What is the edge of awareness?
The edge of awareness is a psychic location where something previously unknown takes shape. A body sensation becomes information about our physical state. Unsettledness resolves into a clear emotion. Some words write themselves into a legible thought.
If we can cultivate this radical presence, we can deal with what is, not what we think should be, fear, or wish for. Until we face our internal truths, we cannot change our:
- Trauma responses
- Attachment strategies
- Patterns of giving up agency
- Ability to be connected with others
- Capacity to take care of ourselves through intensity
- Participation in oppressive dynamics, internally, interpersonally, and systemically
To be at this edge is to be focused on immediate experience without analyzing, judging, anticipating, imagining, interpreting. It can be a hard place to inhabit. We might not like the thoughts we have. The sensory experiences may be uncomfortable. Our emotions may hurt.
But they are all meaningful. We receive their meaning by letting something indistinct enter our consciousness and form into something understandable, then continuing to hold open a door of unknowing.
This is different from choosing to focus on specific thoughts, emotions, or physical sensations—lanes of awareness—as we often do. We don’t select or prioritize any particular lane. What we perceive may move between the cognitive, somatic, emotional, imaginative, or something else as we continue to be curious about what comes next.
Why explore this edge?
Inhabiting the edge of awareness is a way to witness more of our internal universe.
Our brains are designed to make things fit into understandable frameworks. They do this by using cognitive heuristics—quickly available rules of thumb—to create understanding (there are many cognitive heuristics available to us). These shortcuts serve us in day-to-day life.
But the biases those shortcuts produce, our unconscious defense mechanisms, and overreliance on executive function can prevent deeper understanding of our complex thinking and feeling.
Brains also create patterns. What started as a survival mechanism now functions to provide soothing and security, even when we don’t need it. While pattern recognition benefits us in many ways, it also closes off avenues of inquiry. If we think we already know something, we generally don’t take the time to explore it further or ask if we might be wrong.
So we can use the edge of awareness to seek new or additional insight and to create space for felt, embodied knowledge.
This practice is about expanding reality. It can lead to psychological connections not readily available in day to day life. These connections among feeling, perceiving, and thinking give us new understanding of our internal and external experiences. From that stance, we have more agency and freedom to change.
Here’s an example from my own experience. In a Brainspotting session (more on that shortly), I noted tension in my shoulders. Then a recent instance of a miscommunication with my husband came to mind. It was part of an emerging pattern of the typical sort one has with a partner. (The physical sensation led to a cognitive observation.)
I continued to be present without trying to analyze that pattern. Then I saw an image of myself at 16, sitting at a dining table, struck by a fear of nothingness, of disappearing into an abyss. (The cognitive observation led to a memory.) There was something about the gaps in our communication that called up a 16-year-old part of me afraid of disappearing. (The memory led to an emotional insight.) The next time we had the miscommunication, I was able to be curious instead of reactive. (The insight led to a behavior shift.)
Could I have cognitively traced the miscommunication we were having to a fear from 27 years ago that I no longer have or would even have recalled if asked? Certainly not. But by sensing on the edge, I learned something new. And miscommunications of that type have disappeared from my relationship.
How to practice the edge of awareness
There’s more than one way to do this. I’m going to talk about two, Focusing and Brainspotting.
Focusing
Focusing is an experiential practice of attending to the “felt sense”: that which is not clear, but fuzzy or vague, beyond our grasp. Developed by psychologist Gene Gendlin, Focusing helps us use our thinking and feeling to build self-awareness.
In Focusing, we clear a space in our bodies and gently inquire of that space what is true in the moment. The space gives us something to work with, which we call a handle. We ask ourselves questions about that handle: What are the qualities of this thing? What’s inside this? A quality or feature forms itself. Is this right? Further facets emerge. Is this the whole of the thing, or is there more?
Continuing to inquire about the felt sense invites more truth to emerge. At some point, we may notice an internal shift that tells us the whole of whatever is true in the moment is now known. We can then explore that complexity, or we can gently set it aside to continue inquiring within.
Brainspotting
Brainspotting therapy starts with identifying both the quality and quantity of present-moment experience. The quality might be sadness, a weight on the chest, a critical thought, an image from the past. The quantity is how much, strong, or overwhelming this phenomenon is at the moment.
In Brainspotting, you find an eye position that helps you attune to your present experience. The only directive in Brainspotting is to notice. What happens physically, emotionally, cognitively, or imaginally as you rest your eyes on this one spot? A thought may transform into a different type of experience—a sensation or feeling. A memory of your childhood may appear. Through this state of receptivity, unknown connections emerge.
I’m learning to stay at the edge of awareness in my writing, to simply keep going until whatever is in me at the moment enters my consciousness. You may find this ability in any expressive practice. And if you’re curious, Focusing has a simple six-step process you can try by yourself.
I find this practice usually only lasts a few minutes. Sometimes it’s enough to clear fuzzy confusion or distress so I can go about my day without carrying that in the background. Other times I find a revelation that is the kernel of big change.
