Going on retreat…a tale of The White Fox and About Zen: Mindfulness

Kilchattan Bay So…how are you good people? First blog post of 2018, and we’re in March…having stepped through most of Winter, I am beginning to emerge on what promises to be a spell-binding year.

As people who are in the know, I am now teaching Mindfulness to groups on Mondays and Tuesdays, and the journey continues for me, the shifts keep coming and the Mindfulness in my own practice becomes ever more apparent. There is no end, only shifts; practice, practice, over and over. Enlightenment is never reached, or if I think it does, I’m firmly reminded by the universe that ‘no, no it hasn’t’.

I was amused to see a note on a website (from the International Futures Forum) talking of a Second Enlightenment. The aim, I’m realising, is not to strive for anything like enlightenment, or to sit on a mountain top with inner peace exuding from oneself; the aim is simply to continually observe what is in the here and now, as a way of life. This includes all the difficult stuff. Why? Because then I’m not making stuff up about my life, especially in thought form. It’s all about the experience, not the loss of the present into a realm of illusory thoughts, made up suffering and what if’s. We’re all suffering enough as it is. Mindfulness is all about not adding to the suffering, and by increasing one’s awareness to the here and now we do tend to suffer less as a result, and when we’re suffering less, other people around us also suffer less. That’s why, for me, it’s the most important thing I can do in life.

My guided mindful walks begin in earnest in just over a week away, and I’ve got 8 planned this year up until October. Not only that, with my continued 1 to 1 zen life coaching services, I’m immersing myself in the basic principle of ‘living in the present moment’ and sharing this with others, should they request the need. This has already been a four year journey. So, what’s next?

Continued practice…and a book on the subject.

About Zen: Mindfulness is underway. I take every Monday after my group to sit somewhere and write about the topic held in the group on that day. Whether it’s about gratitude, or about the ego, or about suffering, or about the flow of the universe, it’s all getting jotted down. My hope is that the book will reach many people, and will be an invitation for the reader to share in the practice of Mindfulness.

To deepen my own practice this year, I’m planning a solitary retreat, beginning on the Isle of Bute in May. I shall blog about it afterward. This will also culminate in writing more of The White Fox (my sequel to The Black Tree) of which much of the story for that book will be based on the Isle of Bute, so it’ll be great for me to research the area and add my descriptions to the book while I’m there. Yet the retreat will be much more a case of meditation, of walking the landscape in silence, and of exploring my own limits and connecting with the spacious, abundance of nature.  Silence and space are two great ways of being in the moment. In silence, we notice our need to speak. In space, we notice our need to fill it with distractions.

So the journey continues to unfold. It’s a pleasure to share it with all those who read this blog.

Hopefully I will catch up with one or two of you on my mindful walks.



A fragment of the 2017 journey

spirit-worldNovember. The UK gears up for the next celebration: Christmas. I walked past a Christmas tree in Morrisons only yesterday. My initial thought was ‘goodness gracious, that’s early!’ then I gave myself a chuckle and let the thought pass by. Why should I get annoyed over a tree?

I think I can sum up my 2017 journey with similar stories. Stories about thinking. Stories about awareness of thinking.

This has been my journey, practicing the art of becoming more aware. The more aware I am, the more conscious I am, and the more present I am for myself and for others I come into contact with. The result? Better relationships. Better quality of life. Noticing when I’m feeling despondent and snapping out of it. Noticing when I’m enjoying myself and savouring it. This is the basic truth of mindfulness.

With this practice, my life has opened up considerably. Two weeks ago I gave my first mindful talk to a group of about 30 people. I look back and smile, and realise that only a year or two ago this fact would have filled me with huge anxiety. How could I give a talk to 30 people! It’s inconceivable. Now, it’s happened. My smile grows broader.

I now stand on the edge of something new, again. I’m being invited by the universe to step into new challenges, to practice more, to overcome more fears, to become…well…even more conscious. That is so true, so much of my purpose now. This is my life, my story, and I’m moving into another new chapter. Once again, I’m reminded of the ever changing flow of the universe: nothing ever stays the same.

My life is my meditation, my practice. Everything being thrown at me raises a question (if I’m being aware). I cannot put into words how awe-inspiring I feel from this practice, from this way of being.

I have nothing but gratitude for this journey, my path, this flow. I am immensely honoured to be in the position I’m in, a place I had never thought possible.

So, 2017 has been amazing to me. Every day is amazing. So many good things have happened, and the bad? Well, now I’m judging good and bad, so I will refrain from that. Every moment is a teaching, and I am grateful for each and every moment that I’m still here, breathing, living, accepting and enjoying the fragments of this life.

2018? There is a palpable sense of something shifting, something stirring, something wonderful. I believe our world is set for huge changes, for awakenings and for awareness to reach many more of us – we will have come home, and the world will respond. Once again my optimism for the future shines through.

Once again, I smile broadly, realise I’m thinking about the future, and come back to the moment, chuckling at my ever chatting mind.


Mapping the path with enthusiasm

enthusiasmI love this Roald Dahl quote, and the more I look at it, the more I also begin to realize how important enthusiasm is for my life.

It’s a sign that what I’m doing is still worth something to me. It’s a sign that I’m following my heart more than my head; a sign that I’m fully immersing myself in what I’m doing. So, it’s beginning to make me reflect on some of the things in my life where I’m NOT enthusiastic, and asking myself the important question: is it time to change my habits?

If I look at my writing output over the past few years, it’s been little, hesitant, reluctant. Confidence has ebbed in my own ability, which hasn’t changed itself, only my mind thinks thoughts that give me the self-doubt. So my enthusiasm wavers, and I wonder what is the point of writing, of posting blogs like this one, of finishing off my book projects (about 12 at last count!) and of doing something different.

Then I look further into the cause of enthusiasm, and it’s an emotion of joy, of passion and it’s completely of the moment. It fits in with my mindful life-style these days, a love based emotion, not constrained by thoughts of doubt, or what other people think, or want me to do. This is my life, my enthusiasm, my passion.

So I come to a better place with my writing, all of a sudden. I come to a place where I just write, because I enjoy it, because I like telling stories, because I’m enthusiastic about creating something. It matters not one jot what other people think, or what people want me to write about, or that people think I’m good, or bad, or that I think I’m good, or bad, it just IS. It’s just writing for the sake of writing.

Now there’s a well of ideas bubbling underneath my surface, just waiting to be unleashed. Twelve book projects suddenly seems quite achievable, and not the end. I’m pondering over old maps, and thinking about adding more imagery to my books, and really making the places in my novels come alive. My writing is clambering up the slope, ready to emerge. I’m going to hug it, love it and become passionate about it.  I feel my enthusiasm will bubble over so that other people will become enthused by it too – so that’s an exciting bonus!

Beyond the writing is that rich tapestry that I call my life, and I sense great changes coming for me. I’m going to use enthusiasm as a roadmap, to plan my path. It’ll mean the end of some things in my life, but that’s all to the good. Things come and go all the time. So long as I remain enthused about things, I will not falter, or succumb to my own fears. I can map and change my own life. So now’s the time (there isn’t any other time after all).



The art of selflessness

selflessness Headache? Fed up with the world? Annoyed at something? Chances are you’re thinking about yourself.

It’s hard to be selfless. In a world filled with fear, we’re always trying to protect ourselves. I must lock my door, I must make sure people like me, I must do this so that person will like me more, I must make sure I’m safe, I must look after myself, because who else is going to? If I do this I’ll be happier. If I do that I’ll be better.

These thoughts are based on a fear of some sort. Fear of rejection. Fear of insecurity. Fear of something. There’s no acceptance of our current situation. We lose our real selves, beings of love, through fear, and fear is everywhere. It consumes us in the media, it consumes us in our lives. We’re always insecure, lacking in confidence,  constantly worried about something.

Yet, a transformation can occur every day. It’s a simple solution. It’s all about not thinking about oneself. Cultivating a generous nature of spirit, a path to loving-kindness for others, reaches a part of us that’s always there, it’s just shrouded by all our fear. The real nature of meditation isn’t a selfish pursuit, it is a discipline so we can calm our minds, calm our spirit, so we stop thinking about the self and look out, building our resilience in the world and reducing our fear. Without fear, our natural love emerges, our natural tendency to want to help those who are suffering.

The ironic thing is that if we were more selfless, people would be more likely to help us, more likely to like us, more likely to look after us. By being selfless, we’re actually helping ourselves. So why don’t we do it more? Well, we are creatures of habit, after all.

A kind word, a helping hand, a community of spirit to look after others, that’s all we need in this life. It’ll stop our ego from being the biggest thing in our heads. This life isn’t all about us, and how we feel, and the drama of it all – it’s about helping others, of really looking outward at more than just our own being. Our purpose is rekindled, our point of living rebuilt. There’s no place then for depression, of feeling got at, of feeling wounded/victimised, or judgment for this ‘accursed’ world. The art of selflessness is all about waking up in the morning and saying, ‘how do I serve? How do I perform the best I can perform today? Who can I help? Who can I send a nice message to, or a kind word? What can I change for the benefit of the world?’

By doing so, we’re not doing it out of a self-righteous expression to assuage our own guilt (also a fear). We’re doing it for the sake of doing it, because by helping others we transform our miracle of life into something greater: a combined, community of souls, striving to assist one another on the great journey we’re all on. We’re all beings of love, just wanting to reach out and share everything.

It’s an art, no doubt about it. But just remember, when you’re feeling down, ponder whether you’re thinking about yourself, and if you are, you have an opportunity to change your mindset. Let go of that ego, come back to the community: the community of humanity. We can all help ease suffering, if we decide it within ourselves.


Hollow world? Well, if you think so…

Hollow tree Stumbling across this hollow tree the other day has inspired me to write a new blog post. It was an amazing find, with a huge gouge out the centre of it.

For many people, this is what their lives are like: hollow, empty, depressed…do you know the feeling?

For many of us, we get up like zombies, go to work (in a job we don’t really enjoy, but it pays the bills, right?), Mon-Fri, 7 plus hours a day…for what? So we can get our small token of rest at weekends, which we spend agonising over the fact that Monday is just around the corner.  Sound familiar?

Maybe there’s a different way. I’ve managed to do it (hurrah!) I work part-time, the rest of the time I devote to being. Yes, a human being, not a human doing…and this brings me neatly onto something I’ve learned. It’s actually really abundant to just ‘be’.

Most of us do work so we can have more money to buy more things so we can be happier – but this approach doesn’t work (I’ve tried it, believe me). Happiness is not a goal or a destination, it’s a mind concept.

I suspect this tree is probably quite happy, despite the huge hollow hole in the middle of it. There were plenty of leaves on it, the sunshine was pouring on it, birds were nestling in the branches. It was an idyllic scene. It accepts the fact it has a hole. It can’t change the fact, nor can it fight it, so the only choice open to it is to ‘carry on’. I have no idea if trees have feelings or think, but I do know we as humans ‘think’ all the time. If we dropped all that thought, what would we be left with? We’d be like a tree – alive, existing, in the present moment (there’s no concept of time for trees), and just, well, being.

So, if you find yourself doing far too much, stop and just be for a while. Stop trying so hard. Stop trying to attain, attain, attain! It sounds a bit like a dalek. Let everything just be, let everything just flow around you, and see then how you feel. We have all the time in the world…




Sitting with that old friend, anxiety

CookieMomentI found the image to the left rather funny, so I hope I’m forgiven for stealing it for my blog post.

The last month or so, I’ve been really thinking about anxiety. There is no surprise that anxiety and I have had an enduring relationship, although lately it has lost its control over me, and despite the odd niggly feeling in my stomach (which I welcome like an old friend) it subsides a lot quicker than it previously did.

One of my ‘students’ in my mindfulness group asked me how to deal with anxiety, and it’s a topic that comes up over and over. Everyone at some point in their lives gets anxious. My response, and my ongoing practice, is to sit with the anxiety in me.

What on earth does that mean, I hear you cry! Well, don’t we tend to ignore our pain, our suffering, and reach for something to distract us from it? A stiff drink? A puff on a cigarette? A walk outdoors, perhaps, or watching a movie on the TV? Ah, that’s better, I’m not focusing on my anxiety anymore, I feel great…at least for a little while.

These things are all well and good, but afterward, we still feel anxious. It’s still there, tugging at our nerves. It’s still clinging on, desperate for you to observe it. Your body’s trying to tell you something. You’re nervous! You’re scared. You’re worrying about the future.

So, I sit with it. I take some time (even only 5 minutes, if that’s all I can manage), to sit somewhere comfy (my body doesn’t do cross-legged for too long, so I’m not a Yoga guru just yet!) so I tend to choose a comfortable armchair, or I do go outside and sit somewhere pleasant. I breathe deeply, and really focus on my breathing. I then scan my body, and see what’s going on: what’s it trying to tell me? Ah, there you are anxiety, nestling in my stomach. Welcome. What have you got for me this time?

By tuning in to the feeling of anxiety, not the perceived cause of it, all of a sudden there’s a different relationship with it. It’s just you and the feeling. There’s no drama attached to this; it’s just a feeling, like joy, or anger, or any emotion…it too shall pass through you given some time. It’ll pass through you much quicker if you just focus on it, and don’t add any more to it with your thoughts – making it a huge anxiety ridden monster. Worrying about your anxiety is no good! Worrying about what might happen to you is no good! Sitting, breathing, just feeling the anxiety within, that’s the key. It’ll unlock your body’s reactions, and it’ll ebb from you. Everything changes, including how you feel.

Each time you do this, (your anxiety will return – this isn’t an overnight thing, you know), it’ll be less.  It’s all about accepting your anxiety as part of you. It takes a lot of energy to fight it, to try and come up with solutions for it. It’s there and it’s giving you a signal – this is actually very helpful and could be useful in certain circumstances. By being mindful of it within you, you’re using it as a tool, not as an enemy; it’s no longer frightening.

Therefore, anxiety can become an opportunity to learn. We can all learn from our suffering.

So, the next time it happens for you, welcome it in. Serve it tea and cake. Sit with your old friend, and just let it be.




March Perspectives

Dysart View Ever looked at things with a different perspective?

With fresh eyes, I’m wandering around Fife, near my home, fully immersing myself in the land around me. A walk along a beach, done many times before, the same beach, greets me with new sights. Perhaps I’m just looking a lot more clearly these days.

2017 has already been an interesting year. My work in my Mindfulness groups has expanded to include practice sheets, and each practice sheet contains 4 different practices. I’m up to ten practice sheets, so that’s 40 practices, not just focused in Mindfulness, but in all other areas of life. To share and discuss these practices with other like-minded people has been fabulous, and they are fast becoming part of my daily life routines.

Each morning, just when I wake up, and again at night, just before I go to sleep, I’ve been doing a breathing practice. The aim for this is to concentrate on my breathing fully, not thinking about anything else, and capturing the present moment in the process. In the morning, it’s useful for me to slip out of my subconscious into conscious mode this way – perhaps I won’t say something straight out of my subconscious, such as ‘I can’t be bothered to get up’, ‘it’s far too comfy in this bed’ or some such ego storyline. Again, at night, it’s relaxing and calming to descend into the subconscious with no other thoughts; that, if the subconscious mind had its way, would keep me up all night and give me insomnia. Again, such drama, but when I’m just breathing, where is the drama?

I’ve also been doing a bit of creative visualisation – imagining something in the future as already being achieved. I’ve imagined having more 1 to 1 Mindfulness clients, and also the success of selling 10 books a month from my novels/poetry. They’re not huge targets to achieve, very do-able in reality terms, so it’s not a big stretch to think this could already be happening. Once I imagine the success, and feel it, more importantly, the emotional responses from this reach into the world, and…well…maybe…just maybe…

…currently, since doing the visualisation, I’ve got a new Mindfulness client doing 1 to 1, and I’ve sold 5 books so far this month (2 from an unusual source!)  Is this proof then, that this sort of visualisation works?

I think part of the truth of it, if we’re thinking more in a science, logical based way, is that by creating positive intention in my life, I’m generating more positivity in my dealings with people, in my self-expression, my creativity, and rewards are coming from that alone. How important it is then, in my view, to be positive about myself, to keep an open-mind, and remain curious about the wonder that is this thing we call life. Who knows where next it will lead me?

My next intention for 2017 is to keep writing, to finish some of my projects this year, and generally reach as many people as possible with my Mindfulness teachings. If I visualise that, I wonder what will come.

It’ll be interesting to see the journey unfold.



2016, the year of change

Old_Bridge Well what an interesting year 2016 has been for me. Having just returned from a lovely walk seeing old bridges crumbling (like the one pictured, along with a furry friend), I can’t help but feel this old bridge is a metaphor for the year: things have been crumbling, things have been changing, and pretty soon there won’t be a bridge at all. What will be in its place?

For me, 2016 started as good as any other year, if not better. I had plenty of ideas of where I wanted it to go, especially with my writing and learning all about Mindfulness.  It’s interesting, but as the year turned, I could sense a lot of my old fears and issues falling away, just like an old, crumbling bridge. I was on an adventure! A new start, a fresh perspective on life, and it was amazing to start practicing this perspective, not just through Mindfulness, but through every facet of my world. I’ve deliberately spent a lot of the year pushing in to things I might have chosen not to do before, and certainly done things that have been a bit outside of my normal comfort zone. I’ve been on a journey, daily, looking inward, focusing a lot more on my feelings (and not trying to fix them or solve them, just let them be) and it’s helped me so much.

It’s not all been smooth sailing. I’ve certainly not written as much as I would’ve liked; I’m only just beginning to get back into doing that, finally overcoming a mental block on it which has hounded me most of the year. I’ve also played around with time, and my perspective on it: moving from feeling too busy to just being busy, moving from blaming the outside world to acknowledging my inside world, and giving myself the choice to do something different.

Then there’s been the media this year, full of celebrity deaths, full of war imagery, of new presidents, brexits and a myriad of changes. The climate is feeling warmer, too – double figures in the centigrade in December, in Scotland?? Unheard of. I sense more changes on the way, and a lot of them seem difficult to control, or accept.

It feels like we’re all at a tipping point, where we could all fall into the despair lurking all around us if we choose to see it, or perhaps we can choose a different path, a different perspective.

I end 2016 with a feeling of hope, for all those who are beginning to face their fears, and come out in the open, and be heard, and be part of the unfolding future. I end it with feelings that the old bridge will crumble, but what will replace it might not necessarily be better or worse, it’ll just be something new. Change is inevitable, and we could all do with some fresh changes.

2017 will begin as 2016 did for me, with plenty of creative energy and book projects, and more Mindfulness work. The difference for me, is that I finally feel ready to sink into it, to be a part of this amazing world, to do my best, to pour my hope and joy into everything I do.

I wish everyone a welcome rest at the end of this year, and love and joy for 2017.

Supermoons and the lightness of spirit

SupermoonI saw the Supermoon last night; a big, bright moon (in between the Scottish clouds). Standing there taking it all in, especially when I was standing on my own, really encapsulated my feeling of lightness. Just that evening, I’d been discussing lightness and heaviness with some friends. What makes us feel heavy? Well, I have my suspicions…(you knew I would).

Our atoms that make up our cells in our body vibrate at varying frequencies. Feel light? They’re doing a merry vibrating dance. Feel heavy? They’re sluggish, not flowing as they should.  What makes our atoms and wave frequencies feel heavy?  Well, the weight of the world, the thoughts of ego, the ‘victim mentality’.  It’s interesting, because our ego is designed to protect us (flight or fight) and it’s mighty useful in certain instances. But when we live in ego mode (which most of us do, basically subconsciously, and around 95% of the time) being in those thought processes causes our tiny atoms to, well, just not be as happy and merry as they would like to be.

The result? Disease, depression, despair…most things beginning with ‘d’. At worst we’re silently suffering, or perhaps we’re telling everyone we’re suffering (way to go, ego).

I looked at the moon last night, and I decided to let go of my ego for a few moments. It was just me and the moon. It was just a fact. There were no storylines going on, no drama between my ears (some of you may feel different about that one!) I felt light, anyway, a kinship with this amazing orb in the sky. Thank you, supermoon!

So, when you’re feeling a bit down (there’s another ‘d’ word), or sluggish, or lazy, or just can’t be bothered, ponder your atoms! Ponder the energy that exists in this world, especially within you, and notice whether you’re creating stories in your brain. Let it all go, even if only for a moment.

Go see the moon. That’s all you need to do.

One of my sit spots is a cave…


On one of the many walks on Falkland Estate, I encountered the cave pictured. It’s a pretty spot where I can sit and just be, surrounded by trees and gentle forest sounds.

I sat there just a few days ago, and really noted the quiet. It’s amazing what the quiet can do for you, if you’re sitting deep within it, nestled in comfort.

I have a lot going on just now, busy times, not difficult times necessarily, but coming to a place in nature like this, tranquil, quiet – well, it helps put these mental processes into order. Just relaxing and being, taking some time to sit and ponder has always been good for me.

I do have a chuckle with myself, too, for the melodrama I put into my life. Nine book projects are floating around in my brain. Not content with that, I’m working on my Mindfulness course that I’m now doing weekly, working out written hand-out sheets to give to clients. Not content with that, I have a craft market to organise and do admin for. Not content with that, I’m about to embark on potentially writing articles for a local magazine every other month. Not content with that, I’m – well, you get the picture. Lots going on! Feels like I need this cave more than ever, to walk to, to sit, and just be.

Then it strikes me: do I really need this cave? Do I feel overwhelmed, struggling with all the things in my head? It’s an interesting question, and at one time I’d have responded with the affirmative – yes! I do need the cave. Everything is just too much…

…only I’m noticing a real change in myself. A change that says, yes, I can do more, in fact, I actively enjoy doing more. I want to be part of all the things I do, and why not try and do something else as well? I’ve gone from feeling ‘too busy’ to just ‘being busy’, a small but important difference.

My life is incredibly rich, just now. I see abundance flying in from all over the place: people who want to see me, places that hold so much beauty, emotions that are full of laughter and humour, the list goes on. I’m the most content I’ve ever been; years ago, with all this stuff going on, I’d have been anxious, full of worry, self-doubt, eating at myself, and my ego would’ve been shouting at me to just STOP!!

It’s still a pleasure to come to this cave, and all the other places I visit. It’s still good to pause, and reflect on things, but not with a view to healing myself; with a view to just being, just being a part of the world as it flows around me. There’s always something new and unexpected coming around the corner, and it’s exciting. In fact, visiting a place like the cave actually gives me more creative fuel, more ideas, potentially new projects. Perhaps I’ll never get round to writing them all, or doing them all, but that’s OK. The important thing I’m noticing about myself is there’s no longer any need to beat myself up over things I haven’t yet done. I’m doing what I’m doing right now. Tomorrow can wait, but it’ll be different, again, again and again.