You Were Always In Safe Hands, Episode 39
Here’s ‘In Safe Hands’, the 39th episode of Turning Towards Life, a weekly live 30 minute conversation hosted by thirdspace coaching in which Justin Wise and Lizzie Winn 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.
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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?)
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