Méditer, jour après jour : 25 leçons pour vivre en pleine conscience (+ 1CD mp3 inclus)

May 26, 2018

• Title English : “Meditate, day after day: 25 lessons to live in full consciousness (+ 1CD mp3 included)”
• Author : Christophe André
• Pages : 304 Sheet
• Publisher : L’Iconoclaste [The Iconoclast] (September 22, 2011)
Collection : psychologie
• ISBN-10: 2913366376
• ISBN-13: 978-2913366374
Product Dimensions : 15,2 x 2 x 22 cm
• Format Kindle : PDF, Paperback, DOCx and ePUB
• Price : 24,90 FREE !!!
• Rating : ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  7/10

DescriptionExtract – First there is that intense yellow light of a winter sun shining outside. A sun that dazzles without warming. Then we discover the old man motionless. He turned away from his desk and the book he was studying: to think? To rest ? Meditate? Our eyes then slide to the right and notice the low door of the cellar. Then he is attracted by the spiral staircase. As he prepares to climb the first steps, he discovers the fire crackling in the hearth and a woman stoking the embers. He returns to the flight of the steps: but they lead only to darkness.
The painting is small, the place it depicts is dark, but one has the feeling of a vast space. It is the genius of Rembrandt, who makes our eyes travel in all dimensions. In width, from the left, from where the daylight shines, to the right, where the fire is fragile, almost derisory; the dialogue of a sun that lights without warming and a fire that warms without lighting; sun of reason and fire of passion, two ingredients for philosophizing? In height, with this spiral staircase that connects secret depths of the cellar and obscure mysteries of the floor. In depth, from the back of the painting where the philosopher sits to the circle of darkness that surrounds him. But the sense of space also comes from the subtle game between the unveiled and the hidden. What matters is what we imagine: on the other side of the window, behind the cellar door, at the top of the stairs. And the largest of these universes hidden from our eyes that have passed too quickly: the spirit of the philosopher, his inner world. Darkness and darkness, a little light, a little heat. And a spirit on the move. Is this what our interiority looks like?

To meditate is to stop

Stop doing, stir, fidget. Put yourself a little behind, stay away from the world.
At first, what we feel seems odd: there is emptiness (of action, distraction) and fullness (tumult of thoughts and sensations of which we are suddenly aware). There is what we miss: our landmarks and things to do; and, after a while, there is the appeasement that comes from this lack. Things do not happen as “outside”, where our mind is always attached to some object or project: to act, to think about a specific subject, to have his attention captured by a distraction.
In this apparent non-action of the meditative experience, it takes time to get used to, to see a little more clearly. As in the table. Like when you go from light to shade. We entered into ourselves, for real. It was very close to us, but we never went there. We were rather out in the open: in our time of unbridled solicitations and furious connections, our connection to ourselves often remains fallow. Abandoned interiority … the exteriorities are easier, and more marked. While the meditative experience is often a land without trails. In the room where the philosopher meditates, there is less light, so you have to open your eyes bigger. In ourselves too: there is less evidence and reassurance, so we have to open up the eyes of our minds more.
We thought, we hoped to find calm, emptiness. We often come across a big bazaar, noise, chaos. We yearned for clarity, we found confusion. Sometimes meditating exposes us to anguish, suffering, pain, and avoidance when we think about something else, moving about elsewhere.

Newspaper – First there is that intense yellow light of a winter sun shining outside. A sun that dazzles without warming. Then we discover the old man motionless. He turned away from his desk and the book he was studying: to think? To rest ? Meditate? Our eyes then slide to the right and notice the low door of the cellar. Then he is attracted by the spiral staircase. As he prepares to climb the first steps, he discovers the fire crackling in the hearth and a woman stoking the embers. He returns to the flight of the steps: but they lead only to darkness.
The painting is small, the place it depicts is dark, but one has the feeling of a vast space. It is the genius of Rembrandt, who makes our eyes travel in all dimensions. In width, from the left, from where the daylight shines, to the right, where the fire is fragile, almost derisory; the dialogue of a sun that lights without warming and a fire that warms without lighting; sun of reason and fire of passion, two ingredients for philosophizing? In height, with this spiral staircase that connects secret depths of the cellar and obscure mysteries of the floor. In depth, from the back of the painting where the philosopher sits to the circle of darkness that surrounds him. But the sense of space also comes from the subtle game between the unveiled and the hidden. What matters is what we imagine: on the other side of the window, behind the cellar door, at the top of the stairs. And the largest of these universes hidden from our eyes that have passed too quickly: the spirit of the philosopher, his inner world. Darkness and darkness, a little light, a little heat. And a spirit on the move. Is this what our interiority looks like?

To meditate is to stop

Stop doing, stir, fidget. Put yourself a little behind, stay away from the world.
At first, what we feel seems odd: there is emptiness (of action, distraction) and fullness (tumult of thoughts and sensations of which we are suddenly aware). There is what we miss: our landmarks and things to do; and, after a while, there is the appeasement that comes from this lack. Things do not happen as “outside”, where our mind is always attached to some object or project: to act, to think about a specific subject, to have his attention captured by a distraction.
In this apparent non-action of the meditative experience, it takes time to get used to, to see a little more clearly. As in the table. Like when you go from light to shade. We entered into ourselves, for real. It was very close to us, but we never went there. We were rather out in the open: in our time of unbridled solicitations and furious connections, our connection to ourselves often remains fallow. Abandoned interiority … the exteriorities are easier, and more marked. While the meditative experience is often a land without trails. In the room where the philosopher meditates, there is less light, so you have to open your eyes bigger. In ourselves too: there is less evidence and reassurance, so we have to open up the eyes of our minds more.
We thought, we hoped to find calm, emptiness. We often come across a big bazaar, noise, chaos. We yearned for clarity, we found confusion. Sometimes meditating exposes us to anguish, suffering, pain, and avoidance when we think about something else, moving about elsewhere.”