Saturday night in Donleavy’s. The place was heaving. At this stage I’m sure you’ve gleaned that Donleavy’s is not your ‘run of the mill’ pub. Donleavy’s is special. Not too many places these days with no TVs, no pipe music, no juke box, no vending machines, no pool table, no dart board, no floor service, no fruit machines (perish the thought). Another aspect that‘s notable is that although the pub was as busy as an anthill at a picnic – there were still three unoccupied stools at bar. There were no reserved signs on these locations but in the head of every imbiber there was definitely a virtual embargo on the use of these accommodations. For these were for the sole and unshared use of our three amigos – JP, Rasher and Mono. There was no written contract in this regard – and if you asked Donleavy – he would probably just shrug. But all the other punters were crystal clear – those stools were for the exclusive use of the three lads.
And…on cue…our three gentlemen took their places on stools clearly ordained as theirs by divine right and seamlessly signaled to Donleavy that three creamy pints were required to complete the picture. Ahead of all the others who were queuing at the bar, a trio of pints appeared in front of our heroes. The lads sat immobile and stared at the recent incoming. There was a ritual here that needed to be played out. Patience was required. And delayed gratification. And maturity. And a display of subconscious concentration. And focus. And control. And calmness. But most of all – patience. No words were spoken, and it wasn’t clear to any onlooker as to who moved for their pint first, but a synchronized reaching, uplifting and drinking took place, that if it were admitted as an Olympic event – these guys would have taken the gold way ahead of any competition. These were masters of the craft.
“Ever practise Mindfulness lads?”, JP enquired of his two drinking partners.
“Don’t even know what it is.”
“Naw. I’d get laughed ourra it.”
They went back to staring at their pints.
“What is it anyhow?”
JP looked from one to the other and slowly replied
“You’ve probably done it there a few minutes ago.”
“What y’mean?”
“Starin’ at yer pint.”
“That’s Mindfulness?”
“Kinda.”
“Hey – I’m all on for it, so. “
JP went on to explain about being aware of the moment and being tuned to it and that staring at a pint might be a 101 version only – but still – it was focusing on a moment. Rasher and Mono seemed kind of pleased that they could now claim to understand what Mindfulness was, that they could claim to have done it – and all from the comfort of their own bar-stool. In the interim there had also been some quenching of the thirst resulting in glasses getting below a critical safety level, so Mono signaled for reinforcements.
“Wha’ brought Mindfulness into yer mind? That sounds funny, JP, doesn’t it? Anyway – how’d ya come to think of it.”
“That Bishop’s letter to the schools.”
“Oh yeah”, Mono piped in “I read about that.”
“Wha’ was that about?”, Rasher inquired.
JP went on to explain that a Bishop had written to all the Catholic schools in his area saying that Yoga and Mindfulness weren’t of Christian origin and weren’t suitable to be done in schools.
“So, let me get this straight”, Mono stared hard at JP, “Mindfulness is like starin’ at somethin’ and listenin’ to yerself breath, yeah? And Yoga is a bit of tha’ with some body positions thrown in?”
“Yeah – pretty much.”
Mono let out a slow breath. Rasher threw his eyes up to the ceiling. Rasher threw out a question.
“JP – who was the fecker in Rome playing the fiddle?”
“Wha’ – where are ya at now?”
“Ya know – when the city was burnin’ ”
“Oh, yeah, Nero.”
“Nero – yeah, that’s the feen. Isn’t this Bishop fella a little bit of a Nero. Shouldn’t he be a bit more worried about how few bums on pews there are these days. Maybe if he did a little less worrying about breathin’ and sittin’ around?”
The lads did a bit of trawl for some of the problems of our times. Homelessness. Addictions of all types. Trump. Brexit. Syria. Turkey and Syria. Middle East. North Korea and Trump. Hong Kong. China and Trump. Ebola. Russia and Trump. Alzheimer’s. Racism. Hunger. Misogyny. Aids. Poverty. They could have gone on for a long time and they didn’t think they would ever get to Yoga or Mindfulness.
“Can you just imagine it? Imagine it was a telephone call – Bishop to School.”
“Yeah. Go on….”
“Here’s how it might go….”
“Hello.”
“Yeah, howya.”
“This is the Bishop.”
“Wha’….I’m busy…stop messin’….who the hell is this?”
“This is the Bishop. I want to talk to you about some of the items on your school curricula.”
“Wha’?
“Your school curricula. I’m not happy about Yoga and Mindfulness. They are not of Christian Origin.”
“Wha’? Neither are half of d’other subjects. Don’t think Computer Aided Design or Microsoft Office figured with St Peter. What’s yer point?”
“Well the Pope doesn’t recommend Yoga either.”
“Well the Pope mightn’t recommend mechanical drawing or home economics either, so I still don’t get yer point.”
“You might consider the Rosary?”
“You might consider getting over yerself?”
“Sorry. What did you say? Well…..I never…..”
“G’luck. I’m busy. I still think this is a prank call. And if this is you messin’ Murphy – I’ll brain ya.
Our heroes had a good chuckle. Seemed like a reasonable summary of what the conversation might sound like. Thirsty work this type of creativity. More pints were called for.
JP@Donleavy’s 