Mindfulness has come from nowhere (seriously whod even heard of it until, like, five minutes ago?) to become ubiquitous to the point of being quite annoying. I would be terribly annoyed by it (how tiresomely over-invoked it is, how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and pious its disciples!) if I werent a rabid convert to mindfulness myself. But I am.

No one is more surprised by this than me. I am a sceptic by tradition: an arched eyebrow, with an option on a rolled eyeball, is all very much part of my shtick. I believe in Nurofen for pain and rigorously tested psychotherapy for the demons, and really very little else. God, tarot, reiki and feng shui, exorcisms, life decluttering and feeling the fear and doing it anyway are all pretty much the same thing as far as Im concerned. Specifically: nonsense.

Goldie Hawn speaking about mindfulness at Davos in January (ALAMY)

I think that self-improvement programmes are for losers, snake oil for those who feel bewildered by life but dont have the balls to risk formal therapies or organised religion, and that alternative therapies are placebos, assuming they work at all. (Admittedly, I took up with an acupuncturist about four years ago, but a) Im in denial about that and b) I never let him use the word Xi in my presence. Ive told him if he ever does I will get up and leave, even if there are needles in me.) Ive never read a self-help book, never even made a New Years Resolution that wasnt have more fun.

And yet somehow, here I am, as mindful as Ruby Wax crossed with Sadie Frost with top notes of Goldie Hawn, having not so much clambered on board the mindfulness bandwagon, as insisted I ride upfront, in the cab, so that I can see where were all going.

How does a sceptic turn mindful? In my case, with an app. Headspace is a neat, jazzy little download that sits on your smartphone and promises to change your life by leading you through 20-minute daily meditation practices voiced by a bouncy surfer from Somerset, a circus-trained ex-Buddhist monk called Andy Puddicombe. Its become incredibly successful in the two and a bit years since it launched, scoring more than two million downloads in more than 150 countries and turning Puddicombe into a poster-boy for mindfulness: Davina McCall, Arianna Huffington, Emma Watson and Millie from Made In Chelsea have all extolled his and Headspaces virtues. At The Priory treatment centres the app is dished out as part of the welcome pack.

The Headspace app and its creator Andy Puddicombe (GETTY)

I first downloaded it in the summer of 2013, my interest piqued by who knows what? Celeb patronage, the fact that the first 10 sessions are free, or possibly the buzz around the word mindfulness. I may be a sceptic, but I am also a lifestyle journalist, which means I have to be fully genned up on the thing everyone else is doing (ideally slightly before they realise theyre doing it), even if I suspect it for a load of crock.

I emerged from my first meditation session feeling very much like it was not a load of crock: within a week, I was hooked. Something about Puddicombes easy breezy, blokey, defiantly non-hippie delivery, or just the act of sitting quietly for a set period of time, resonated with me, sceptic or not. When my 10 freebie sessions had passed, I practically dropped my iPhone in my frenzy to pay for a year-long subscription.

I should say at this juncture that meditation is weird. Dont let anyone else tell you otherwise. Not even Hugh Jackman. You sit upright (and, FYI, in mindfulness circles the verb to sit gains whole new levels of awed reverence, and probably a capital letter. Did you Sit yet today? the mindful will ask each other, meaning, Have you meditated?) in a position that is supposed to be relaxed yet alert, you pay attention to your breath, and you chant or stay silent, or, in the case of Headspace, listen to an ex-Buddhist monk surfer tell you a thing or two about the human condition. And, yeah, that is a weird thing to do. Its nearly, but not quite, doing absolutely nothing, and who ever heard of such a thing? Particularly in this era of Tinder and WhatsApp and multi-channel television and hot-and-cold-running distraction? On top of being weird, its hard. Physically hard. I ached and also itched wildly when I started out. Even now, a year and a bit on, I have days when my back and shoulders so used to either constant support, or the latitude to shift about at will kick off in complaint.

Original post:
Mindfulness: does it really live up to the hype?