“Honor the space between no longer and not yet.” — Nancy Levin
In every moment of life there lies a brief space between breaths — where Before and After are bound to the Present as leading and trailing shadows. Like three siblings, they experience and remember each moment with you.
It is here where life’s greatest joys and sorrows find a home.
The Siblings of a Moment’s Breath
Every day you take over 20,000 breaths, inhaling and exhaling to mark the beginning and ending of each present moment. Most of these breaths go unnoticed, too similar to distinguish. Occasionally, you may note a few. An inhale or exhale that unfolds into:
· Recognition (celebrations, accomplishments)
· Recovery (after exercise, healing from illness, vacation)
· Relaxation (end of day, meditation, prayer)
· Relief (triumphs, escape from suffering/failure)
· Restoration (renewed relationships, self-transformation)
But do you notice the space in between breaths?
When you find stillness, you will notice this space is as quiet as an eyelash’s whisper and vast enough to hold all of your Befores and Afters.
Within this space, Before and After cast advancing and receding shadows of your Present, offering a rich and seemingly impossible family portrait of your presence on life’s path.
And yet they are more than inherently related. They share your moments as companions and confidants, but also from time to time as traitors.
The oldest sister, Before, has hips broad enough to carry your history like a mother carries a growing toddler — sometimes with ease and at other times straining. Her hands move with a magician’s grace and mystery as she reveals and replaces the confetti of life’s moments from her suit of endless and concealed pockets. The recent fine lines of wisdom around her eyes bring depth to her timeless face, giving it youthfulness and well-earned maturity depending on the light. Her pale cheeks sometimes flush pink — a reminder of her ageless spirit and patient acceptance of what has been.
The youngest, After, is an unpredictable man-child. He wears a fedora in hopes of disguising his youthful face and creating an aura of sophistication so he might earn the approval he craves from his siblings and you. He chooses his hat’s color based on the occasion. His lithe frame gives him agility, but should not be mistaken for weakness. He can carry off anything from urban jeans to a designer tuxedo, but his shoulders betray his fluctuating confidence. An unexpected streak of grey distinguishes the rebellious wave of hair peeking from under the back of his hat.
The often ignored middle child, Present, wears a wreath of life on her head. Her crystalline eyes are a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting only you and the ever-changing moment. The eternal dress of light she wears brightens and highlights the individual notes of the moment, striking a perfect chord for all the senses. Her sinewy arms move like a conductor’s, inviting you to breathe in the cantata’s chords. Using this moment’s musicians, Present composes unique and unlimited chords. She may start the day with Joy’s Chord: candle, song, embrace, sweetness, flower. And then a moment later, fearlessly create Sorrow’s Chord: friend, whimper, caress, salt, decay. Present leads the opus of major and minor chords, patiently waiting for you to observe.
But during moments of extreme joy or deep sorrow, it is easy for you to become distracted and you justify favoritism towards one of the siblings.
“If you let a loved one become an idol in your heart, you endanger that one — as well as yourself.” — Sarah Young
Present never demands your attention. She may nudge you if you ignore her for too long, but she never leaves. Before and After are not quite as understanding of your bias toward one or the other. They compete for your attention and tell you lies about their siblings.
Present tries to help by opening your mind’s door so you can breathe past their deceptions, but this creates a chance for the currently unvalued sibling to wander off.
Present stands with you at life’s threshold announcing and welcoming all guests (Joy, Sadness, Love, Hope, Fear, Peace, Surprise, Courage, Hurt, Guilt, Grief, Trust, Worth, and Acceptance) without bias. But without her siblings to share in these moments, she and you are distracted hosts. While you engage or endure your VIP guests, Present yearns for her missing sibling. She is left to invite, watch, and patiently wait for their return.
Joy’s Celebration
“May your walls know joy, may every room hold laughter, and every window open to great possibility.” — Mary Anne Radmacher
When Present announces Joy’s visit, we throw open the front door and invite others to our moments of celebration, or eagerly RSVP to the picture-perfect occasions of others. Mixing and mingling among the guests are Before and After. Before’s classic black suit frames her shimmering champagne blouse while After’s silver-blue hat gives a nod of cool confidence. Both are honored guests and receive toast-worthy acknowledgement.
But as the celebration crescendos, After shines brighter and becomes the life of the party. His optimism and charisma enchants and amuses the well-wishers.
While Before is welcomed to the party, she does not receive a place of honor at the head table. And with each passing breath, she fades a bit more into the background, becoming the solitary and muted wallflower outside the circle of color and celebration.
Following the joyous event, both are invited to stay as long as they like, but while After is given one of the best rooms in our homes and hearts, Before is given a few blankets and shown to the sofa.
Jealousy, Pride, and Injustice show up for morning coffee, creating a destructive competition between the oldest and youngest siblings of this moment — Before and After. They quarrel, destroying our serenity, and they compete by using attention-grabbing weapons: dreams of possibilities, poignant photographs, holiday traditions, milestone anniversaries, story-telling music, and unmistakable scents.
Our guilt and their tools of distraction easily overshadow Present, the peacemaking sibling caught in-between Before and After. She nudges and simply provides the healing power of the moment’s breath, where there is enough attention and affection for all.
When we breathe with intention, a reunion occurs between siblings. Before’s bruises and After’s apprehension vanish in the space between breaths — at least for a while.
Then comes the moment when you release an unremarkable exhale. It precedes the news that will change thousands of exhales in the hours, days, and years ahead.
Tragedy’s Theft
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” — C.S. Lewis
One rainy day, after hours of doing the work of everyday life and taking many ordinary breaths, you head for home. Present runs to keep stride with you, but says nothing as you continue to ignore her like you’ve done all day. She tugs your coattail and begs you to slow down as you approach home. Shaking her off, you pause and begin a long sigh, anticipating After’s welcome home. You longingly look toward your front door.
You catch Before peeking through the curtains, waiting for you like she always does. But today her face looks different — a shade of hope brightens her usually pale features. She waves not with greeting, but with hints of apology and confession. In her other hand she holds a torn but storied picture of a treasured loved one. Before, Present, and After had all been there that day.
Wondering what other damage Before and After may have done while you were away with Present, you pause mid-inhale. But you don’t have time to speculate or expand your lungs completely because Present pulls at your attention again.
Your annoyance with Before and Present builds and yet you sense your own distraction — something is not right.
Sighing, you begin just one more everyday-exhale without detecting the minor flinch in Before’s gesture for you to come inside. You don’t notice how she reluctantly relinquishes your focus to Present because she knows you are unprepared for the crushing instant of heart-breaking news.
At first you barely acknowledge After waiting for you near the door. Usually wearing a latte- or merlot-colored hat, his permanent presence, especially at the end of a day is predictable, but today his hat is ash black.
He is not alone.
You freeze at the sight and stench of his disheveled companion waiting on your doorstep. After’s friend gives a single nod of recognition and approval toward Present. Without waiting for an introduction, the stranger rushes toward you. His aggressive embrace suffocates you and he whispers his name into your ear: Tragedy.
As you resist him, you feel yourself falling.
There is no longer ground beneath your feet.
Present reaches for you, but you close your eyes trying to understand your friends’ betrayal. Why didn’t she stop you and how could After bring such darkness to your world?
Tragedy tightens his grip and holds your breath hostage — a crystal bubble of carbon dioxide. He steps away from you and offers his stolen treasure to the highest bidder, patiently waiting for Before, Present or After to pay the ransom to terminate your exhale.
Your soul stops breathing, but your body continues
“In the space, the pause, between this breath and the one that follows, you have made a home inside of me.” — Tyler Knott Gregson
This ransomed exhale records the dissolution of the life you once knew. It marks the unexpected ending of the precious moment in time where you were not weighted with the life-fracturing news that just cut your soul.
You are certain your soul is bleeding out and will never breathe again.
Refusing to inhale, which will relinquish control to After, you call out to Before for help. Your hesitation allows After to come closer. However, instead of the clear, iridescent bubble of oxygen he usually gifts you from his pocket, After’s outstretched hand holds a grey, cloudy sphere of toxin. You pinch your nose and seal your lips, shaking your head with refusal.
Rejected, After’s form morphs from the perfection and vibrancy you once knew to a contorted and grey figure. In a blink, he shrouds you in shapeless black.
The veil distorts all your senses and you wonder if there will ever be light and space for Present again. Her voice is muffled and distant, calling from inside. Or has she abandoned you on your own threshold?
As you fumble with the keys to the door of your own suffering, you threaten After with eviction, but then realize he and his friend are the only things holding you up.
Your limbs are numb and the keys to your front door drop from your hand into the crevice of the crumbling step that Before has reminded you to fix. After pulls out his keys and lets you in.
You find your footing and try to slam the door in their faces, but your protests and scrappy opposition are no match for their determination. You scramble toward Present, momentarily forgetting her deception. Behind you, the dark shapes of Tragedy and After blur in your doorway. You find your voice and scream for Before, who has appeared next to Present, but so has After.
You stumble, unsure you can trust any of them.
Present holds back After and allows Before to step forward and take her turn to catch you.
Obscured by darkness and the unknown, you strain to see the face of Before. You feel After ripping at your heels as he tries to separate you and himself from Present.
Tragedy is seated in your favorite chair, still holding your frozen bubble of breath, but you don’t have the energy to tell him to leave or any desire to steal it back.
Present is strong and purposeful on your behalf. She promises not to leave your side and will help you find an acceptable place for Tragedy to occupy. You doubt her capabilities and ignore her efforts.
After attempts to help you stand, but you push him away and fall again into the arms of Before.
Before lifts you to your feet and gives you the courage and fortitude for every uncertain step, for every measured but soulless breath. In the unbearable hours and days ahead, she rarely leaves your side. Without her companionship you would be unable to make arrangements for this unplanned and unwelcome gathering in recognition of Tragedy’s visit.
Sorrow’s Gathering
You know Tragedy must attend, along with his hand-selected guests: Grief, Fear, and Pain. You don’t invite After. He shows up anyway. You ignore him.
Before fails to shield you from Tragedy’s presence and you flinch each time you catch a glimpse of him lurking nearby.
As more guests arrive, Before, Present and After greet them at the door on your behalf. With noticeable hesitation, each guest acknowledges Present, but most ignore After. No one understands his unwavering acceptance of Tragedy. They show relief in embracing Before and then finally you.
A chair is the only thing holding you up and yet you resent the way it singles you out from the rest of the visitors.
Once all the guests have arrived, After lingers at the buffet table, one hand suspiciously concealed in his pocket, making you and your guests uncomfortable. He even boldly brings a small plate of condolences and compassion to Tragedy, now his only friend.
Before warms the room with stories and consoles the distraught with her presence. She has an endless supply of tissues for the tears and hugs for the heart. Before is now the favored guest.
After interrupts Before whenever she tries to speak and it seems every time you turn around now, he is shadowing you.
As witnesses to your suffering, those attending this gathering become polite dinner guests and whisper well-mannered words of comfort. They nod in After’s direction and speak to him if he approaches, but they spend a lot of time averting their eyes, gesturing and hoping he will stop trailing you. They foolishly wish they could make him leave.
They continue to seek out Before and the beautiful stories she tells. She stipples subtle colors of life’s memories into the passing hours. She encourages others to expand on her narratives, and not wanting to overstay her welcome, she transitions the spotlight to them. She even invites Present and After into the conversations, but After stays at the edges of the story-sharing circles. Before has a trusting acceptance of everyone, eventually sharing hugs of comfort with both Present and After.
You notice Before keeps checking the time and looking to her sofa-bed, covered with pictures and mementos from the guests. You overhear Present suggesting Before take After’s room for the night, but she humbly declines.
You have discreetly observed Present ever since the last guest arrived. She granted you your wish for distance, but she talked with ease to each guest. Much to your frustration, she even showed kindness and understanding to After and Tragedy. Without hesitation she drew them into conversations with other guests. Her encouraging words appeared to dissolve the discomfort and pain from the faces of those she spoke with.
You ache for some of that relief.
Before sits with you again, holding your hand but continuing to check the time.
You cling to her presence, fearing if she leaves she will take all the oxygen and welcomed guests in the room with her.
She leans in and whispers words from your childhood’s Peter Pan, “Wait for me somewhere between reality and all we’ve ever dreamed.”
As you float within her words, she lifts your hand interlaced with hers. This surprising gesture includes you in an invitation for Present to come closer.
The combined invitation brightens Present’s face, but her body strains to overcome the resistance of the obscured guest she is dragging behind her.
Is it Before’s turn to deceive you by encouraging Present’s approach?
You want to run away from Present, but your heart and lungs are empty and you have no idea where to go.
The breathless moment begins shaking the walls of the room with earthquake intensity. The guests are panicking and threatening to never return.
With unprecedented calm and without hints of jealousy, Before welcomes Present and makes room for her to stand in front of you.
Before’s comforting clasp loosens and because you have not taken a soul-reviving breath since Tragedy first arrived, you cannot hold on to Before any longer. You reluctantly release your grip on her.
Anticipating Before’s departure, your vision becomes a watery blur.
The room spins with light and dark. The confused guests become part of a formless swirl.
You are lost in a vast emptiness.
No longer able to bear witness to the gutting isolation and ravaged void, you close your eyes.
Spinning within the chaos, you reach for anything stable. Your desperate hands find others to grasp and a strange mix of warm comfort and cold tension washes over your intertwined fingers.
“There is nowhere to go. What you are looking for is right here. Open the fist clenched in wanting and see what you already hold in your hand.” — Oriah Mountain Dreamer
The room stills.
The silence feels almost as unbearable as the chaos.
Of the hands surrounding yours, you wonder if the cold grip belongs to Death, but it wrenches itself away as you open your eyes. As your vision clears, Before withdraws her warm hand from yours and rests it on your shoulder. She reassures you the remaining hand you hold is able to support you more than she can.
Through your now tattered veil, you study the last hand holding yours. It is warm, determined, and pulsing with peace.
Holding your hand and standing before you is Present.
Present’s Presence
“The meeting of two eternities, the past and the future…is precisely the present moment.” — Henry David Thoreau
You squint, trying to take in the light radiating from her, but uncertainty and fear make you look away. Can she be trusted after what she did the day Tragedy arrived?
You half-heartedly tug your hand, uncertain if you are attempting or risking freedom by retreating from the calming energy Present’s touch transmits.
Present’s body contorts as she fights to maintain her vise grip on the still obscured guest behind her and to not release or compromise the reassuring hold on your hand. But Present is losing her hold on both of you.
In one violent jerk, Present’s arm whiplashes and the concealed guest is revealed in a blizzard of biting wind.
After.
In the second of stillness, you assess each other.
Chilled energy radiates from him as he knows how unwelcome he is by you. He turns away and your lethal arrows of anger, disgust, and fear puncture his back.
His anguish passes through Present and vibrates through her hand to yours. In Present’s eyes you see your reflected spirit shrinking and fading.
Feeling betrayed again, you drop her hand and this time she doesn’t resist your rejection.
Despite the space between you and your once-trusted friends, their suffering becomes your suffering.
After is the one bleeding out now. And Present is losing color and strength.
Your chest tightens, unable to find one more molecule of your soul’s breath.
An intense and painful awareness seizes you.
Present is your reflection and After is Present’s shadow. After is part of her, an intrinsic essence of what makes her whole and gives her life. Without After, she, and you, will fracture and fade into shades of loss and incompleteness. Without spiritual breath you will all become shadows of a life that once was and could have been — an unmeasurable loss.
And just like Peter Pan had to recapture and reattach his rebellious shadow, Present is trying to do the same.
Peter Pan had Wendy’s help reattaching his shadow, and now Present needs your help to bring completeness to this moment.
Tragedy’s Gift
Present asks if you are willing to stop holding your soul’s breath.
Confused, you point at Tragedy and accuse him of stealing your breath when he first arrived. But the bubble of breath he had stolen from Present and had held all this time is no longer there. He points to your lap.
When did it appear there?
When your hands were joined with the others?
Before and Present rejoice at your understanding. Your heart and lungs warm in hopeful anticipation.
Can your last exhale, stolen and locked by Tragedy in a crystallized shell, be freed?
Will you then be finally able to take the critical, resuscitating inhale to keep your spirit alive?
Tragedy approaches and the bubble’s color begins to brighten and clear. His foul odor has dissipated to a waft of wet earth. Present doesn’t resist as Tragedy once again separates Present and After. Unexpectedly and with gentle compassion, Tragedy tells you it’s time to turn this moment’s breath over to Before. He then brings Present’s freed hand to yours.
“Always hold fast to the present. Every situation, indeed every moment, is of infinite value, for it is the representative of a whole eternity.” — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
You swallow hard, still uncertain. Then entrusting the thawing orb to Before, you cautiously nod to Present.
At Present’s command, the bubble releases its remaining light and colors to Before’s care. She lovingly reshapes it and places it at your side.
Before’s gift is a mosaic of memories waiting for your next breath to fill the empty space where your loved one once stood. Present steps aside to introduce a late-arriving guest.
You tremble with fear, but with your last ounce of strength, you offer a reserved nod to Present’s companion — Acceptance.
The First Space Between
Using Acceptance’s twin tools of Light and Time, Present widens the space between the expired exhale you turned over to Before and the unwelcome inhale you have been refusing from After.
Now there is enough room in this sacred space for Before, Present, After…and you.
You step closer to Present, and like light on an artist’s canvas, your own radiance reveals the details of her sibling shadows.
Before has transformed into the shape of your loved one — a watercolor shadow bonded to Present.
After has transformed into a similar, but graphite-shaded form. His hat is marbled with the colors of land and sky and sea.
Present moves forward and the two shadows briefly overlap.
You shift to get a better look, but After recoils and for the first time you notice fear in his face. He shrinks at your inquiry as to what he is hiding behind his back. You both look to Present for guidance.
Present turns just enough for the shadows and your perspective to change. Withdrawing his hand from his pocket, After extends his gift of condolence: a tiny bubble, an infant inhale.
But wait, you wonder, why is it no longer grey and cloudy like the day Tragedy arrived?
After seems equally surprised at the gift’s transformation.
You must decide if you will accept the breath’s bubble from After.
You cautiously lift your veil of grief and peek at the iridescent shape made from shuffling shades of color. It appears alive and eager to float from After to Present, traversing the gap where the two siblings were once joined.
Fear and denial ripple through you. Your shudder’s energy collides with the bubble making it bounce back to After as if it hit an invisible wall. It cannot pass through the gap between Present and After without your permission.
Only you can decide whether After will be permanently stitched to Present with the same love and gentleness that Peter Pan’s shadow was reattached by Wendy. It requires more than courage or acceptance; it requires seeds of trust.
Despite the uneasiness in your gut, you again nod to Present.
Without hesitation she presents you a golden needle and a spool of silver thread.
Still shrouded in uncertainty, you take the gifts from Present, but as you turn to After, Fear chases him through the gathering room’s doorway. Tragedy knocks you down as he follows After, but you are quick to your feet and even quicker in pursuit.
You cross the threshold first and forbid Fear and Tragedy to enter this new room. Tragedy is out of breath from his sprint, but he also appears anemic and fragile — no longer as intimidating as when he first showed up on your doorstep.
New Room for Change and Healing
Present joins you in the dark and uncomfortable room of suffocating loss where After waits. Before enters the room, but stands with Tragedy at the doorway.
After is no longer seeking escape. Instead he calls you closer, again presenting you with the pocket-sized bubble of breath that is expanding in size and intensifying with color.
Present steps next to After and reminds you of the needle in your hand.
You prick the bubble and begin a slow inhale.
Immediately an unfamiliar strength and forgotten knowledge guide your fingers as you thread the needle with the silver strand. Inhaling more deeply, you make three strong whipstitches — Present and After are forever joined.
Curious, you lift the shroud from your head and you ask Present to turn on the room’s lights. Continuing to inhale, you take in your first unveiled glimpse of a transformed After — contorted and unrecognizable from the day prior to Tragedy’s arrival. You have to look away.
Your inhale is complete. There is no more room in your lungs and you are once again frozen in time.
You are tempted to run to Before for comfort, but you now know that denying After’s existence is like trying to shake off your own shadow. It has been an impossible and exhausting undertaking ever since Tragedy arrived. Present has been consistently patient with your despairing attempts: both the immediate efforts and those she knows that will come later.
But Present also knows the costs of focusing too quickly on After once breath has returned, so she steps into your path. She reminds you of the life-renewing space between breaths and then places glasses of perspective over your eyes.
Present gently turns your gaze back toward After.
The Second Space Between
In this space, Present compassionately provides you with the multi-colored and interchangeable lenses of loss: sadness, fear, confusion, anger, despair, regret, denial, silence and sound. Explaining there is healing and value in each lens, she encourages and patiently waits as you witness the colors of your hardship. She does not judge as you accept, deny, or reject the perspective each brings.
Eventually, after the gift of seconds, and maybe even minutes, the space between Present’s breaths becomes consumed by thoughts and actions for After. Like a hungry infant, After won’t be ignored, but Present knows she must stop you from gorging on After’s baby breaths. Only Present can provide the nutrients your heart and soul need to keep functioning, and that means she must take After’s breaths, allow them to grow and mature in her hands before passing them along to you.
She offers you a larger, slightly misshapen and adolescent bubble. Clutching it to your chest, you accept its imperfections and gently squeeze it until it releases the oxygen from inside.
As you inhale, the circumstances, the memories, the answered and unanswered questions flow from you and wash over Present. The emotions, expressed or suppressed, mark your body and soul. Present encourages you to bear witness to the unbearable, indescribable feelings. Present suggests you let each one go with the understanding they may return in the next breath.
With Present you may be comforted and granted space to grieve. With Present you may be lifted in prayer by words you hear and by the energy of words spoken only in the hearts of those who have no words. With Present you may experience the tragedy in raw and ragged breaths as if this new moment is your first breath in After’s presence.
Lovingly, Present’s breath increases your awareness of the space between each inhale and exhale; the space where life and love flourish — a dance floor for joy and sorrow to share. Until Tragedy’s arrival, you rarely noticed this space. Present has shown you its importance, especially now. It is here where she feels and welcomes the weight of her shadows.
Before, Present, and After are eternally linked. The siblings are reunited. They are home.
It is also in this place and time where you begin to see After’s changed features more clearly.
After’s Transformation
After has transformed from infant to adolescent, complete with the blemishes and scars of Tragedy.
His playtime with Jealousy is less frequent.
After is purposeful and tenacious not out of a need for power or control, but because with time, he better understands his connection and value to Present. This reconnection allows After to appear in an instant, as if you have stepped into the sharp details of mid-day sun. Or he may arrive as a lengthening shadow on a disappearing day. Either entrance occurs quietly.
After is mindful of his own presence and doesn’t need immediate acknowledgement or awareness from you. He shows moments of unexpected maturity and reminds you that Present is where you should focus.
Present may assist your awareness of After’s presence with Acceptance’s help. Depending on Tragedy’s circumstances, you may decide to acknowledge After quickly. You may reluctantly but determinedly embrace After as you find clarity and healing in Before’s painful reflection of what once was.
Within Tragedy’s presence, After may boldly announce himself when the funeral/memorial/celebration of life is over — once the condolences, the remembrances, and the last sympathy card is received.
After may pinch you when you write your last thank you to the people who acknowledged your loss. After scrapes your soul on those occasions when there is an empty chair, a milestone memory, a faded picture, a familiar scent, or an unexpected silence. When After occasionally reverts to his adolescence, he squeezes and tears your heart, or pokes and irritates the original wound with each calendar milestone: favorite holidays, birthdays, anniversaries.
Time is not always gentle as you take your next breath.
After can overwhelm the Present in unanticipated moments. After can knock your breath into the next moment or extend the moment by cradling your heart in beloved memories with Before. After may fade in your immediate thoughts, but he is now inextricably connected to the Present — two sibling-friends who share a role in your journey.
Time holds the space for them to deepen their friendship.
The rest of the world will see only your Present. Your closest family and friends will be able to see your After for only so long before After becomes the unnoticed shadow of the Present. The hearts of a few will see the shadow. Some may recognize it by its shape — similar to the shadow of their own Present. Some may sense the shadow’s energy and respond with a hug or kind gesture, not even mentioning the shadow.
Each soul privileged to walk this planet will bear the blessings and the burdens of Before’s and After’s presence. Only Present can guide your steps and encourage you to embrace her ever-changing shadow named After.
Will you welcome the three siblings in all their painful and beautiful forms into your soul’s breath?
When you do, you will find your place in your soul’s home.
Welcome home.
Final Thoughts — Mental Gymnastics
“If there is no struggle, there is no progress.” — Frederick Douglass
“Being a gymnast means having the strength to hold on and the courage to let go.” — Jordyn Wieber
I wrote these words because I had to. Not because it was easy, but precisely because it was hard. I slogged through the challenging parts as my grey matter occasionally melted from overuse. I wrote it because it freed my mind and soul from the weight of its words and the fear of its freedom.