Little meditations

A realisation which made me think about the moments of life where we meditate “unconsciously”, perhaps by doing something routine or mundane.

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In pubs across Ireland, it’s a very common sight to see old men drinking solo. They typically sit at the bar with a pint of Guinness and drink it very slowly. There’s even an expression to describe this behaviour: nursing a pint. Drinking with absolutely no hurry, savouring the experience.

Meditation wasn’t really a concept I came across growing up in rural Ireland, unless you consider praying to Jesus a form of meditation (which it is, I guess). When I did learn about meditation, it felt very esoteric and far removed from me, a watery Irish child. I imagined people wearing crystals and earth-toned clothing sweeping sage smoke into the corners of rooms. Years later as a young professional™ living in Bethnal Green, I would regularly meditate in the London Buddhist Centre. I’ve practiced yoga for over a decade, and I enjoy a gong bath as much as the next person. The cities I have lived in - Dublin, London and Berlin - are filled to the brim with Lululemon-clad yogis racing out of the office for the 19:15 vinyasa flow. All of this very much shaped my view of what makes you a ✨spiritual✨ person.

Back home, old men nursing pints are like extras in the background, always there. Sitting at the bar alone. No phone, no music, no newspaper. Often, they sit with arms folded, gazing at nothing in particular. They might exchange a few words with the barkeeper or someone a few stools down, statements and jokes tossed like paper planes, but it rarely amounts to a real conversation. They observe what’s happening in the pub, but not quite to the level you would call ‘people watching’. They stare at the mirrored glass behind the bar, turning a beer mat around in their hands. Often, there’s a glimmer of a smile to be seen as a memory is unearthed. Guinness is typically drunk in gulps rather than sips, and you can see the markings from each swallow etched along the emptying pint glass like tree rings.

Only recently did it dawn on me just how meditative this behaviour is. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Having a pint? Meditative?! The Alo Yoga huns are turning on their €98 mats!

But that is what meditation is at it’s very core: a moment of calm to reflect on what is moving through you and around you at that moment.

The view from the envied seat at the hearth in my local pub

I find it exceedingly beautiful that this group of older people, who generationally lacked any language to talk about meditation and mental health, found their own way to do so. The pub is an accessible community space where you can easily trapeze between social exchanges and socially accepted solitude. It’s often seen as an extension of the home, where one can be alone without necessarily feeling lonely. Even the pint of Guinness is quite symbolic: a physical object that represents tradition, craftsmanship, heritage.

This realisation made me think about the moments of life where we meditate “unconsciously”, perhaps by doing something routine or mundane: hanging up clothes on the washing line, the morning coffee, cooking dinner, having a shower, even smoking a cigarette. It’s perhaps an overly simplistic message, but just in case you’re feeling bad for missing your yuppie colour therapy yin yoga session - these things are nice, but we don’t need them. There are little meditations to be found everywhere: all you need to do is look.