Q: Your book is really helping me, thank you for answering questions here. Can you say more about how to "walk yourself to the edge" with inquiry?

A: I’ll start by saying it’s important not to romanticize the edge. It’s not some type of a spiritual milestone; it’s the point where every story you tell yourself runs out. Walking yourself to the edge isn’t a technique or a practice. It’s not something you ‘do better.’ It just means removing every place you still allow yourself to stand. 

It all hinges on radical honesty, which is its own form of surrender because it withdraws energy from self-preservation. Nothing is managed or defended. The edge is where you stop negotiating.

Check yourself for impulses like, If I do this correctly, I can wake up without dying.

The edge is not something you reach by going harder, it’s what appears when you stop stepping back. It’s  just about refusing the move to safety. You notice a belief that feels foundational, you question it honestly, an answer appears that restores balance, meaning, or identity. And instead of accepting that answer, you ask: Who needs this to be true? What collapses if it isn’t?

This is a thing you get a feel for with practice and repetition. It’s very counter-intuitive, but when inquiry stops giving you anything, you’re finally using it correctly.

Discomfort can be a good gauge. If you feel clearer, calmer, reassured, inspired, or more certain, you’ve probably stepped away from the edge. The edge feels like losing your footing, not finding answers.

When you’re actually approaching it the inquiry stops feeling productive, the questions stop yielding insight, your answers collapse instead of resolve. You feel exposed. The urge to stop increases sharply, the desire for reassurance spikes, and you want someone else to tell you it’s okay.

At some point, (I’ve seen this be both gradual or abrupt,) you stop asking what is true and start seeing that you don’t exist in the way you assumed. That’s where the fear and the exhaustion comes from. That’s where people often think they’re losing it. But you’re not losing your mind. You’re losing your story.

Your question points to Phase Three: Deconstruction. The phase where you’ve accepted that something must die, but you may still be trying to negotiate the terms of death. You’re no longer seeking relief (Phase One) or stability (Phase Two). Now you’re seeking precision. How to do this right. That urge itself can be the final refinement of the false self.

Try asking:

What belief am I absolutely unwilling to question because I suspect nothing would be left to stand on?

And be honest. You don’t walk to the edge by being smart, spiritual, or sincere. You walk there by refusing to lie to yourself anymore.