The Edge of the Map – A Conversation Between Peter Witz and Dr. Graves

Peter Witz: Dr. Graves, I keep returning to this image: a map, aged and worn, with clean edges drawn in ink. Mountains, cities, rivers—all named and measured. But then… it ends. Just white space. Somewhere beyond those lines is what we haven’t charted. And I find myself standing there more often these days, at the edge of the map. What does one do with that?

Dr. Graves: A timeless metaphor, Peter. One that every explorer—of lands, or of self—must eventually face. Maps are tools, but they are also illusions. They give the appearance of certainty. But reality has always extended past the borders we’re comfortable drawing.

Peter Witz: So the edge isn’t a mistake. It’s an invitation?

Dr. Graves: Precisely. What lies beyond the map is not absence, but potential. It’s the place where the known dissolves into the possible. But most people don’t see it that way. They treat the edge as a warning: “Do not go further.” And so, they don’t. They build homes at the border. They memorize the map. But they never step into the unknown.

Peter Witz: Because it’s terrifying. There’s no path, no landmarks, no promises. Out there, anything could happen. Or nothing.

Dr. Graves: And yet, it is precisely that terror that marks the beginning of transformation. Growth never happens in the center of the map. It happens on the edge—where we are unmade. It is only in the wilderness, in the unmarked space, that we are free enough to become something new.

Peter Witz: Then what we call fear might be a compass?

Dr. Graves: It often is. Not every fear, of course—some protect, some paralyze—but the fear that arises when we approach the boundary of what we know? That’s sacred. That’s the edge whispering, “You’re almost there.”

Peter Witz: And if we cross it?

Dr. Graves: Then we begin to write a new map. But it won’t be ink and paper this time. It’ll be carved in memory, layered into intuition. Beyond the known, the tools change. Logic softens. Listening deepens. The world becomes a mirror, reflecting parts of you that had no place within the lines.

Peter Witz: It reminds me of something I heard once: “What you fear most is where your soul wants to go.”

Dr. Graves: Yes. Because fear often guards the threshold of the self. The part of you that has not yet been integrated. When you stand at the edge of the map, you are also standing at the edge of identity. The question becomes: Are you willing to cross, knowing you won’t be the same on the other side?

Peter Witz: It’s a kind of death, isn’t it? A quiet one. The death of certainty.

Dr. Graves: And the birth of wonder. To lose certainty is not to become lost—it is to become open. Certainty cages. Mystery liberates.

Peter Witz: But we don’t stay in the unknown forever, do we?

Dr. Graves: No. We return. But not as the same person. And what was once edge becomes center. What was once mystery becomes map. And then, in time, you find yourself at the edge again. It’s not a one-time journey. It’s a rhythm.

Peter Witz: So life is not a straight path, but a series of spirals—each taking us further, deeper?

Dr. Graves: Precisely. And the map is never wrong—it’s just never complete. It serves until it doesn’t. And when it no longer does, we must have the courage to fold it up, take a deep breath, and step into what cannot yet be named.

Peter Witz: Then perhaps the edge is not the end at all. Perhaps it’s the only place where something truly begins.

Dr. Graves: A wise conclusion, Peter. At the edge, we meet the part of ourselves that no map could capture. And in doing so, we begin to remember that we were never just explorers of the world—but of something far more infinite.