You were always in safe hands

Here’s ‘In Safe Hands’, the 39th episode of Turning Towards Life, a weekly live 30 minute conversation hosted by thirdspace coaching in which Lizzie Winn and I dive deep into big questions of human living.

This week we begin with a poem by Jeff Foster which makes the radical suggestion that what we’re trying to get to, and what we’re trying to run from, obscure a simple and vital truth: that we’ve misunderstood what we are. And that what we need is right here, just where we are, waiting for us.

Along the way we talk about what it is to find language for that part of human experience that is, essentially, unsayable. And we remind ourselves that while we’re often far away from ourselves it’s always in returning home that healing happens.

You can join our members-only facebook group for live conversation and community here.

Here’s the source for this week’s conversation, written by Jeff Foster.

In Safe Hands

You get tired of half-truths, don’t you? 
You get tired of pretending 
You get tired of the world’s promises 
You get tired of… waiting. 
You even get tired of getting tired.

You get tired of ‘you’ – 
The one who ‘gets tired of’.

A divine disillusionment 
And a great paradox – 
For who gets tired of whom?

In the midst of despair 
You find yourself staring life in the face 
Naked and unprotected 
in front of its sacredness. 
And for the first time 
(For whatever reason) 
You do not turn away.

It breaks you open 
It shatters your dreams 
It burns up your certainty. 
Even your dreams of enlightenment 
do not stand a chance.

You shit yourself with fear 
You cry out for help 
(Why has it forsaken you?)

And then 
For the the first time 
You feel deeply alive 
Undivided from life itself 
Resting in the arms of the One 
you always sought 
Unprotected yet utterly safe 
Free at last 
Free at last.

It destroys the one you thought you were 
But it never touches the One you are.

This is the road less travelled, they say 
A road leading not to the future 
Not to the promised land 
But to the one reading these words now

To the one who knew all along 
That all along this road’s ancient edges 
lies the shed skin of lost identities and unkept promises.

Clean yourself up, my friend 
You were always in safe hands.

– Jeff Foster

Photo Credit: Meanest Indian Flickr via Compfight cc

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