I like the idea of boundaries. Once set they allow me to relax. The stuff outside a boundary “just is”, these constraints need understanding and exploring but there is no need for me to try and change them. So I found this joke (in Debt: The First 5,000 Years  by David Graeber) offered some interesting insight, it also brings forth fond memories of my mountain biking adventures in the Pyrannes which are hosted in Hondarribia/Hendaye on the French/Spanish border. 

There was a small town located along the frontier between Russia and Poland; no one was ever quite sure to which it belonged. One day an official treaty was signed and not long after, surveyors arrived to draw a border. Some villagers approached them where they had set up their equipment on a nearby hill. “So where are we, Russia or Poland?” “According to our calculations, your village now begins exactly thirty-seven meters into Poland.”
The villagers immediately began dancing for joy. “Why?” the surveyors asked. “What difference does it make?” “Don’t you know what this means?” they replied. “It means we’ll never have to endure another one of those terrible Russian winters!”

Boundaries are all well and good, but they are unlikely to be black and white. However it does reinforce another thought that is currently colouring my view of things. That is the really interesting stuff doesn’t happen in the middle, it happens at the margins, at the boundary.