Hi, I’m Matthew James! And welcome to this weeks’ With Meaning newsletter about mindfulness and how to find meaning in modern life.
The good weather has been continuing here on the island, and I’ve been lucky enough to get out a few times this week and get into nature. April really seems like the month of yellow. Celandine, dandelions, marsh marigold, primroses, and the last remaining daffodils seem to dominate the verges. I hope you’ve managed to get out where you are. Let me know what things you’ve been observing.
One new thing I learned the other day is how sparrows have sex! I can’t say it’s something I’ve had a burning desire to find out, all these years, but the learning experience was foisted upon me as I hung out the laundry. There on the gutter, a sparrow couple tried gamely to perform their conjugal duet, again and again. With a lot of vocal coaxing from the female, the male would hop awkwardly closer and then try his thing, all whilst balancing 12 feet up on the edge of the gutter. Whether successful or not, I have no idea, but the female eventually, after several efforts, gave up and flew away. Ah, spring!
Thank you for your continued commitment…
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So let’s get started this week with a 5-minute meditation
5-Minute Meditation: Resplendent Gorse Flowers
There’s coconut in the air. Yet softer, sweeter somehow. As you crunch the gravel beneath your feet you recognise the unmistakable fragrance of gorse flowers. It is the beginning of spring.
Along the country lane you stride, following the scent around the next corner, where you will be sure to see the breaking waves of egg-yolk yellow. And true enough, beyond the rump of a grey-trunked sycamore, stirring from its winter slumber, stretching out burgeoning leaf to touch the cool air, there is a stretch of hedgerow, clothed in glorious gorse.
You pause to take in the sight. You inhale a lungful of perfume. A smile breaks across your face. Finally, winter is vanquished. Spring has arrived.
For a few weeks now, the daffodils have been heralding the changing of the guard. With their golden trumpets, they have signalled the coming pageantry of colour and growth and new life. Even so, you did not truly believe that winter would ever end. But now, as you see the bank of gorse stretching out for nearly a mile, you can truly feel in your core, that it is real.
Somehow, gorse flowers seem to reflect back more light than they receive. They seem far brighter than their surroundings. And it’s true, they soak in the visible light from the sun, and then, thirstily, they steal more—for they also take, quietly, the sunlight we cannot see. The violets beyond violet, the reds beyond red, the clandestine wavelengths no-one talks about, even though they encircle us and wash over us as we walk.
And, like a kind of magic, they weave these wavelengths back into a weft of gold that our eyes can detect, casting them back into the world in a different form.
So it is, as you stand there and bask in their glow, that they seem so much brighter than they ought to be. Aglow with righteous vigour. They stand out from the deep, dark greens of the surrounding leaves, or the grasses of the verge, or the sullen greys of the dry-stone wall, like a queen stands out from her subjects. As if, like an angel, they are illuminated by some hidden sun that still shines fiercely upon them from beyond this realm.
You walk the golden mile, with gorse on either side, ten foot high, feeling somehow baptised by the power and majesty of new life. Amongst the thorns and thickets, robins, sparrows, chaffinches chatter and squabble, flitting ahead of you, always staying three strides in front.
As the lane of gorse gives way to open fields, you feel invigorated. Like a new person. Lambs now frolic either side of you, bleating in soft tones their enthusiasm and playful wonder at every new thing they see.
Spring is a time to be hopeful. Through new life’s eyes and new growth’s splendour we can experience the world anew, and allow our cynicism, our jaded souls to be burnished back into a shine.
As you stand and watch for a while, you allow your surroundings to soak into your depths. Every sound, every scent. And as the breeze ripples over your face and hands, you feel an invitation: “Join us! Join in the revelry of new beginnings. Let it renew you!”
Try having a 5-minute mindful meditation yourself, wherever you are. You don’t have to be anywhere spectacular. Simply stop everything for a while, take some slow, deep breaths, and begin to open up your awareness to what’s going on.
Let me know in the comments how it goes. What did you experience or feel? I look forward from hearing all about it.
Listen to this as a guided meditation
Here’s an audio version of this guided meditation, for you to kick back, relax and listen to:
Paying members can access my growing library of audio meditations from the member’s area over at WithMeaning.net.
Main article: How can a simple dandelion help to relieve stress?
Most people have heard about mindfulness and its effectiveness in relieving stress. And there are many who would like to try but are unsure where to start. Luckily, there’s no deep mystery to the process, and anyone can quickly pick up the basics and get started.
Fundamentally, mindfulness is about three things:
- Quietening our racing thoughts,
- Being present in the moment, and
- Being aware of our environment.
It’s estimated that as much as 80% of our stress is caused, not by what we might call ‘stressful-experiences’ but by the amount of time and energy we spend thinking about them—either before or after.
If you’ve ever found yourself fixating on bad experiences, your thoughts going round and round in circles, reliving or pre-living difficult situations, then you know just how pervasive this 80% can be.
It can happen anywhere, any time, and your stress levels will inevitably rise, even though you are not, in that moment, facing any immediate danger.
This is a reason why, for example, air-traffic controllers have such a high rate of burn-out. It isn’t the at-work pressure of guiding thousands of souls safely to solid ground each day—it’s the inability to switch off when they leave work.
The very time they should be recuperating from their pressured workplace is time spent, despite their best efforts, dwelling on it. And thus, they eventually burn out. That is, apart from the fortunate few who, either naturally or through acquiring the skills, can leave the worries of work at the door when they leave.
Luckily, anyone can learn mindfulness as a way to help tackle this 80%. It is a circuit-breaker for your runaway thoughts. It can help to stop the physiological feedback loop that releases all kinds of stress hormones in response to our thoughts.
This is where the dandelion comes in!
This morning was a prime example of how something as simple and unassuming as a common dandelion—often viewed as an unwanted weed—presented an opportunity to practise my mindfulness and bring about a state of deep relaxation and a warm feeling of connection with something outside my normal routine.
The day before, as I rushed around at breakfast time, I noticed that a dandelion was growing in one of the pots in my back yard. It’s head was closed and I wondered when it would flower. Half an hour later, as the sun had angled around and reached the pot, the dandelion was now open. And later that evening, as the sun moved further round and away from my yard, the flower had, once again, closed up.
So this morning, as I had a little more time, I made the point of sitting outside to have my breakfast and observe the flower open up. The whole process took about thirty minutes—yes, that’s probably more than most of us can afford to spend staring at a weed, I admit! Nonetheless, the experience was profound and moving in many ways.
When you decide to take some time out of your day—whether that’s five minutes or an hour—and really dedicate it to being in the moment, then you open yourself up to experiencing things that are completely outside your normal sphere. Some things, like the opening of a dandelion, may seem trivial on the surface. Yes, yes, we’ve all seen dandelions, big deal! We surely need no longer than a glance to glean all there is to glean from a weed. But there is beauty, and insight, and meaning to be had in the most unlikely places. I would argue that these things can be found everywhere, if only we open ourselves up to them.
It’s like finally noticing that we’ve been ignoring music, playing all around us the whole time. It’s like obsessively binge-watching one TV show until it consumes your thoughts, only to find, to your surprise, that there are hosts of other great TV shows out there.
I sat and watched as the sun warmed my neck. I listened to the birds, the breeze swirling around my small back yard, trying to find a way out. I watched ants and beetles and tiny insects explore the surface of the dandelion plant, as if it were a large building. I watched as hover flies and bees carefully manoeuvred into the pom-pom flower head to feed. I wondered at what microscopic, light-sensitive structures were responsible for opening the flower head in response to sunlight.
The unfurling itself was at the very cusp of my visual perception. Could I see it actually moving? Was I imagining it? My sense of time became decoupled from the juggling of chores and timetables. I really experienced the moment as it was happening. I felt a kind of thrill, that I was here to witness this event—that this moment would only happen once, and here I was to see it.
Dandelions, it seems have their own rhythm to attend to—their own set of concerns and tasks and optimal conditions to strive for. They have the grand goal of procreation to work towards. They need to attract the best insects, they need to reflect the most sunlight, they need to protect their petals and stamen—the only means to achieve this ambition—during the night, when snails and slugs might come to devour them.
All while I scurry around with my own tasks, so too the dandelion has its own priorities. And so too the beetle. And so too the sparrow. Observing this busy ecosystem—I mean really observing—quietened the redundant worries that might otherwise circle my thoughts. It took me out of myself. It realigned my perspective to a wider frame of reference. It showed me that my own problems weren’t the be all and end all. There is in fact, a whole world out there. And even though we all know this intellectually, sometimes it’s good to really experience it first hand.
It’s a near impossible task, trying to put into words the profound nature of mindfulness, and how—if we manage to get it right—it can reach right down and reshape our core.
I would suggest, simply to try it. And to try it again, because, like anything worth learning, it usually takes time to master. But if you get just a snatch of calmness, if you feel a sense of wonder or connection, or of something profound and much larger than ourselves, then keep at it. Try it again. Five minutes here, five minutes there. Because that 80% of unnecessary stress is worth pruning. And you’ll be a far, far happier person for it.
Try it out, and let me know how it goes.
Book review
This week, I’ve been reading The Book of Minds: How to Understand Ourselves and Other Beings by Philip Ball. This is a truly mind-blowing book, since it seems to life the bonnet and fiddle with the workings of your own brain even as you read it. It’s a very strange feeling, but it’s definitely something I’d recommend if you have an interest in existence, and our perception of it.
In this book we discover a concept called a mind-space—a space in which we can position all possible minds, from that of a gnat to a super-intelligent AI to potential alien beings with altogether different perceptions of the laws of nature than us, and it allows us to begin to explore what “it is like” to be one of these entities.
How our brains are structured, of course, influences the kind of mind we have. And the kind of mind we have in turn dictates what we perceive, but also what things are important to us. Beginning to unpick why we think the things we do, or why we strive or why we are drawn to some ideas and concepts and not others, really gets you to question everything. What is reality, when so much of it can be tuned out, leaving us to fixate on just a thin sliver of just a single strata of reality?
If the big questions are something you feel drawn to exploring, this book is a great addition to your toolkit, because it helps you to understand the frame in which we ask these fundamental questions in the first place.
Little acts of kindness
This week’s act of kindness was when my daughters went to a lot of effort to save a bumblebee from certain death by squish, as it groggily rolled around in the road outside our house. It had obviously only just woken up from hibernation and was not able to fly. It’s energy was probably depleted and at any moment the next car would be rumbling down our street.
So, carefully, they moved the bumblebee into our backyard. Onto the very dandelion I spoke about earlier, in fact! There, it slowly responded to the sweet smell of nectar, and began drinking. It was near the end of the day, and it was already beginning to get cold. Quietly, I gave it slim hopes of surviving.
Anyway, this morning, I was very surprised to see the that exhausted bumblebee, having spent the night softly enveloped by the soft grasp of the dandelion, which had closed around it, was still there, and much more sprightly.
Now, it was animated and alert. It still was feeding from the flower, but now it drunkenly flew hear and there, bumping into the wall and window and then returning to the flower. About half an hour later, it was well enough to fly off into the the blue sky and over the rooftops.
It might seem like trivial act of kindness, but I believe looking out for any living creature is a trait to encourage. It’s like planting a seed in ourselves that will sprout and flourish in other areas, given time. For the bee in question, hopefully it will now help to pollinate dozens of other flowers and plants, perhaps providing the catalyst for other life to grow and sustain itself. Like the butterfly effect, perhaps the bumblebee effect will prove to influence the lives of millions of other creatures along the food chain as a result.
Excerpt from my Stress-Buster Course:
Each week I include an excerpt from one of my online courses that area available for my premium subscribers. This week’s excerpt is from my Stress-Buster Programme course, and it’s about the power of asking for help…
Asking for Help – A Lifeline in Stressful Times
We’ve touched on this subject in an earlier section, but now we’re going to take a closer look at it, and why it can be a life-changing superpower. Asking for help can feel like one of the hardest things to do. Many of us would rather struggle in silence than risk inconveniencing someone, creating a fuss, or appearing vulnerable. It’s a deeply ingrained habit for many—a belief that self-reliance is the ultimate measure of strength.
But here’s the truth: sometimes our problems dissolve the moment we muster the courage to ask for help. Simply saying, “I’m struggling with this—can you help me?” or “You seem to have experience with X or Y. Could you guide me?” can open doors you never realized were there.
The Liberation of “I Don’t Know”
For some, the barrier to asking for help isn’t pride or fear of being a burden—it’s the anxiety of admitting ignorance. Uttering the words “I don’t know” can feel like exposing a chink in your armour. But in reality, those three words can be among the most liberating in the English language.
Think about it—none of us can know everything. To expect otherwise is unreasonable, even absurd. And while admitting ignorance might feel vulnerable, it can also be empowering. The gaps in your knowledge don’t define you; they highlight opportunities for learning and growth.
Sometimes it can be a genuine relief—a lifelong burden lifted—to decide not to keep up the pretence that you know everything. Think back: have you ever been in a conversation where you admit to watching a movie you’ve never seen, or knowing a band you’ve never heard of, or reading a classic that you’ve never got round to picking up? The weight of keeping up this lie can be exhausting. The fear of being caught out can be crippling. Just let all that go, and take the decision to own the gaps in your knowledge, as well as the areas you are an expert in.
Every room you walk into, there’s something you know that others don’t. The same is true in reverse. Rather than seeing this as a reason to feel inadequate, try reframing it: where you lack expertise, someone else likely excels, just as there are areas where your strengths might outshine theirs. Tapping into this collective knowledge isn’t a weakness—it’s one of the greatest strengths of being human.
Why People Love to Help
Here’s something I’ve learned: most people want to help. In fact, lending a hand often makes them feel good about themselves. Helping others taps into a fundamental part of our shared humanity—our need for connection, purpose, and mutual support.
Even in competitive settings, this holds true. Take something like TV show The Great British Bake Off. Despite the fierce competition, contestants regularly step in to assist one another, even if it means jeopardizing their own chances. It’s a reminder that cooperation is woven deeply into our DNA.
Of course, not every environment fosters this spirit. In ultra-competitive workplaces or high-stakes situations, it might feel riskier to ask for assistance. But more often than not, the fear of rejection is far worse than the reality. People are often flattered to be asked for help—it validates their expertise and creates a sense of camaraderie.
Asking for Help Without Stress
If asking for help feels stressful, remember that it doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. It’s okay to start small and frame your request in a way that feels natural:
- Be honest and straightforward: A simple “I’m struggling with this. Could you lend a hand?” is often all it takes.
- Show gratitude: People appreciate knowing their efforts are valued. A heartfelt “Thank you—this really means a lot” can go a long way.
- Frame it as a learning opportunity: Instead of focusing on your gap in knowledge, approach the situation with curiosity. “I’d love to learn more about how you do this. Could you show me?”
The key is recognizing that asking for help doesn’t diminish your value—it enhances it. It shows self-awareness, humility, and a willingness to grow.
The Humanity of Helping
Think about how much of human progress has been built on cooperation. We are social beings by nature, and our greatest achievements—be it skyscrapers, space travel, or medical breakthroughs—are the result of people coming together to share knowledge and skills.
This innate drive to support one another is still alive in the day-to-day interactions we have. The next time you feel stuck, remember that you’re not alone. Whether it’s a colleague, a friend, or even a stranger, help may be closer than you think.
Asking for help isn’t just a practical solution—it’s an act of trust, a way to build connection, and a step toward easing the weight of stress. And when someone helps you, you might just find yourself inspired to pay it forward, becoming part of that ongoing cycle of mutual support.
So if you find yourself in a hole, feeling isolated or overwhelmed, pause for a moment and ask: “Who could help me with this?” You might be surprised by the answer. Sometimes, all it takes is one brave question to turn a stressful situation into a shared opportunity for growth.
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Media recommendation
Ever been stuck indoors and longed to be out in nature? This week’s media recommendation allows you to create a virtual window into a verdant glade surrounded by woodland.
Have it on in the background to lighten up a rainy day, or listen to it with your headphones as you do your work. Enjoy!
Quote
This quote encapsulates very well what I was trying to express in my dandelion article. Learning to be in the moment allows us to really experience all that is before us, whilst helping to free us from the burden of worrying about the future.
“Live quietly in the moment and see the beauty of all before you. The future will take care of itself.”
Paramahansa Yogananda
Until next time
That’s it for this week! I hope you enjoyed this issue and I’ll see you again next time. Don’t forget to leave a reply if there’s anything you’d like to share. And speaking of sharing, if there’s someone you know who you think could benefit from reading my mindfulness newsletter, please feel free to forward this to them!
See you next time.
Matthew James.
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