Hi Everyone 👋 Some days the practice is easy. The breath comes, the mind settles, and there's a bit of space around things. Those days are lovely. They're also not the point. The point is the days when it all feels impossible. When you're low, or ashamed, or so tired you can't remember what calm ever felt like. When sitting down to meditate feels like the last thing on earth you want to do. Those are the days the practice is actually for. The Buddha didn't teach mindfulness for people who already had it together. He taught it for people in the middle of the mess—grief, regret, fear, confusion. The whole path is designed for exactly the state you're in right now. So here's what I'd offer, from one imperfect practitioner to another. On the hard days, lower the bar. Not as a compromise. As wisdom. Three breaths is a full practice. Noticing you're clenching your jaw is a full practice. Saying "this is hard" and meaning it is a full practice. Putting your hand on your chest for ten seconds is a full practice. You don't have to feel peaceful. You just have to show up, however briefly, however badly. The practice isn't the feeling. It's the turning towards. The Tao abides in non-action, yet nothing is left undone. Even three breaths count. Especially three breaths. With Love ❤️ Always Mark

Hi Everyone 👋 A few years back I sat with a mother who told me she'd stopped taking her son to the supermarket. Not because of the meltdowns—she'd learned to ride those out. Because of the looks. The sighs. The woman who said, loud enough to be heard, "he'd behave if you were firmer." She wasn't complaining about her son. She was complaining about the world's insistence that he be somebody else. That's the thing nobody warns you about. The exhaustion isn't only the child. It's the constant, grinding work of explaining, defending, advocating, absorbing judgment, and holding your child steady while you're being knocked off balance yourself. Add a job, a course, a calling, and you've got a nervous system running on fumes and guilt. There's a very old story that speaks to this. Zhuangzi, the other great Daoist, the more mischievous one, tells of a carpenter called Shi who walks past an enormous oak tree growing at a shrine. It's vast, ancient, branches spreading out over hundreds of oxen. Everyone else is gawping at it. Shi doesn't even look. His apprentice asks why. Shi says: it's useless. Bad wood. You couldn't build a boat, a coffin, a door out of it. Good for nothing, which is why it's lived so long. That night the oak appears to him in a dream and gives him a bit of a telling off. What are you comparing me to? You're comparing me to the useful trees—the pear, the orange, the apple. They bear fruit, and then they're picked at, torn at, broken. They don't live out their years. I've spent a very long time learning to be useless. If I'd been useful, I'd have been cut down long ago. Zhuangzi's point isn't that uselessness is noble in some sentimental way. It's that the world has a very narrow idea of what a thing is for, and anything that doesn't fit gets hacked about until it does—or gets discarded. Your child doesn't fit the world's idea. Neither, probably, do you. The world looks at an autistic child and sees a set of deficits to be corrected. The world looks at a burnt-out mother and sees someone not coping. Neither is the truth. Both are the world's narrowness wearing the mask of common sense.

Hi Everyone 👋 I've been thinking about what to share this weekend. I've been thinking about how heavy the world feels sometimes. The wars. The Suffering. The poverty. The sickness. The burnout. The fear. When we see suffering, our instinct is to turn away. To protect our hearts. To build a bubble. And that's fine for a while. But eventually, the bubble gets too small. There's an ancient practice called Tonglen. It sounds heavy, but it's actually the most freeing thing I know. Instead of breathing in peace and breathing out stress like we usually do in meditation, Tonglen flips it. You breathe in the pain, and you breathe out the relief. Here's how it works. You think of someone who is struggling. Maybe it's a friend who is burnt out. Maybe it's a stranger on the street. Maybe it's you. As you breathe in, you imagine taking in their suffering. You breathe in the dark, heavy smoke of their pain. You don't hold onto it. You let it hit your heart. And then, as you breathe out, you send them relief. You breathe out light. You breathe out peace. You breathe out whatever they need. It sounds terrifying, right? Why would I want to breathe in someone else's pain? Because you're not actually taking it on. You're using your own heart as a filter. You're using your own suffering to connect with theirs. You're saying, "I see you. I know this pain. And I'm not going to run from it." That's the profound part. When you breathe in the darkness and breathe out the light, you realise you're not separate from anyone. The line between "me" and "them" starts to blur. Your heart gets bigger. It stops being a fragile thing that needs protecting, and it becomes a vessel that can hold the whole world without breaking. You don't have to fix the world this weekend. You can't. But you can sit with it. You can breathe with it. Try it for five minutes. Just five. Breathe in the pain. Breathe out the peace. See what happens to your heart. That's the real work. That's the profound learning. Not escaping the world, but expanding your capacity to hold it.

Yesterday I spent the whole day in hospital. ECG’s, hearing tests, bloods, eyes, skin, vaccinations… and then a referral straight over to a specialist ophthalmologist to have a splinter removed from my eye; he said I was very lucky that the splinter had not entered my cornea 🙏. By 5 pm I was finally outside with YoYo. The sun was hot. 27°C. Not normal for October 6th here in Normandy, France. But beautiful. We walked. I breathed. I gave thanks. Not because the day was easy, but because of the people who looked after me. Doctors, nurses, technicians, receptionists, specialists. All of them doing their work with care. Whatever life brings us, there is always something to be thankful for. That was the message of our walk. Thank you for watching. Here is my YouTube channel https://youtu.be/VbCVMALvYiA Please subscribe as its free 😊 Thank you for being here. With Love❤️ Always Mark

Hi Everyone 👋 This sign is old. The invitation is new every morning. Some people say living in the Now is impossible. How can you trust those who might harm you? How can you survive without planning and toil? How can you heal without first being schooled? Fear of death, fear of want, fear of separation from your God. But I have learned: To choose trust allows the fullest expression of life. To choose service creates the greatest abundance. To choose compassion brings oneness and health. These values are found only in the Now. They banish fear. They are the only rational response to life. So take what you need: Love. Hope. Faith. Patience. Courage. Understanding. Peace. Passion. Healing. Strength. Beauty. Freedom. Take one. Take many. Then leave me a smile. Being in the Now, forgiving all, and being thankful for all brings you closer to your God, your Spirit, and your Life. With Love❤️ Always Mark