📿 Can You Be Mindful at Happy Hour?

Finding quiet amidst the storm of life

In A Beer Pub II, 1939, Stanisław Osostowicz

In my teens and the first half of my twenties, I thought the spiritual path had to look a certain way. Retreats that were so rigorous that they would break you (or they don’t count). Sitting in ways where you cause yourself pain and pretend not to notice. Finding a Buddhist partner, or at least dating someone who also read Pema Chödrön. I thought I had to entirely cut out the things I enjoyed—bourbon, sarcasm, people who swore on purpose—in order to “get serious” about the path.

And like many people who come to meditation because they’re in pain, I tried that. I sat without ever moving. I tried many forms of yoga (none stuck). I took things Very Seriously. But the longer I tried to make myself fit some ideal of what a “mindful person” should be, the more disconnected I felt from the actual practice. And frankly, from myself.

What is the actual practice? Being with things as they are. Not affecting airs to appear spiritual but meeting this moment in its realest, rawest, most authentic state.

Then one night when I was 25 I found myself in a bar, Matt Murphy’s in Brookline (RIP Matt Murphy’s) having a very grounded, very open-hearted conversation with some friends about the nature of suffering. We were two (read: five) drinks in. We weren’t being ironic. And I thought: “Oh. This is it too.” This—having drinks with kind-hearted friends, simply enjoying one another’s company and talking about what matters—this is meeting this moment as it is.

That was when I developed an unusual birthday tradition that I carry on some 17 years later. After wrapping up my day, kindly navigating anyone who wants to surprise me or wish me well, I retreat to a dive bar where I will run into exactly no people I know. I order a whiskey, neat, and hide in the darkest corner of the bar. Then I take an hour and simply taste my whiskey. At times, I might muse about the year behind me, but mainly I take some space to just be alone with myself on my big day.

Somehow, it feels akin to the solo meditation retreats I’ve been on. People talk about the long hours you log when you do your own meditation retreat. But the thing no one tells you? Those other hours when you’re not meditating? You’re still alone with yourself, meeting the moment in that raw and vulnerable way. You can be making yourself a sandwich or taking a little walk around outside and it’s still you, with yourself and no distraction, being your most authentic self. I have always found those moments as important as the formal time logged on the cushion.

There is no replacing time alone with yourself.

Today, with a full-blown toddler who has figured out how to open my office door, I have less time alone than ever. I love that she can do this, to be clear. I could be in the middle of meditating or writing my next book and boom: toddler in my lap. And that too is practice.

Mindfulness isn’t just what happens on the cushion—it’s what we carry into the rest of our lives. It's being present for the hard stuff and the joy. The quiet and the clinking of glasses. It’s being so fully in your life that you’re not performing a version of it anymore. You’re living it.

So, can you be mindful and still love happy hour?

Absolutely.

In my experience, that might be one of the best places to practice.

Because mindfulness isn’t about escaping real life—it’s about showing up for it. It’s about learning that we can meet our life as it is and not feel overwhelmed by it.

That’s the whole premise behind The Buddha Walks into a Bar, a book I wrote fifteen years ago to offer my understanding of Buddhist teachings…without any ritual or the whisper voice some teachers try to affect. It was written for the version of me—and people like me—who were still figuring it out. Who wanted to live with more heart, but who also liked a good burger and an occasional swan dive into chaos.

I walked away from that book for a long time, focusing on Buddhism at the office, teachings on love and heartbreak, and specific remedies for anxiety. But there’s something calling me back to it, because right now, in this messy, chaotic moment we are living in, we need tools to show up authentically and as our best selves.

I don’t do traditional marketing. I hate it. I as a Buddhist writer and teacher am not trying to get anything from you. I’m here to offer things and if you find them helpful? Awesome, please join me. But I will share that I’m offering a six-month course based on that book—because I still believe we need places where we can explore these teachings without having to pretend we’re perfect. Or poised. Or done growing. Especially now, when so many of us are burned out, tender, and trying our best not to let the overwhelm eat us alive.

This course is not about becoming some idealized version of yourself. It’s about becoming more you—more honest, more spacious, more awake. We’ll explore Buddhist wisdom in the context of everyday life: work stress, relationships, creativity, anger, exhaustion, and yes, joy. Maybe even joy with a little gin in it.

To kick things off, I’m offering a free intro session with a very fancy title:

What If the Buddha Walked Into a Bar With You?

It’s exactly what it sounds like. Come as you are, bring a beverage of your choice, and let’s have a real conversation about what it means to live with intention and still keep your sense of humor. You’ll get a feel for the course, a few practices you can start using right away, and hopefully, a small reminder that you don’t have to change who you are in order to wake up. You just have to show up.

So if you’ve ever wondered whether your spiritual practice can include prosecco* consider this your invitation.

Those moments when I’m alone at the bar, sipping my whiskey? I feel a genuine connection with buddha-nature, the innate peace that exists within all of us. So here’s your invitation. The Buddha’s already waiting to hang out with you; buddha-nature is inside you already. All we have to do is pull up a stool.

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*Prosecco, or maybe a fun non-alcoholic drink if, like my wife, you don’t drink the hard stuff. Her current favorite is St. Agrestis Phoney Negroni which is all cocktail, no buzz. She’s perpetually looking for zero proof recommendations if you have any, please drop them into the comments!

P.S. For people longing to create their own spiritual writing, check this out