A Simple Approach to Mindfulness — For People Who’ve Already Tried and Quit
I want to start with an admission.
The first time someone suggested I try meditation as a simple approach
to mindfulness, I mentally filed it under things I’d never do. Along with juice cleanses and networking events. It sounded like something for people who had too much time and not enough problems — a kind of spiritual hobby for the already calm.
I wasn’t already calm. I was working long days, going out a lot, and running on the assumption that keeping busy was the same as living life to the full. It felt like the opposite of everything I was doing. Which is probably why I needed it.
The moment I actually tried it was COVID. Specifically, the part where those of us used to a noisy, social workplace found ourselves suddenly working from home in whatever space we could find. I was in our spare bedroom — which was fine, except my fiancée was trying to study while I ran back-to-back video calls with no soundproofing to dull the noise. Teammates were in share houses, multiple people crammed around dining tables that’d become makeshift internet cafes. We adapted. We shared our learnings. And at a point, after being honest about how the situation was showing cracks in some of us, a colleague shared an article about what mindfulness could do — for focus, for stress, for generally not losing your mind while the world did exactly that.
So I gave it a go.
I distinctly remember what that looked like. Thirty minutes before bed, a video I’d found somewhere — soft footage of leaves blowing, water trickling, the full catalogue of stereotypical wellness imagery. I hated it. It felt designed for people who already expected to like this kind of thing. A gimmick dressed as a practice. I made it through a few sessions and gave up.
What I didn’t know then, and what took me a while longer to find out, was that I’d tried the wrong thing, for far longer than needed, in the wrong way. That’s not a character flaw. It’s just what happens when nobody guides you on where to start.
A simple approach to mindfulness — what it actually is (and isn’t)
Most people, when they hear mindfulness, picture someone sitting cross-legged on a cushion in a suspiciously tidy room, eyes closed, perfectly serene.
That image isn’t helpful. It sets an expectation that has nothing to do with the actual practice and puts off a lot of people who’d genuinely benefit from it.
Here’s a simpler definition: mindfulness is just paying attention to what’s actually happening, on purpose, without immediately trying to change it.
That’s it. You’re not trying to empty your mind. You’re not trying to achieve a state of bliss. You’re just noticing — what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling, what’s going on around you — without immediately reacting or reaching for your phone or making a mental to-do list.
Most of us spend very little time actually present in our own lives. We’re physically in one place and mentally somewhere else — rehearsing a conversation, replaying a mistake, planning the weekend, worrying about something that may or may not happen. Mindfulness is just the practice of being present, and so you bring mind back to the now. Again and again, because you will keep leaving.
Meditation is the formal practice that trains this — the equivalent of doing reps in the gym, for your attention. Mindfulness is what you’re building. The two often get used interchangeably, and I’ll admit I did the same for a long time. They’re related, but they’re not the same thing.
The science behind why it works is well documented — the Greater Good Science Center at Berkeley is worth a look if you want to go deeper.
Why most people give up
If mindfulness is that simple, why do so many people try it and quit?
I can speak from experience here. The first problem is doing too much too soon. Thirty minutes of meditation sounds reasonable if you read about it in an article. In practice, asking a completely untrained mind to sit still and focus for thirty minutes is like asking someone who’s never run before to start with a half marathon. I know this, because I did exactly that.
The second, and I think bigger problem is the wandering mind. Most people assume the goal of meditation is silence. So when thoughts keep coming, which they always do, for everyone, including people who’ve been meditating for decades, they decide they’re doing it wrong and give up.
What I eventually learned through the guided sessions I found later, is that struggling against a wandering mind is struggling against something completely natural. You’re fighting the wrong battle entirely. Success in meditation doesn’t come from an empty mind. It never did. It comes from noticing the mind has wandered, and gently coming back. That’s the whole practice — observing rather than resisting.
Once that reframed, everything got easier. Not easy. Just easier.
What actually works, and what I do now
The version of this that stuck for me is considerably less glamorous than what you’ll find on wellness Instagram.
Start small. Five minutes, and for me that’s as the day starts. Not thirty, not twenty, not ten. The trick is to make the ask so small you genuinely can’t say no to it. The same logic applies to any habit — want to start pushups? Aim for five. Or heck, even one. For meditation, two minutes counts. One breath counts. You’re building the identity of someone who does this, and that matters more than the duration.
Use a guided app. Trying to meditate without guidance at the beginning is like trying to learn to drive without an instructor. Possible, technically, but unnecessarily hard. I use an app called Healthy Minds. It breaks meditation down into themes and moves through them like a course, which keeps it interesting. The guided element was what I needed most — someone walking you through each step, from a simple body observation at the start through to a closing thought. No wind chimes, no waterfalls, no gimmicks. It also explains the why behind what you’re doing as you go, which matters. Understanding why something works makes you more likely to keep doing it.
Let your mind wander. Or more precisely, stop fighting it when it does. The moment of noticing you’ve drifted off thinking about dinner or an email you need to send, that moment of noticing, is actually a lot of the practice. You haven’t failed. You’ve done a rep. The whole thing is noticing and returning. Over and over. That’s it.
Be consistent. The compounding that works in investing works here too. Five minutes regularly beats sixty minutes once in a while. And if life gets in the way, which it will, five minutes once a week is better than none at all.
Beyond formal meditation
Here’s what I’ve come to appreciate: mindfulness isn’t something you only do on a cushion. It’s available all day.
Before a presentation when the nerves are building, I pause, take some deep breaths, aiming to notice what’s happening rather than just experiencing it.
In a conversation, actually listening rather than planning what I’m about to say, or even worse zoning out.
The office is often where things build fastest. Back-to-back meetings, issues landing from nowhere, pressing deadlines — it can become a whoozy experience that feels slightly out of control. So I find moments where I can. Deep breaths while listening to an update on a project going sideways. Two minutes walking around the office to get the blood moving. A cup of tea where each sip is a small grounding moment. Realistically, sometimes things move so fast that I drift through the day without catching any of it. But when I can, I try to bring myself back.
Movement helps most. If you can link walking to the water tap, or the gap before a meeting to a brief moment of attention, you can find small wins throughout the day without adding anything to your schedule.
None of this requires an app or a cushion or a scheduled block of time. Just a decision, made in the moment, to pay attention to what’s actually happening rather than what your mind is spinning about.
What changes, slowly
I’m not going to make big promises here. Big promises are part of why people give up when mindfulness doesn’t immediately transform their life.
What I can tell you is what I’ve noticed after a few years of inconsistent but genuine practice.
I’m a little less reactive. There’s a slightly longer gap between something happening and my response to it. That gap, small as it is, changes a lot.
I’m better at noticing when I’m spiraling — when a thought has grabbed me and taken me somewhere unhelpful, and I’ve gotten a little better at choosing not to follow it all the way down. Work is the worst for this. Replaying a presentation that didn’t land. Worrying about something that might not even happen. Noticing it is the first step to keeping things in perspective.
I’m more often actually present in conversations. There when I need to be, rather than half-there and halfway somewhere else.
None of this is dramatic. But it compounds, in the same quiet way that most things worth having do.
Where to start
Pick one of these. Not all of them. One.
Download a guided app. Set a five-minute timer. Sit somewhere comfortable, or do it on a walk. Follow the guide. When your mind wanders, and it will, try to notice it and come back. Do it again tomorrow.
Or simply this: next time you’re waiting for something – a coffee to brew, a meeting to start, a page to load, instead of reaching for your phone, just notice what’s around you. The sounds, the light, what you can feel. Thirty seconds. That’s mindfulness too. It counts.
I still have days where the formal meditation practice doesn’t happen. Sometimes I’m moving too fast and I adapt — walking to the train station, a quiet moment, sitting with my thoughts without a guide or a goal. I’ve realised I sometimes need to give myself the space to stumble across something — a creative thought, a solution to something I’ve been circling at work or at home.
I tread a fine line between trying to become a better version of myself and just being. Sometimes the most mindful thing I can do is put down the meditation, the app, the effort, and just be me.
That’s a good place to start too.
— Dave
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