‘Just be in the present moment': the tyranny of western McMindfulness

Irish Times

2 days ago

Sometimes, the present moment is precisely what we need.
Sometimes, it is unbearable.
The present moment is not a benign psychological state of calm and tranquillity; it is to be approached with caution because it is potent with possibility and the potential to unravel our cobbled-together lives.
'Just be in the present moment,' we might say to the overstretched parent, the struggling adolescent, the commuter getting home in the dark or the junior doctor 11 hours into another Friday night working in A&E. Often this is a heartfelt and well-intended response to witnessing our fellow humans in distress; an expression of a genuine desire to offer comfort and support. However, this is not always the wisest response; it ignores what we know about the human mind, obscures the structural issues that underpin much human distress and runs the risk of victim blaming.
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Like every generation before us, when faced with the inevitable challenges of being human, we seek simple solutions to complex problems. We turn to our contemporary healers seeking a balm or a quick fix for the troubled heart and mind and the exhausted body. And now, more than ever, we place our hope, perhaps too readily, in the promise of the present moment, overestimating its power and mistaking it for a cure.
These minds of ours seem to have minds of their own sometimes. Racing ahead, spiralling back, caught in loops or worry and scenes we never meant to replay. There is little doubt that the human mind needs to be rescued from the rollercoaster of worry and rumination, the cycle of graphic catastrophisation we are all gripped by from time to time. However, the imperative to simply 'be in the present moment' is often a well-meant but naive response that fails to grasp the complexity of the human mind.
The 'just be in the present moment' cultural obsession has taken firm root over the past two decades, emerging in part from the oversimplification of mindfulness meditation. This trend has been described as 'McMindfulness': a westernised, reductive, fast-food version of Eastern meditation practices, stripped of their ethical and moral foundations.
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Experienced meditators might smile at the naive expectation that one could inhabit the present at will or, indeed, remain there for prolonged periods of time. Or that 'being in the present moment' is a straightforward choice; like flipping a switch and we're suddenly in the arms of the present moment, luxuriating in contentment and calm.
Worryingly, the present-moment obsession locates the source of distress firmly within the individual, overlooking the structural and systemic conditions that underlie so much human distress. In so doing, the concept of 'the present moment' is co-opted to serve an increasingly individualistic and meritocratic social narrative.
The current obsession with the present moment also plays into the lucrative wellness culture we find ourselves immersed in. A wellness culture that also seeks to exist in the absence of meaningful social critique. This culture places an unsustainable burden on individual bodies and minds, demanding self-optimisation without addressing the broader conditions that cause distress. In such a culture underpinned by insatiable individualism, we find ourselves stumbling towards a new kind of exhaustion, present-moment burn out.
Sometimes, the present moment is simply too much to bear. Sometimes, it's too painful. Sometimes it's overwhelming. And fundamentally, that is not a failure of will; it is simply not how the human brain works. Advances in neuroscience tell us the brain does not behave like a machine, responding to commands, and switching gears on command. It is the product of millenniums of evolution, shaped to anticipate, remember and protect. It does not yield easily to commands such as 'just relax', 'don't be worrying' or 'be in the present moment'.
Our brains are primed for vigilance, to detect threats, escape danger and act fast, not linger and reflect. This immediacy and reactivity once gave our ancestors a survival advantage in a threat-ridden world. It's a 'better safe than sorry' brain in the main; reflection weighing the pros and cons comes later; survival comes first.
The human brain's ability to psychologically avoid and deny the present moment is a highly evolved way of protecting ourselves from being overwhelmed. At times it might be the only option, even the wisest one, when life's harshness is unrelenting, when the forces of social and economic deprivation offer no reprieve, and when the lottery of life seems incessantly cruel.
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'Just be in the present moment'
can be a brutal ask that risks exposing the human heart and soul to more than they can bear. In the face of adversity, temporary emotional avoidance may be precisely what's called for. Denial, so often maligned by present-moment enthusiasts, can in fact be our ally. It can serve as an adaptive, protective and even compassionate reflex in the face of the cruelty we can encounter as we make our way through this life.
The danger lies in becoming trapped in a pattern of denial: the psychological toll involved in persistent denial is considerable. A little denial can go a long way, but we get into trouble when avoidance becomes a way of life. A life lived in a continual state of denial and avoidance will blunt all of life; we risk living a life that feels hollowed out, flattened.
In the present moment we are invited to bow to our smallness and insignificance, where we recognise our place in the vast web of existence, our place in the 'family of things' as the poet Mary Oliver described it. The immensity of the universe is laid bare when the present moment is encountered; this immensity slowly and softly reveals itself to us, offering an invitation to breathe deeply and live more wholeheartedly.
In the presence of this moment, our interconnectedness is felt viscerally again, as if for the first time. The present moment pulls the rug from beneath us, uproots us from an anaesthetised individualism and reawakens us to the sharpness and subtlety of our shared humanity. Our long-standing ill-at-ease, out-of-sorts hen on a hot griddle eventually gives way to a bewildering vastness: sparkling with marvellousness and insignificance, tipsy on the freedom of it all.
Our current cultural obsession with the present moment often obscures its radical potential, attempting to neutralise its potency. The present moment does not exist in an abeyance of our past or our imagined future. The present moment is never cut off from our past or imagined future; it is carried on the wings of memory and anticipation, rooted in what has been and lifted by what might be. The present moment, nestled quietly here, is not a refuge of sameness or shallow calm. It is the threshold where the familiar comforts of predictability begin to loosen, making space for the life that has been quietly waiting for us all along.
Dr Paul D'Alton is associate professor at the school of psychology, UCD