Falling in Love with Where You Are , livre ebook

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As we open up to life and love and each other, as we awaken from our dream of separation, we encounter not just the bliss of existence, but its pain, too; not only life’s ecstasy, but also its agony. Healing doesn’t always feel good or comfortable or even “spiritual,” for we are inevitably forced to confront our shadows, fears, and deepest longings—those secret parts of ourselves that we have denied, repressed, or deemed “negative” and unworthy of our love. How can we find the calm in the midst of the storm? How can we rest, even as the ground falls? Falling in Love with Where You Are invites you to discover a deep YES to your life, no matter what you are going through; to see crisis as an opportunity to heal, pain as an intelligent messenger, and your imperfections as perfectly placed. Through his prose and poetry, Jeff Foster will guide, provoke, encourage, and inspire you on your lonely, joyful, and sometimes exhausting pathless journey to the Home you never, ever left: the present moment. “Even in your glorious imperfection,” Jeff reminds us, “you were always a perfect expression of life, a beloved child of the universe, a complete work of art, unique in all the world...”



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Date de parution

01 janvier 0001

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9781626256415

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English

Poids de l'ouvrage

6 Mo

FALLING IN LOVE WITH WHERE YOU ARE
A Year of Prose and Poetry On Radically Opening Up To the Pain and Joy of Life c Jeff Foster
NonDuality Press
For Sherîe, orever în my heart.
FALLING IN LOVE W ITH W HERE YOU ARE First English edition published December 2013 byNonDuality Press
© Jeff Foster 2013 © NonDuality Press 2013
Cover design from an idea by Nic Higham. Layout by John Gustard. Author portrait (back cover) by Liya Matiosova: www.matiosova.book.fr
Jeff Foster has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as author of this work. All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the Publisher.
ISBN:9781908664396
NonDuality Press| PO Box 2228 | Salisbury | SP2 2GZ United Kingdom
CONTENTS
Foreword ·v Author’s Notevii ·
JANUARY · 1 FEBRUARY · 19 MARCH · 39 APRIL · 59 MAY · 77 JUNE · 91 JULY · 109 AUGUST · 123 SEPTEMBER · 139 OCTOBER · 153 NOVEMBER · 173 DECEMBER · 187
ï wî not orget you.
ï have hed you în the pam o my hand.
– Isaiah 49: 15-16
The bad news îs you’re aîng through the aîr,
nothîng to hang on to, no parachute.
The good news îs there’s no ground.
– Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche
FOREWORD
ïn your hands you hod the potentîa or a tota re-orderîng o your îe as you know ît. ïn my work în the pubîshîng îndustry over the ast 20+ years, ï’ve had the rare opportunîty to get to know and work wîth hundreds o the word’s most respected and reaîsed spîrîtua teachers, psychoogîsts, psychotherapîsts, neuroscîentîsts and artîsts. From tîme to tîme, a new voîce comes onto the scene unortunatey or a o us not oten enough – wîth somethîng that îs uttery aîve, emergîng out o the unknown, openîng a porta înto the ever deepenîng mysterîes o ove. Jef Foster îs one o these voîces. Over the ast ew years, ï have contînued to be înspîred by Jef, both as a wrîter and someone who cares deepy about the îves o those around hîm. ï have wîtnessed Jef sîttîng wîth those în deep despaîr, proound ear and ragîng anxîety – even on the brînk o suîcîde – struggîng wîth what ît reay means to be a human beîng. ï have aso seen Jef meet the most devoted spîrîtua seekers, creatîng a home or them to come to rest, Inay, rom the wearîness that seekîng spîrîtua enîghtenment so oten brîngs. ïn each o these meetîngs – through hîs words, through hîs sîence, and through hîs ovîng attunement – Jef shares the gît o presence, wîsdom, carîty and kîndness, never gîvîng up on the precîousness and potentîa o each and every unîque person, and o the very human journey îtse. As so many have observed over the ast ew decades, whîe the word’s great nondua spîrîtua teachîngs ofer a vîsîon o crysta carîty înto the true nature o the eterna Se beyond that whîch comes and goes, these very same tradîtîons can become stae, worn out, second-hand, and just, we, înhuman. We sometîmes orget that the essence o spîrîtuaîty îs a cosmîc embrace o the
— v —
reatîve, the dua, the very messy, stîcky, gooey nature o human îe. The îght we seek îs not ‘esewhere’, but aready shînîng through the appearance o a separate se, pourîng out o our întî-mate reatîonshîps and îumînatîng our most dîsturbîng eeîngs and emotîons. As Jef reveas so ceary and provocatîvey, îght îs aîve even în the darkness. One o the most împortant contrîbutîons Jef makes to the spîrîtua conversatîon îs hîs uncompromîsîng demand that we honour our humanîty and that we take the rîsk o seeîng how sacred “ordînary îe” reay îs. ï whoe-heartedy recommend thîs ovey new book o poetry and prose, and sîncerey hope that through Jef’s words – and through the space between them – you come to see the magnîIcence that you are, and begîn to consîder the rea possîbîîty that you’ve never actuay et Home.
Matt îcata, Ph.D. (aovîngheaîngspace.bogspot.com) Bouder, Coorado October 2013
— vi —
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Who knows who wrote that song o summer
the backbîrds sîng at dusk? Thîs îs a song o coour,
where sands sîng în crîmson, red and rust,
then cîmb înto bed and turn to dust....
– Kate Bush,Sunset
Why do ï wrîte books about the wordess essence o îe? Why do ï try to say the unsayabe? Perhaps ‘why’ îs the wrong questîon. ït seems that the deeper the înner sîence, the more naturay and efortessy the words Low, Inay îberated rom theîr shackes, set ree rom the prîson o conormîty and correctness and the need to be îked or even heard. Out o purest stîness, thîs deîcîous musîc erupts, these creatîve and payu notes o myse, vîbrant expressîons o that pre-verba sîence at the core o everythîng, învîtîng you to întî-macy wîth your present moment, here and now. My words are your words are the words o îe îtse, ever oferîng themseves în remembrance o that whîch îs never gone and îs endessy shînîng. ï do not wrîte nor speak by myse, or myse, nor am ï myse wrîtten or spoken, ï can ony remaîn radîcay open to the unexpected eruptîon o words. ï am a house, ready or the chîdren who ca me Home to come runnîng back rom schoo, theîr cheeks rosy and stufed u o chocoate and expectatîon, and ready to et them go, as they Inay eave or destînatîons and adventures unknown.
— vii —
ït’s îke askîng the backbîrds why they sîng în summer. Frîend, î you are experîencîng stress, sorrow, physîca or emo-tîona paîn în your îe rîght now, ît doesn’t mean that your îe îs goîng wrong, that you are broken and sînu, that you have aîed as a human or spîrîtua beîng, or that you are ar rom awaken-îng. You may just be heaîng în your own orîgîna and unexpected way. Sometîmes we need to ee worse or a whîe. Sometîmes the od structures, thîngs that we once deIned and îdentîIed as ‘me’, need to crumbe. Sometîmes we need to be brought to our knees beore we can stand agaîn. Sometîmes îusîons need to dîe. Sometîmes our sacred pans and hopes, our schemes and dreams o “how thîngs were goîng to turn out”, need to burn to ashes on the ruthess yet utîmatey compassîonate bonIre o the present moment. As we open up to îe and ove and heaîng, as we awaken rom our dream o separateness, we meet not just the bîss o exîstence, but aso îts paîn; not ony the ecstasy o îe, but îts agony too. Awakenîng doesn’t aways ee good or comortîng or bîssu or ‘spîrîtua’, or we are înevîtaby orced to conront our deepest ears and darkest shadows – those parts o ourseves that we have cut-of, denîed, repressed, numbed ourseves to a these years, and the meetîng can get messy to say the east. But eventuay we come to trust the process o no process at a. We earn to see even our deepest sorrow as an înteîgent movement o îe, not a threat to îe. We remember that we are vast enough to hod a o ît – the good and the bad, the paîn and the peasure, the îght and the dark, the agony and the ecstasy. We are not neary as îmîted as we once îmagîned. We are îe îtse. Faîng ïn ove Wîth Where You Are ofers a sîmpe but radî-ca învîtatîon: Stop waîtîng or the word to make you happy. Stop makîng your înner joy dependent on externa thîngs – objects, peope, cîrcumstances, experîences, events – that are out o your
— viii —
dîrect contro rîght now. Stop payîng the happîness ottery. Gîve yourse a break rom seekîng and dîscover the natura happîness that you are and have aways been, the în-buît contentment that doesn’t depend on îe’s ever-changîng ‘content’. The prose and poetry în thîs book, harvested rom two years’ worth o journa entrîes and Facebook posts, îs desîgned to guîde, chaenge, encourage and perhaps înspîre you on your oney, paînu, ecstatîc, crazy, exhaustîng, bîssu and conusîng pathess journey to the Home that you never, ever abandoned: the present moment. Read the oowîng pages sowy, mînduy. Spend tweve months soakîng everythîng în, medîtatîng on the words as the seasons change wîthîn and around you. Or, whenever the mood takes you, aow the book to a open at a random page. et the words în thîs book îve wîth you, month ater month, year ater year. Fee the sîence, the presence, the warmth underneath the words, în-between the words, surroundîng the words, hodîng the words. et go o the destînatîon. Savour the ever-changîng seasons o your journey. Be present to each step. Remember to breathe. Know that you do not wak aone. Wîth ove, Jef Foster
Brîghton, Engand September 2013
— ix —
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