I’m lucky that I don’t really have a job ─ well not in the traditional sense of nine to five, Monday to Friday, with a boss. That’s not to say that I haven’t had that experience in the past. But pre my sixth decade on this planet it’s not a bad place to be. This opening statement may have a high probability of alienating you straight from the get-go, but please bear with me since it’s not all crêpes and champagne and the following meander is aimed at making life easier for all of us – no matter what your present circumstances. When I still had a boss to answer to the thought of ultimately lying in a hammock and contemplating the meaning of life seemed idyllic. But that was my Achilles heel ─ the habit of thinking. Indeed, at times, overthinking.
My head is usually alive with stuff ─ a mental storm regularly resulting in me waking at silly o’clock in the morning. The irony is that I have often wondered what it would be like to be activity free ─ in my head at least ─ to reduce the electrical pulses inside my brain, most of which are, I guessed, pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I am a worrier too. How do I know this? Because simply, I worry when I realise I have nothing to worry about.
Then a series of events led me to a potential remedy to this riddle – a route to mental relaxation. Could I eventually achieve Zen ─ inner peace, mental clarity, and a sense of mindfulness?
Ending up in the Maldives was mostly a case of persuasive erosion over time. So many people rave about it and even my football buddy, Melvyn, positively erupted in praise on one typically British October evening in Wealdstone ─ where, incidentally, Notts County won 6-1. So, curiosity won the day. The key question was, could I cope with doing fuck all, save drinking, eating and being waited on hand and foot, for seven days? Surprising as it may seem, this caused me significant concern as I always thought I should be doing something ─ especially thinking. As I boarded the plane there was, as usual, a lot going on in the world to reflect upon.
I tried my absolute best to capture chill from the very moment I clapped eyes on the Indian Ocean as it caressed the harbour wall directly outside of Malé airport. It was truly incredible! The clearest water source I had seen outside of my bathtub.
This was going to be easy I thought as I alighted the speedboat – my carriage to one of the hundred and eighty-seven inhabited islands. The forty-five-minute journey would, no doubt, commence the psychological decluttering process. If only it was that simple to turn off! Surveying the accompanying holiday makers and crew I began one of my favourite pastimes – people watching.
The American assassin ─ sharp jaw, impregnable dark sunglasses, with a myriad of tattoos on his legs, was acting like a quiet Russian. That didn’t fool me! He was the only one that looked unfazed when the speedboat broke down. He even confirmed the con when he sat down for lunch the next day with his partner and two children under the age of five. The CIA are cute! More unnecessary thinking! Could I actually do this and experience a less frantic frequency than seemed to have been a constant companion since forever? Maybe it would be incremental.
This holiday should have been my definition of hell since I’m no lover of water sports. I’m like Bambi on ice with much less coordination and I don’t like putting my head under water. Yet I smashed the canoe, blitzing between islands like a torpedo ─ once I had the rhythm. Whilst I have the body of Adonis ─ when he turned 93 ─ I burn more aggressively than paraffin and I have a bald head (predominantly by choice, with nature having a small say ─ the sides are still fertile) requiring factor 150 sunscreen to be slapped on in industrial volumes.
As I got into the swing of the all-inclusive package, eating and drinking became an effort. For the first couple of days I seemed to have a large plate welded to my left hand whilst my right held my alcoholic drink. One thing I did learn pretty quickly was that I had formed a close and meaningful relationship with my Maldives mate – Tequila Sunrise. Nothing was too much trouble for the attentive members of staff, who no doubt would have summoned a forklift to return me to my poolside bed had I wished. Nonetheless, I still had not captured contented chill.
Eavesdropping other conversations whilst cradling my umpteenth cocktail, I realised there is a universal law that mandates that where the supply of alcohol meets a beach you will always find someone from Essex. Talking keenly about The Blind Beggar pub I was tempted to join in but immediately reminded myself of my primary goal ─ unnecessary gossiping wasn’t on the action plan. But is switching off a good thing? Had I jumped to a conclusion that I would never actually achieve? Surely keeping the grey matter continually gyrating wasn’t that bad? Time to use my cognitive cogs to delve a little deeper into the psychology of calm.
In 2015, an incredible 16.1 million Americans reported experiencing crippling depression during the previous twelve months. Given that there appeared to be a lucrative industry dedicated to mindfulness and life coaching these statistics were grim. This observation was reflected in the number of randomised controlled trials — the gold standard for clinical study — involving mindfulness, with one in the period 1995‒1997, to eleven from 2004‒2006, to two hundred and sixteen from 2013‒2015. Nonetheless, getting an intervention right can mitigate a variety of both mental and physical conditions; for example ─ irritable bowel syndrome, fibromyalgia, psoriasis, anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder.
Benjamin Shapero, an instructor in psychiatry at Harvard Medical School (HMS) and a psychologist at Massachusetts General Hospital’s (MGH’s) Depression Clinical and Research Program, provided an honest appraisal of current professional remedies by concluding, “Many people don’t respond to the frontline interventions,” suggesting that there was also a need for alternative approaches.
Colleague Gaëlle Desbordes, an instructor in radiology at HMS and a neuroscientist at MGH’s Martinos Center for Biomedical Imaging, currently researching mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT) added, “My own interest comes from having practiced those [meditation techniques] and found them beneficial, personally. Then, being a scientist, asking ‘How does this work? What is this doing to me?’”
MBCT appears to support depressed patients by training awareness of “in the moment” instances ─ called interoception ─ which break the cycle of self-rumination ─ a form of negative, chronic, and persistent self-focus that is motivated by perceived threats, losses, or injustices.
Then something genuinely remarkable occurred. I stumbled into the art of meditation – probably for the first time in my entire life. In true Cluedo fashion I found myself on the balcony, in the hot tub, holding a drink looking upward. An explicit and meaningful “in the moment” just happened upon me.
Watching the majestic clouds gently traverse and kiss the evening sky, making the most dramatic fight scenes, faces, and animals, created purely by my imagination, instantly freed up my mind space. I drank in the cyclical force of nature that had been engineered since the earth began while still maintaining the ability to form utterly unique structures every time, and interpreted them completely independently through my own eyes. I sat there until the skin on my fingers resembled a much older and wiser man. And maybe this defining moment was more than just visual.
The next day I swam in the crystal-clear ocean that resembled a luxury bath (minus the bubbles) with silvery fish darting like arrows and the odd dramatic blue and green specimens further out. I ain’t a beach bum but this could definitely convert me. Exiting nature’s own jacuzzi I felt a tingle of something I’d not felt before. I was slowly beginning to appreciate the wall-to-wall chill that existed once I had triggered my willingness to give calm a chance – thanks to the clouds.
On the fourth day a chilled feeling that even put my toenails into stasis consumed me ─ an inner calm that allowed my mind to have the most intense expulsion of toxins ever; a detoxing mental dump that connected with the real reason for living. The Maldives is where I eventually encountered the real essence of the chill factor and in doing so realised that this state of mind is transferable. All it requires is effort.
Back home, and to some extent anywhere I lay my hat I’ll now always take a moment to suss out the clouds or peer aimlessly into the clear blue (or grey) above because my mind needs a break every now and then; the equivalent of a 5K run or a workout at the gym. Mind management is just as important. Catch your “moment” and hold on to it for a few precious minutes.
I recommend you give it a try.
And if I can’t persuade you, maybe the Dalai Lama can: “The greater the level of calmness of our mind, the greater our peace of mind, the greater our ability to enjoy a happy and joyful life.”
© Ian Kirke 2022 & all uncredited photographs.
@ianjkirke