MIDL Teachers

Criteria for teaching in MIDL is not based on studying books or paying for a training course and certificate but rather on your own honest engagement and development of skill in the framework of the MIDL Meditation System.

You are welcome to integrate meditation methods you learn in the MIDL Meditation System into other meditation methods/systems for teaching purposes. 

Your study will be supported in learning MIDL techniques by attending weekly online meditation classes, workshops, retreats and self-study through actively engaging with MIDL in your daily life.

Listed on this website are meditators who are devoted to MIDL, have reached the levels of skill in their own practice following the MIDL model, and intend to teach MIDL exclusively without integrating other methods.

These accredited teachers are advertised on the MIDL website and a trusted part of the face of MIDL throughout the world. They have access to free private interviews with Stephen Procter and exclusive teacher training workshops to refine their understanding of the structure and functioning of MIDL.

Skill in teaching MIDL is developed by engaging and practicing the system following the Online Insight Meditation Course, engaging in the weekly online meditation classes which contain free-flowing discussion, the MIDL Reddit community and through Private Sessions if these are suitable.

There are no criteria or lessons for this other than experiencing MIDL for yourself, and interaction and sharing with the MIDL community.

From a very young age, I have been fascinated by meditation. I was drawn to the idea that we have the potential to improve ourselves and shape the kind of person we can become. This notion captivated my young mind and sparked the beginning of my studies. Over the past 46 years, it has been a long and enjoyable journey, one that I look forward to continuing each day.

When I was 13, I discovered a book on meditation at a school fete. The book discussed the potential to enter heightened states of consciousness through deep relaxation techniques. I remember being impressed when the author mentioned being able to have teeth extracted without painkillers, relying solely on meditation techniques to avoid pain.

This concept fascinated me, and I began to practice it. I can still recall spending countless hours lying in my parents' backyard and sitting on a rock in the bush behind our home, experimenting with these techniques. I experienced deep states of relaxation, which felt like a refuge from my everyday life. While I continued with these practices for many years, I eventually started to pursue discipline through martial arts.

This shift was largely driven by intense bullying at school. At the time, it felt like a negative experience, but looking back, I realise it fueled my drive to reach where I am today. Discomfort in life often serves as the first sign of an opportunity for something new and beautiful to emerge, even if I couldn’t see that back then.

Intensive bullying pushed me to explore martial arts at a young age. My parents encouraged me to learn self-defence, as well as to help manage my anxiety and boost my self-esteem. While there was some meditation integrated into this phase of my life, it wasn't until I was 26 that I took meditation seriously again.

Judo Study 

My formal journey into martial arts began at the age of 13 when I started studying judo. I thoroughly enjoyed it and practised whenever I could. I remember practising shoulder rolls and falls on the lawn at my parents' house, as well as working on throws and holds with any friends who would let me. By the end of that year, I entered my first competition and won on points. While this achievement was satisfying, I felt a strong desire to explore the inner development that martial arts could offer, which intrigued me more than the competitive aspect.

Ju-Jitsu Study 

During my early teens, like most boys, I became distracted by girls and took a break from training. I returned to martial arts at the age of 19, transitioning from judo to jiu-jitsu. I absolutely loved jiu-jitsu; it combined the beauty of judo with additional techniques. I felt more secure practising this art and would spend hours practising the shadow movements of the throws whenever I couldn't find a partner to train with. I owe my dedication to my mother, who instilled in us a love for sports and a commitment to give our all to whatever we pursued. I studied jiu-jitsu under two different instructors, although I can't recall their names. However, the discipline and commitment they taught me have stayed with me over the years. It was during my time in jiu-jitsu that I encountered my first lessons in meditation and tai chi, which introduced me to internal arts that I would not fully pursue until later.

Wing Chun Study

At 22, I was fortunate to discover a teacher instructing Wing Chun in a garage setting. The training was intense, and the instructor, Barry Lee, was highly skilled and inspirational. At that time, he was relatively unknown, but it felt like I had found my home, and this training consumed my life. My wife often commented that my commitment to Wing Chun resembled a religious devotion. While I admired Barry's skills, I was also captivated by the traditional training, the long hours, and the potential for mastery that he embodied.

I trained with him for eight and a half years until he moved overseas. Although I continued to practice for a while after his departure, it wasn't the same without his direct guidance. Around this time, I began to recognise the negative impact that this aggressive fighting style was having on me. I was impressively fit on the outside but felt unwell on the inside. I didn't like the person I was becoming, which drew me toward meditation. Before long, it became my new focus of study.

I began practising Buddhist Insight Meditation (satipatthana vipassana) seriously at the age of 26, after receiving Mahasi Sayadaw's book, 'Practical Insight Meditation', from a Burmese man at my workplace. After reading the book, I felt a strong conviction that this meditation path resonated with me and was one I could genuinely follow. This man was an advanced meditator and offered to teach me the Mahasi method. We spent our lunch breaks meditating together for several years.

It felt like I had come home, and before long, my wife and I started attending nine-day meditation retreats whenever we could. I devoted myself to this internal study. By the age of 29, my wife and I made a significant decision: we left everything behind and took on the role of live-in managers at the Blue Mountains Insight Meditation Centre, located west of Sydney, where we ran intensive Mahasi meditation retreats. In that environment, even while working, we managed to meditate for at least eight hours a day, which allowed our practice to deepen significantly.

We had a wonderful life there, but after three and a half years, we felt the urge to pursue more intensive practice than what was available in Australia. Therefore, we left BMIMC and went to a monastery in Myanmar (Burma) on a meditation visa. There, we studied under Sayadaw U Kundala, a highly respected monk in the Mahasi tradition, and engaged in silent meditation under his guidance.

Every waking moment was dedicated to meditation and studying the mind, which was a remarkable opportunity for which I will always be grateful. However, after four months, we had to leave because my health deteriorated due to malnutrition. We returned to Australia and worked at the Blue Mountains Insight Meditation Centre for a time. Yet, things had changed in our absence, and as my parents were getting older, we decided it would be best to move back to Sydney.

We settled into our normal lives again, but it took a while to adjust after four years of living in a monastery-style environment. The transition back to the daily grind was rocky, especially since internal culture and mental health were not prioritised. During this time, I came across tai chi. I wanted a practice that would allow me to integrate meditation and mindfulness into my daily life while also getting my body back into shape.  

Tai chi helped me regain my health and introduced me to mindfulness in movement. However, I struggled to maintain my formal mindfulness practice in everyday life. The key difference was that, in the monastery, everyone genuinely tried to be kind, generous, and gentle, valuing mindfulness in both action and speech.  

Now, back in Sydney, the focus seemed to shift toward excitement, money, and "what's in it for me?" This created a turbulent period for me. My meditation practice faltered despite my efforts to sustain it amid the chaos. Using the retreat-style Mahasi form of insight meditation was not feasible; I couldn't maintain the same momentum I had enjoyed during my time on retreat in my daily life.

During this time, the greatest gift I have ever received entered my life. In the workplace where I was employed, there was an office sociopath—someone intent on creating suffering and finding fault in others while elevating themselves. My meditation practice, which I had cultivated over the years, collapsed. Each day, I went to work feeling anxious, depressed, and sick, enduring shouts, abuse, and belittlement.  

It reached a point where I felt nauseous every single day. My body shook, and I often broke down in tears as distress filled every cell of my being. The company owner ignored this abusive behaviour, unwilling to acknowledge it, despite others having already left in tears, with many more to follow.  

This situation left me with two choices: I could run away and leave the job, or I could stay. Historically, I had tended to flee from such discomfort; it felt like facing another bully. However, during my years of formal meditation practice, I learned an important lesson. When I was restless from intensive practice, my teacher advised me to "take one seat." 

This meant that instead of trying to change the discomfort, I should be present with and accept my experiences, sitting still on the cushion without moving. Could I apply this same principle in the workplace, in my daily life? 

I am also grateful to one of my main meditation teachers, John Hale. He taught me to "embrace all experiences as you would a suffering child," demonstrating this through his own actions, even while facing illness without showing any suffering. Inspired by this, I decided that if I couldn't find the right conditions to practice meditation, I would make my life my meditation practice.

It became very clear to me during that time that a path was opening up, and I felt compelled to walk it. I realised there is no difference between sitting on an intensive meditation retreat and living everyday life. Isn't there only one thing happening at a time, regardless of whether our eyes are open or closed, whether we are changing a diaper or dealing with abuse in the workplace?  

Suddenly, my purpose became clear: I would no longer run away. I decided to let the pain in my life become my teacher. I would study it and come to understand it. I began to see that seated meditation was the way to develop both mindfulness and insight for everyday practice. Every day, I still woke up feeling sick, filled with fear about what was to come, but my relationship with these feelings had changed.  

Why did I feel this way? 

What was this sickness in my stomach? 

What exactly are anxiety and depression?  

Instead of trying to escape these feelings, I started to investigate them. When I woke up feeling sick, I directed the strength of the mindfulness and concentration I had developed toward these sensations. 

Where were they located? 

How was I experiencing them? 

Why did they feel unpleasant? 

Why didn't I like them?  

I stopped taking pleasant and unpleasant feelings for granted and began to investigate, investigate, investigate. I learned to soften, soften, soften and to take one seat. While I was being abused in the workplace, I looked the person in the eyes and smiled. At the same time, internally, I focused on my feelings of anger, fear, and frustration. The abuse became my practice, and this person became my teacher.

At first, I struggled. I fell many times, and my habitual tendencies were to run and react whenever the feeling arose. It felt like the easiest path, after all, this was what I had practised throughout my life. However, running away from the pain didn’t work, and what I had learned from my meditation teachers came back to me. During an intensive retreat, I was taught to sit with physical and mental pain, not to run away from it but to investigate it. I questioned whether it would be possible to apply this wisdom while enduring abuse.  

I decided to commit to my practice, taking one day at a time. Gradually, I began to see how meditation could be integrated into my daily life. Despite still facing abuse, feeling belittled, and being put down, the buttons that used to trigger strong responses started to weaken. I found that I could stand comfortably in the face of the abuse with very little pain. At this point, I shifted my focus from my own suffering to observing theirs. I realised this person was also in pain, screaming out in their own suffering. 

I no longer saw them as a villain but as someone ill and confused, trapped in a false reality. Compassion for their suffering began to arise within me. As I stood and took the abuse without allowing it to hurt me, I engaged calmly, speaking quietly and smiling, internally wishing for their happiness and well-being. I recognised that aggression requires either a victim or another aggressor to thrive; by not being either, I could see the effects of my new approach. 

This individual initially increased their aggression and malice until the weight of their own pain became too great to sustain. I noticed that my path of love, caring, and balanced mindfulness reflected their pain at them. Eventually, they began to avoid me. Although they continued to mistreat others, they increasingly refrained from treating me in that manner. Over time, we learned to work together without the abuse. At this stage, a clear path emerged: I could practice mindfulness in my everyday life, my meditation practice began to progress, and I started to appreciate this opportunity for self-discovery.  

I remained in this workplace for 13 years, helping nearly as many people leave, often in tears. My practice shifted from focusing on my own concerns to using the protection it provided to assist others. Interestingly, the person who had been abusive did not change for the better; they remained unkind. However, I had changed, or rather, my relationship to the external situation—and more importantly, my internal situation—had shifted, allowing me to find peace within the turmoil. I learned so much during this time and am incredibly grateful for the opportunity it provided to refine my practice of Buddhist insight meditation in daily life.

During this time, my mother was very ill, and I felt I had nothing more to gain in my workplace. Having made my peace and learned a valuable lesson, I handed in my resignation to leave in two weeks, with no regrets, so that I could spend time with my mother during her final days. On the morning of my last day at work, I received a call to come to my mother's side; she passed away that morning. Holding her hand through the dying process tested my practice. 

During this time of grief, I found that my understanding deepened, and I could clearly see the progress I had made. This practice could continue irrespective of the external situation. Just thirty minutes later, I went to work and completed my final day, working in a warehouse and unpacking a container, continuously shielded from negative influences through this beautiful path.  

When I left, I was without my beloved mother and unemployed, with no clear idea of what to do next. Then, a young kitten, who had also lost her mother, appeared under our veranda. She was feral, and for the next month, I spent time sitting and talking to her from a distance, offering her food. One day, she finally stepped onto my hand, turned in a circle, and fell asleep in my palm. As I had learned throughout my life, trust is the most important currency in the world. It is difficult to accumulate and easy to deplete. When she trusted me enough to take that next step, she entered mine and Linda's lives—she is still my little girl today.  

I began volunteering to teach tai chi at a local school three times a week, and people began to come to me for private lessons in both tai chi and meditation. This allowed me to generate some income, and my wife, Linda, graciously supported me during this time. It was then that I taught myself HTML and built my first instructional website, "Tai Chi Health for Life." Donations supported this online classroom, and I aimed to share everything I knew about tai chi.  

My role as a teacher in both tai chi and meditation grew. My business model was based on an understanding I had gained: to be generous and kind to others, to give all I had selflessly, and it would return: 

"Take one seat." 

I had seen this principle manifest again and again throughout the years. I knew if I treated others well and selflessly gave everything I had, it would return to me in some form. This principle remains the foundation of my business today.

 Six months later, I noticed an advertisement in the local paper seeking a Buddhist meditation teacher. While I didn’t respond to the first ad, the second one seemed to describe me perfectly, even without mentioning my name. It was placed by Venerable Yangchen, who had started Meditation in The Shire ten years prior. Due to health issues, she needed someone to teach the classes and eventually take over.  

We were a natural fit, and I feel very blessed to have had this opportunity. Coincidentally, she had lost her father just a couple of days after I lost my mother. Our paths were destined to cross, as the loss of a parent marked a significant turning point in both our lives. 

I am truly grateful to Venerable Yangchen for all the work she put into building Meditation in The Shire and for her trust in me to take over her project. Three weeks later, she generously offered me meditation school, and I dedicated myself to rebuilding it over the next twelve years. Teaching meditation feels like coming home; this is where I am meant to be, and everything has once again come full circle. 

The classes were offered on a donation basis (dana), and I developed my first in-depth Buddhist Insight Meditation Course on Satipatthana Vipassana, also supported by dana. This marked the beginning of the MIDL Insight Meditation System, which was largely based on detailed instruction in the Mahasi technique, combined with my understanding of softening to allow for practical application in daily life. The original course began to attract insight meditation students from the U.S. and the E.U. who donated to support my work on the online course.  

During this time, I wrote several small books specifically designed for worldwide distribution, supported by donations from students in my classes as gifts to help heal families and communities. These books were the foundation of MIDL as a system. Over the next twelve years, the local community grew to hundreds of students, and those simple times spent within that community were among the best of my life. 

The primary consideration for MIDL (Mindfulness in Daily Life) is: How can one effectively develop momentum on the meditative path in daily life, outside of the controlled environment of a retreat, given that a retreat and daily life present different challenges?  

Things to be considered here are:

1. Sila (moral conduct) is continuously challenged in daily life, whereas it is controlled in a retreat environment. 
2. Daily life is filled with sensory stimulation, while a retreat environment limits such stimulation. 
3. Daily life acts as a playground for hindrances, whereas conditions in a retreat environment minimize the possibility of these hindrances arising. 
4. Due to these factors, samadhi (unification of mind) experiences a high decay rate in daily life, while a retreat environment is designed to lower this decay rate.
5. In daily life, the meditator must maintain healthy relationships with themselves, family, friends, work, and the world. In a retreat, maintaining these relationships is not a concern beyond the parameters of sila.  

These considerations are essential for designing a meditation system that functions effectively in daily life. Developing momentum in samadhi (unification) through the perception of anicca (impermanence) works well in a retreat setting. However, it becomes much more challenging in daily life due to the decay rate of samadhi, which can isolate the meditator from others and lead to significant dukkha (suffering).  

While the perception of dukkha through anicca fosters disenchantment, which is beneficial in a retreat, it can be detrimental when the meditator is immersed in family life, risking adverse feelings towards those around them. The perception of anatta (not-self), if developed skillfully and paired with a softening approach, produces lower levels of dukkha but still leads to significant disenchantment.  

The underlying message delivered by insights into anicca, dukkha, and anatta is to "let go." If the mind becomes disenchanted and attempts to let go without a safe place to do so, it may experience fear and increased dukkha. This fear arises from the mind's inability to find solid ground during the letting-go process, and any resistance from the meditator at this point will only amplify the experience of dukkha.  

To minimise dukkha when perceiving anicca and anatta, the insight meditator should pair samatha (calm) with vipassana (insight) and ensure the messages from both practices align with the instruction to "let go." This requires developing samatha through letting go rather than through controlling attention. If samatha is cultivated through control, it creates a mismatch between insight and calm, leading the mind to seek control and suppression of experience — behaviours it has been conditioned to adopt.  

In MIDL, the insight meditator cultivates samatha calm by relaxing and letting go while maintaining clear comprehension of the process. This approach allows for the development of jhana (meditative absorption) while embedding the instruction: "Calm and safety are accessed through letting go." 

Training the mind in this manner, while developing insights into anicca, dukkha, and anatta, reinforces disenchantment and encourages a healthy process of letting go. By doing so, the mind will not feel threatened or overcome by dukkha-based fear and dread because it understands how to find safety within samatha and recognises the pleasure in letting go of control.  

Given the above insights, the question is: How can an insight meditator use these challenges in everyday life to address the identified problems?

Based on this understanding, the following can be applied:  

1. Use sila not as a rigid set of rules but as a moral framework to highlight the kusala (wholesome / skillful) and akusala (unwholesome / unskillful) aspects of one's actions. 
2. Train the mind to soften and relax its attachment to sensory stimulation. 
3. Utilize the hindrances that arise in daily life as a path to insight. 
4. Develop stability in samadhi by gaining insight into the inherent anatta nature of the hindrances and the conditions leading to their rise and cessation. This insight weakens the hindrances in the meditator's mind, enabling them to cultivate samatha jhana in daily life. Achieving jhana through khanika samadhi (momentary concentration) is more difficult due to the continuity of mindful noting required to maintain the stability necessary for vipassana jhana. 
5. The MIDL meditator utilizes their relationships— with themselves, family, friends, work, and the broader world— in a manner that emphasises sila, weakens akusala, cultivates kusala, and ultimately fosters harmony.

When COVID-19 arrived, all my classes were shut down overnight due to regulations, and we were required to stay home during the lockdown. On the first day (Friday), I was uncertain about what to do since I was unemployed again. However, the next day, I received a donation in my PayPal account (and I am still so grateful for this) for the exact amount needed for a Zoom subscription. I purchased the subscription, rebuilt my website for online classes over the weekend, and started teaching online on Monday.  

During this time, I meditated, taught online classes, and developed the Online MIDL Insight Meditation Course on my website.  My local Australian students struggled to adapt to online classes. By the end of the COVID lockdowns, I had only a few students left. Fortunately, during this period, my overseas student base began to grow, creating a large community of students following MIDL today. 

MIDL has now become a worldwide Insight Meditation practice, with many meditators incorporating satipatthana vipassana into their daily lives. I feel blessed and grateful to have many dedicated students around the world who have grown through MIDL and are bringing that growth into their homes and communities. This has always been my goal: to help heal the world from within.  

After the COVID lockdown, Linda and I moved from Sydney to a beautiful community in Mylestom on the north coast of New South Wales. We are still happily and healthily living together after 38 years of marriage, in our lovely home with our cat, Skitty. We cherish our time together, and every morning, we wake up, look out the window, and say, "How lucky are we?"  

I am grateful each week for the opportunity to spend time with and share experiences with the MIDL community. I share what I have learned, and they teach me through their questions and sharing of their experiences. Together, we continue to refine the MIDL Insight Meditation System into a beautiful way of practising Buddhist Insight Meditation in daily life, transforming families and communities from within.