Suntory Mindfulness

Or how I was pulled into the present by a glass of really good whisky

How is it that I’ve not written anything for over a week? I feel like I’ve experience some weird time dilation effect lately. Days blending into one long blur, a single stretched out event.

One thing that’s distracted me is starting a new software development contract. But I thought you were a therapist? Yeah, but I also write code, because I’ve done it for a long time and I enjoy it and it pays the bills. You know what it’s like when you start a new job - lots to pick up and get your head around. So that’s my roundabout apology for not having written anything for a bit.

I’m back now though, and what I wanted to talk about today is a simple experience of being present. It was my fortieth birthday recently. So far I’ve avoided any sort of existential crisis, but that could be because I’ve been in the midst of one for about ten years anyway. Frog in the boiling water and all that.

A friend bought me a really good bottle of Japanese whisky as a birthday present. Suntory Hibiki. Apparently, Hibiki means echo or resonance (correct me if I’m wrong here internet), and on tasting it I can understand why it’s the name of the whisky.

If you’ve ever experienced a really good piece of food, or wine, or whisky yourself, I think you’ll be able to relate to the experience. On my first taste, I was overcome with a quiet reverence. Nothing existed but myself and the glass and the whisky. I was forcibly dragged into the present moment, locked in a state of mindfulness as I my mind was entirely engaged in an act of appreciation and gratitude.

What I’m saying here is not that you should all be using whisky to exercise mindfulness, but that mindfulness and being present doesn’t have to be an act of meditation. It can be occur in the simple things that we all experience.

Getting out for a walk in nature and becoming a part of it. Standing in front of a piece of artwork and taking it in, or that sense of awe we get when walking into a beautiful building, like an old gothic cathedral.

Sometimes we just need a moment to experience a sense of wonder and awe. To get us out of the mundane and remind us that not everything is a predictable routine.

For me, those moments are a psychological reset button. A cleansing act of catharsis. They make me remember that there is more to life than my to do list. I think we all need to be reminded of that sometimes.

Much love
David

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