STOP THE PRESS! I FELT ‘MINDFUL’ THIS WEEK. Truly. For a whole thirty seconds on a flu ridden, fart-stenched tube carriage at rush hour (squidged between an armpit and a bad case of halitosis) I was entirely present and in tune with my inner-most thoughts.
I didn’t hashtag it, I didn’t filter it, I didn’t spout psychobabble about it to friends – I simply let it happen. Yep, that’s right – my RAGE was mindful.
I was witness to a grown woman in amongst the carnage, contorted beyond human recognition, trying to put the finishing touches to a koi carp in her adult colouring book. Not only that but she wasn’t staying within the lines. How dare her mindfulness attempts be so messy! She may have been trying to ‘colour her way to peace and calm’ but she was colouring me red. You’ve never seen such a sad looking soul, her obvious stress as sorrowful as the price tag on the colouring book. For mindfulness has become a multi-million-pound industry. How can anyone honestly be calm with books like Mindfulness for Dogs out there on the shelves? We are buying into an idea that costs nothing to pursue and crying into our colouring crayons. I’m sure even the Buddha himself would have woken up to this reality by now.
Mindfulness has been re-branded, its new-fangled marketing speaks volumes to anyone who has ever posted a photo of avocado on toast. If they’re getting money out of us for thinking and breathing, we’ll be coughing up for coughing next. I’ve been mindful for yonks, I feel like the majority of us were until the Internet came along and pooped all over everyone’s sense of perspective. I am aware that all of this is easier said than done for some but to those people I would suggest seeking solace outside of the shops. Be mindful when you reach for your hard earned dosh. Unless the Universe gave it to you of course. In which case, you’re probably already writing a book about it.