The Darkling Thrush – Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant, His crypt…

a-mindful-Christmas-Story

A Mindful Christmas Story

A boy of 5 was taken to see Father Christmas.  Father Christmas was in a grotto in a wood, accessed by a short train journey through woodland. Father Christmas asked the boy what he would like for Christmas.  The boy was a little phased by this question.  He paused.  He almost seemed embarrassed – then…

walking-in-the-air-mindfully

Walking in the Air – Mindfully

Having a young grandson enables me to do some cool stuff. I have recently noticed that my relationship with him also allows me to be authentic. Just yesterday whilst disco dancing in my kitchen with this 5-year-old, made me realise that I am totally myself with him.  I am not shy, reserved, embarrassed or inhibited. …

telling-lies

Telling Lies

I have had the great good fortune this week to be teaching at Samye Ling with Choden on the new Access to Insight retreat. During the retreat, it was a great chance for me to practice along with the participants. We practiced acceptance, self-compassion, the four immeasurable qualities of loving kindness, compassion, joy and equanimity…

Online Retreat Days

NEW Online Retreat Days

We have 2 NEW opportunities to join our Online Mindfulness Retreat Days! Midwinter Practice  In the lull between Christmas and New Year, there is the opportunity to rest and replenish with mindful practice days, to return to our internal heart space that is always ready to welcome us home with open arms. Together, in these…

Autumn – John Clare

I love the fitful gusts that shakes The casement all the day And from the mossy elm tree takes The faded leaf away Twirling it by the window-pane With thousand others down the lane I love to see the shaking twig Dance till the shut of eve The sparrow on the cottage rig Whose chirp…