On resolving the paradox of accepting difficulty — I have a marathon coming up, and my wife has a half, both in Connemara in April. Training hasn’t been perfect over the past few months for either of us with minor injuries interrupting best-laid plans. Despite the setbacks, we’re ploughing on in the hope that enough work will be…

On the taking of a pint. — This started life as a short and sweet Chat message on my phone that subsequently disappeared into oblivion upon switching apps to do a spell check. …

A private space for us to converse and connect — Have you heard about Substack’s Chat app? It’s a private space for readers to have conversations in real time and I have set one up for readers of The Sunday Letters Journal. It’s kind of like a group chat. I’ll post short prompts, thoughts, and updates that come my way…

In recent research, I found almost half of respondents said they were at odds with their work. Is there a way out for these workers? — Facebook throws up memories on my feed, things I shared from the last few years. And today, a note I wrote to my timeline a while ago popped up. This day ten years ago, I sat outside an office building on the Grand Canal in Dublin waiting to go into…

Extract from the upcoming revision to the 2020 ebook on Resilience — When I think about psychological resilience — the human ability to undergo the stress and difficulty of challenging life circumstances and come out the other side relatively psychologically healthy — it appears to be a condition of being in which we have little or no say. What I mean is…

I like the four-pack, full-fat natural yoghurt from the local supermarket. Unsweetened, unflavoured and made in West Cork, apparently. I take a small glass from the press, drop a couple of spoons of homemade stewed apple or jam in the bottom, and then drop the thick and creamy full-fat natural yoghurt on top. I finish it off with a tablespoon of homemade granola and flaked almonds — deadly. — It might not look great, but it tastes great. I’m currently on an 18/6 fast each day, and this is my indulgence. I like the four-pack, full-fat natural yoghurt from the local supermarket. Unsweetened, unflavoured and made in West Cork, apparently. I take a small glass from the press, drop…

Better start that thing… — My sense of mortality has been enhanced since my mother passed away a couple of years ago. My father is biding his time. He talks about the inevitability of it almost every time we meet, not in a melancholic way but in a practical accepting way. I think about myself…

Thoughts on time, work, life, and an invitation to make a change — New year parties have ended, the cleanup commences, and the subtle realisation begins to set in that it was all a bit of a sham. We said good riddance to ’22 and celebrated the prospect of a better 12 months ahead, but what’s the difference between this year and last…