Mindfulness for sceptics

If the word "mindfulness" makes you roll your eyes, you're in good company. It's been used to sell everything from colouring books to scented candles, and it can sound like advice to sit cross-legged and empty your mind while your inbox fills up.

So it's worth separating the marketing from what mindfulness actually is, and what the evidence does and doesn't say.

What it is, in plain terms

Mindfulness means paying attention to what's happening right now, on purpose, without immediately judging it. That's it. You notice your breathing, the taste of your tea, the tension in your shoulders, or the thought "I'm going to mess this up", and you let it be there without being dragged along by it.

The modern version was developed in the late 1970s by Jon Kabat-Zinn, a scientist at the University of Massachusetts. He drew on Buddhist meditation but stripped out the religious elements and created an eight-week course for patients with chronic pain. That course, mindfulness-based stress reduction, became the model for much of what followed.

What it isn't

It isn't emptying your mind. Minds wander constantly, and noticing that yours has wandered, then bringing it back, is the practice itself. Most people who think they're "bad at it" are simply doing it.

It isn't relaxation, although it can be relaxing. Sometimes paying attention means noticing that you're anxious or sad.

It isn't about accepting a bad situation. It's about seeing it clearly so you can respond rather than react.

What the evidence says

The evidence is more mixed than the hype, and more positive than the cynics suggest.

There's good evidence for some specific uses. In the UK, NICE recommends mindfulness-based cognitive therapy for people who've had repeated episodes of depression, because trials show it can reduce the chance of relapse. A large 2014 review in JAMA Internal Medicine found that meditation programmes produced moderate improvements in anxiety, depression and pain.

There have also been disappointments. A large Oxford-led study of mindfulness lessons in UK secondary schools, published in 2022, found they didn't improve pupils' mental health any more than normal lessons did. Some people also find meditation brings up uncomfortable thoughts or feelings, especially if they've experienced trauma.

So mindfulness isn't a cure-all. It's a skill that helps many people with stress, low mood and pain, and it works best when it's practised regularly and taught well.

Why it often doesn't stick

Yale psychologist Laurie Santos, who teaches one of the university's most popular courses on happiness, makes a point that applies here. Knowing what's good for us doesn't change much on its own. Reading about mindfulness is pleasant. Practising it is what makes the difference.

Santos also points out that we're poor at predicting what will make us feel better. Five minutes of sitting quietly sounds boring compared with five minutes on our phone. Afterwards, though, it's usually the quiet five minutes we're glad of.

A test for sceptics

Rather than taking anyone's word for it, run a small experiment. For two weeks, spend three minutes a day doing this: sit comfortably, breathe normally, and count each out-breath up to ten. When you lose count, which you will, start again at one. That's all.

At the end of the fortnight, ask yourself honestly whether anything changed: your sleep, your patience, how quickly you notice you're getting stressed. If nothing did, you've lost very little. If something did, you've found a tool that costs nothing.

Where to get support If you're living with depression, anxiety or the effects of trauma, speak to your GP or a mental health professional before starting an intensive meditation course. You can refer yourself for NHS talking therapies in England.