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Life does not always go 'my way'.
But I never get in the way
Of life not going 'my way'.
So life always goes my way.

I am the way of life.
Whichever way life goes, I go.

There is no way
That I can be separate from life's way.
Life IS the way.
So there is no 'way'.

I am life.

Life does not always go 'my way'.
But I never get in the way.
So life always goes my way.

Even when it doesn't.

- Jeff Foster
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2 days ago  ·  

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From the archives... ❤️ ... See MoreSee Less

2 days ago  ·  

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Looking forward to meeting some of you in London next weekend ❤️ ... See MoreSee Less

4 days ago  ·  

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I see you through the plane window as we descend. You have exploded into colour.

We met as the camps were liberated, didn’t we, in the rubble and the ash and the bone we met, we had lost everything but we had found each other, I saw your lioness heart and it pulled me in.

You stamped my ticket at a vaudeville show. An awkward moment of small talk, we could barely keep eye contact through the discomfort. Creation and destruction in your eyes. I looked for you afterwards but you were gone.

We followed Moses to the promised land. We had faith then. Great seas parted, unspeakable miracles. We built a family on new earth, raised our children.

Bright eyed, seventeen years of age, hope aflame, we marched off to war together and we never came home. We had wanted to save the world. I imagine our parents waiting there at the station, breathless, red-eyed, scanning all the young faces. They wait for us still.

I moistened your lips in a hospital room one evening. You were dying, the cancer was slowly eating away at your lungs. I recited Bible verse and you squeezed my hand.

“Bind me as a seal upon thy heart, love is as strong as death.”

Two thousand years later, a colony on Mars. I see you here in the dirt and the rock and the sunrise.

I have seen you in a million places.
I have met you in a million forms.

You were there at the formation of our solar system, you whispered to me something about love everlasting and then you fell from my grasp and everything turned to fire.

All the myths were always pointing to you. All the stories I told my children as they grew.
“Tell us that one again, Daddy. The one about the sweet friends who kept meeting.”
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”

We have been male and female, vegetable and stone, formless and form, the swallow and the eagle, the snake and the gazelle, fantastic creatures of the deep. We have been crucified, whipped, tied to posts and burnt, draped in gold and silver jewels and lauded by the world and derided in turn. We have faced the firing squad together, our bodies pressed close one last time, flesh to flesh as we became vessels for spirit.

You have been my brother, my sister, my child. I have mothered you from infancy, and you have mothered me in return. We have been lovers and friends, we have recognised each other in countless disguises, here on the same side and there on different sides. And in the end there were no sides at all, only this magnificent Loop, this One Circle - majestic, resplendent, regal, unbroken through time, utterly mysterious, and towering over all things.

These pages are wet with tears now, thinking of you, remembering your many faces, the ink is running, the words are fading, I will lose this poem if I do not stop writing.

No matter. You are in me, and I in you.

We will meet again.

- Jeff Foster
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4 days ago  ·  

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Friend, please,
Do not try to decide now.
Do not shut any possibility out of your heart.

Honour this place of not-knowing.
Bow before this bubbling mess of creativity.

Slow down. Breathe.
Sink into wonderment.
Befriend the very place where you stand.

Any decision will make itself, in time.
Any choice will happen when your defences are down.
Answers will appear only when they are ready.
When the questions have been fully honoured, and loved.

Do not label this place 'indecision'.
It is more alive than that.
It is a place where possibilities grow.
It is a place where uncertainty is sacred.

There is courage in staying close.
There is strength in not knowing.

Friend, please know,
There is simply no choice now.

Except to breathe, and breathe again,
And trust this Intelligence beyond mind.

- Jeff Foster
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6 days ago  ·  

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this awkward love

give me your awkwardness, my love, your shy and quivering heart, give me your shakiness and your sweat and your fluttering too. give me all that is unholy in you, your fear, your sin, the childhood desolation you keep hidden, just let me touch what is human in you and you shall touch what is human in me for I am as broken as you, as far from the light and as close to it still. human, yes - unfinished, flawed, ragged and worn and weary we are, yet when we touch each other authentically god is here, human as divinity, formlessness as form.

so every dance begins and ends with stillness, so every love that is true must first pass through the devastated and unlovable places within on its way to the heart core. i cannot love you if I do not see you and I cannot be loved by you if I am not seen so let us risk infinite loneliness and psychological death for one moment of true communion.

give me your awkwardness my love, give me your fear of silence and your unwillingness to meet and let us begin our dance, a dance that only we know, a song that only we can sing, and we cannot know it before we begin, so we must begin to know it. trembling, confused, yes, ready to flee of course but so alive, here on the precipice.

no, i do not write love poetry, I have no taste for romance, yet I should like the world to take us as we are now and render us into the most exquisite song. i think we are worthy of that, you and i, becoming the most exquisite song, beautiful and awkward and true and unfinished, yet capable of changing the world.

- jeff foster
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7 days ago  ·  

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We are all Jesus at Gethsemane.
Jesus is a metaphor for Consciousness itself, and its passing identification with form.

We all face these moments of existential and spiritual crisis.
We wrestle with conflicting demands of inner demons and gods, symbols of the unconscious.
We are called to face suffering - disillusionment, decay, even death.

Do we resist the Way of Things, or surrender to them?
Do we remain enslaved by the ego, trapped in its hopes and fears, or do we submit to Life, give in to the great Mystery?

My Will, or Thy Will? Which will be done?

Do we remain identified with the body-mind and its passing pleasures, or do we come to celebrate the source of Eternal Life - within?

"Nail me to your cross and break me!"
In other words, break me open to love, oh Mystery (that I Am),
and destroy the false in me, and reveal my true nature.

This mythic journey will never die. It is written in our DNA.

You don't have to be Christian to have compassion for the Christ, for (s)he is within you, prior to the very first thought, before the world.

- Jeff Foster
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1 week ago  ·  

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Friends! A quick question/request. Could you summarise what my work/words/videos/sharings/meditations/poems have given you, or illuminated for you, or how they have helped you, in just a FEW short words? Like, 10 words maximum? Very VERY grateful! Thank youuuuu 🥰🥰🥰 Jeff x

*Update: It’s been a few minutes since I posted this and I’m already overwhelmed by your beautiful responses. Wow. Thank you.*

*Another update: It's been an hour and I am TOTALLY overwhelmed by and beyond grateful for your unexpectedly beautiful feedback. I just had no idea how deeply my sharings continue to touch so many of you. (Well I say 'my' sharings, but ultimately the words emerge from the Mystery that I am, the same Mystery that YOU all are, that the Universe itself is!) Wow. THANK YOU, FRIENDS! <3 <3 *
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1 week ago  ·  

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Come join me LIVE in London, 25-26 January. Link in comments 🥰 ... See MoreSee Less

1 week ago  ·  

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There is no holy book except
the one you write with each breath,
dictated through inspiration,
printed through exhalation,
the book you walk, step by step,
stepping to work, or to pick up the kids,
the book whistled out loud in the clean
clear air of the morning, no matter
who listens or does not listen, the
birds as your loyal congregation,
the lonely ones at the bus stop,
still waiting, the clouds still and solid
in their Amen.

There is no religion except this mystery,
recognising the other as oneself,
fighting for the flame you cannot ignore
or extinguish or believe
(too close to believe),
the thing burning with truth
behind every pair of eyes,
a fight won even before the world.

The answer is reflected
in the question, always.

There is no God except
the merciful God of the

Too vast to contemplate.
Too close to believe.

- Jeff Foster
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1 week ago  ·  

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through the membrane of the visible world
i witness the invisible

the glorious One, the unspeakable One,
shining through the shattered forms of temporality

others may see a solid world,
i see a portal to god
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1 week ago  ·  

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Sometimes things don’t go our way. A loved one dies. An unexpected result comes. A relationship falls apart in a way we never could have foreseen. An infection returns. A business venture dissolves overnight. An attack comes out of the blue, shattering a body or a dream, or both. Something that seemed so solid and real yesterday turns out to be much less than what it seemed.

And a part of us cracks open. For a moment, all of our mind-made defences crumble. We are new-borns again, no longer invulnerable to the overwhelming glory and horror of creation. We are faced with the awesomeness of own impotence before the vastness of the cosmos, without the protection of ego. For a moment, we touch and our touched by the unfathomable mystery underlying all things. Impermanence bursts through the gaps in an outdated reality, and the sheer groundlessness of existence, the uncontrollability of events, the unpredictability of our emotional world, becomes obvious once again. Our eyes are open. Ancient teachings are alive. What is born must die. What is here will soon be gone. The very ground we stand on can open up at any moment. There is nowhere truly safe to stand. What is real? What can be trusted in this life? What is worth living for?

And we recoil. It’s all too much, the hugeness of experience. Quick, get back to normal. Quick, grab onto something solid, something manageable. Fix something. Seek something. Control something. Get a grip on something. Get an answer. Medicate. Work it all out. Distract yourself - with substances, with religion, with platitudes, with more and more and more experience.

Rather than face the unexplored terrors lurking in the deep, we fix our eyes once again on the surfaces. We shut out the greater terror of an uncontrollable existence by focussing on the things in life we think we have some control over. We block out our pain, and try to get back to normal, back to work, back to ‘reality’.

But normality is the problem, not the solution, and the old reality was too limited anyway. Life, in its infinite intelligence, was only trying to crack us open. We had become too small, too limited, too numb, too preoccupied with our own lives, trapped in our own stories, lulled to sleep by the comforts of modernity. In our pursuit of the positive, we had buried all that we had come to see as negative – the pain, the sorrows, the longings, the fears, the terrors, the paradoxes. These very natural energies we had pushed into the deep so that we could function, and be productive, and ‘fit in’. We thought we were ‘happy’. Yet our happiness had become so contingent, and our joy so dependent, and our contentment so very superficial. It was the kind of contentment that could break apart at any moment. And it did, for life seeks wholeness and nothing less.

And we are being called now to question everything. Everything.
Pain is not a block to healing, but a doorway. Grief is not a mistake but a portal. Even anger contains a path. And our deepest longings are not faults, but parts of ourselves that just want to be met.

Wounds open to be healed, held, be given loving attention.

Our suffering and the suffering of loved ones can often seem so random, so meaningless, so pointless, so cruel, so uncontrollable, and we rush to cover up our pain, hide it, deny it, or just pretend that we are ‘over’ it. As spiritual seekers, we may pretend that we have gone beyond, or transcended, or even completely annihilated our humanness. That we are invulnerable. That we feel nothing anymore except unending bliss. That we are so very enlightened, so very perfect.

But in the end you cannot hide yourself from yourself, because on some level you always know exactly where you’ve hidden yourself. The 'enlightened me’ is the greatest lie of all. Where would the ‘unenlightened me’ hide?

No experience is inherently traumatic, no experience is truly unmanageable, but sometimes experiences can release volcanic energies in ourselves that we had repressed, pushed down, refused to integrate in our rush to be a consistent and solid and normal ‘self’. In trying to hold ourselves together, we had actually torn ourselves apart.

And now life has come to the rescue, with its love of wholeness. The terrors, the rages, the confusion, the unfathomable joys that we were never able to hold, have been released. Sometimes life triggers an explosion in us… and we rush to contain ourselves again.

Here is an invitation to remain uncontained a little while longer. Be a little more inconsistent, a little more of a mess. There is dignity in falling apart.

Bow to all of the ancient energies that are now flowing through you. An old life is falling away, a new life has not yet coagulated, and you stand now on holy ground, full of raging life and possibility, broken open but alive to these lost parts of yourself, in touch with joys and pains you thought you would never feel again, energies you had repressed since childhood or even before.

Your suffering is not a mistake, or a punishment, and ultimately it is not even yours. We all suffer. We all get ill, get old, and die, at least in our physical forms, and our physical forms are holy. We all experience loss, and wonder why. We all lose control, or wonder if we ever had control. We are all faced with situations we never would have planned, choices we never wanted to make, things that seem unwanted now, circumstances that just feel ‘wrong’.

But in the midst of the unwanted, if we can slow down, and breathe, and come out of the story of “how it was supposed to be”, and turn towards the present moment, we may find things that are okay, even wanted, even sacred, even healing. And we may begin to realize that we are not alone in our struggle. We are connected to all of humanity. Our suffering is our rite of passage, and many others have been on this journey. We walk in the footsteps of our ancestors. We are being invited to love ourselves even more fiercely, connect with our breath more deeply, feel the kind of compassion for ourselves and each other that we never would have felt if things had continued to ‘go our way’. Whose way, anyway? And why did we expect that things would continue to go our way, in a world of impermanence and constant change? Did we really believe that we were in charge? Can a wave control the vastness of the ocean? Did we lose our humility, our sense of proportion?

We are not in control. Everything is dying from the moment it is born, as the Buddha taught. Everything is made of crystal. And therein lies our greatest sorrow and deepest depression, but also our greatest potential for joy and liberation. We learn to get out of our own way, and embrace the way things really are. We learn to love life as it is, and let go of our outdated fantasies. We learn that real joy is not an escape from pain, but the willingness to feel it, and real contentment means opening ourselves up to even the most profound grief. If we can touch our own sorrows, we can touch the sorrows of all humanity. This is not wallowing, or indulging – this is waking up, the opening of eyes, the birth of true compassion.

We allow even our deepest traumas to teach us about love, and compassion, and slowness, and remind us of the preciousness of each and every moment of life. We allow life to break our hearts wide open to Truth. Everything is burning, as the Buddha taught, and to cling to outdated pictures of reality only breeds great sorrow.

We knew so much, and now we know less, and that is not a loss, but our freedom. And there is something within us that is never traumatised, something ever-present and trustworthy, something that survives even the most intense sensations, that holds and releases trauma as the heart pumps its blood…

- Jeff Foster
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2 weeks ago  ·  

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Our moves never have to be choreographed.
They are our own.
Our dance is never 'bad' when it comes from the heart.
There is so much grace in our awkwardness!
So much beauty in our authentic self-expression.
As we grieve, we begin to dance for ourselves again.
Like a child.
Only for ourselves. Nobody is watching. Nobody cares.
The ultimate heartbreak, the ultimate freedom.
Thank you Spike Jonze, Greta Gerwig, Arcade Fire.
I LOVE this. ❤️
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2 weeks ago  ·  

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latest tweets

wonderofbeing @wonderofbeing
I’m looking forward to meeting some of you in London next weekend ❤️
Join me live in London next weekend ❤️
We are all Jesus at Gethsemane. Jesus is a metaphor for Consciousness itself, and its passing identification with…
Friends! A quick question/request. Could you summarise what my work/words/videos/sharings/meditations/poems have gi…
Come join me LIVE in London, 25-26 January 😍
THE SACRED HEART OF TRAUMA Sometimes things don’t go our way. A loved one dies. An unexpected result comes. A rela…
Our moves never have to be choreographed. They are are own. Our dance is never 'bad' when it comes from the gut. Th…