset and realize you'll never see the same one again?

Can you say something in a group that has you a little worried they won't look at you the same?

These are little ways to increase aliveness, and make life less flat right away.

Eventually, we can find where our own edges are. What's currently too much for us. And how we can get closer to it.

What's the thing we're so scared to say or do that we can't, because of how much there is to lose?

What's 10 steps less than that? Is that an edge we can live on?

Building the capacity for this, especially through conversation, is part of what we practice in the Connection Dojo.

It's not a 1 time thing, but a constant calibration. There are periods where we have less capacity than others.

Where "living on the edge" actually means living quite comfortably.

And there are periods when we need to meet the world a little bit more aggressively.

The key skill is learning to reocgnize in your body where you are in relationship to this, especially in conversation with others:

How are their words impacting me? How am I feeling about not knowing how they'll respond to what I'm about to say?

If these are skills you'd love to train, just reply to this email and say "hey". I'll send you the invite.

...in the meantime, have fun playing around with this!

Much love,

Pep