Mindfulness, a form of meditation that encourages people to focus on the present moment, has become increasingly visible in everyday society. Not just a celebrity fad, many see mindfulness as useful to help cope with a stressful modern world. In medicine, mindfulness is seen as useful in tackling depression and is recommended by the NHS. An Oxford University study conducted in 2014 found that it can reduce relapses into depression by 44 per cent. It has given rise to new books and training courses used in businesses and even prisons; the popular Headspace app, launched by a former monk from Bristol, is now worth £25million. And in the arts, too, the Barbican recently hosted the world premiere of Lost in Thought, a ‘mindfulness opera’ incorporating meditation and yoga. 

The cultural heritage of mindfulness in Buddhism lends it religious and cultural authenticity, allowing for the embrace of spiritual elements without fundamentalist or evangelical beliefs, while its accepting and non-judgemental ethos appeal to many.

Yet mindfulness has its detractors. Psychologists Miguel Farias and Catherine Wikholm suggest meditation can have dangerous side-effects such as twitching and raised levels of the stress hormone cortisol. Oxford University academic Theodore Zeldin argues that encouraging individuals to escape into a state of ‘blank mental oblivion’ is nothing to celebrate. Others worry that ‘living in the moment’ avoids taking responsibility and actively engaging with the world. Some even suggest that mindfulness is little more than a pseudo-religion for the mildly hypochondriac and self-obsessed people of the contemporary West.

How should we explain the rise of ‘mindfulness’ in the twenty-first century? Does it fulfil a spiritual need for a secular age? How can we make sense of its spiritual dimension? Is mindfulness a lucrative scam or just another self-help technique that works in particular circumstances?