Hi Everyone 👋 There's an old story about a king who asked his wise men for a sentence that would be true in every circumstance. They gave him this: This too shall pass. It's true. It's also easy to hear as a dismissal. "Cheer up, it'll be over soon." That's not what it means. What it means is that nothing stays. Not the good, not the bad. Not the shame, not the joy, not the exhaustion, not the clarity. Everything arises and passes away. That's not a reason to grit your teeth and wait it out. It's a reason to stop treating this moment as if it's permanent. When you're in a low season, the mind says: this is forever. This is who I am now. I've broken something I can't fix. That's the lie. Not the pain—the pain is real—but the permanence. The pain is a visitor. The shame is a visitor. Even the sense that it will never end is a visitor. You don't have to push the visitor out. You just have to stop believing it's moved in for good. So today, if you're low, try this. Don't try to feel better. Just notice: this is a weather system, not a climate. It's moving through. It will move through. And you—the awareness that notices it—are not the weather. All conditioned things are impermanent. The Buddha said that as a teaching, but also as a comfort. Whatever this is, it's passing. You don't have to hurry it along. You just have to let it pass. With Love ❤️ Always Mark

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 longer post than normal, but please take two minutes to read it through 🙏 I've been thinking a lot recently about The Peaceful Path. What it is. What I'm trying to create. And perhaps most importantly, why I'm doing it. When I first started this community, I knew I wanted to create somewhere people could come when life felt difficult. A place where you didn't have to pretend everything was okay. A place where you could say: I'm struggling. I'm lost. I'm grieving. I'm anxious. I don't know what to do next. And instead of being judged or given a list of things you should be doing, someone simply says: “Yes. I understand. You're not alone.” But over time, I've realised that The Peaceful Path is becoming something much bigger than a community. It is a journey. A journey back to ourselves. A place to come home, understand, practise, belong and eventually contribute. The classroom is one part of that journey. There are teachings and practices around mindfulness, Buddhism, Daoism, Traditional Chinese Medicine, difficult emotions, compassion, healing, purpose, creativity and living with greater awareness. But I don't want it to become a library full of things to consume. I want these things to become things we actually live. Because knowing something intellectually doesn't necessarily change our lives. Sometimes we need to practise it. Sometimes we need someone beside us. Sometimes we need a safe place to fall apart for a while. And sometimes we simply need to remember who we are beneath all the noise. And then there is the physical Peaceful Path. Here in Normandy, I live on a piece of land that has slowly become part of this dream. An old home. Gardens. An orchard. A pond. A labyrinth. Studios. Nature. Space. And one day, I hope this place can become something more. A place where people can come and breathe. A place for healing and reflection. A place where children can play. A place where people with disabilities are not made to feel like they don't belong.