A young man was walking with his therapist.

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“I’m so sad,” he said. “My true love has abandoned me.”

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“Ah,” said the therapist, “but that is the past. Mindfulness tells us to concentrate on the here and now. Look at this delightful, purple heather blowing in the winter sunshine.”

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“And I’m so anxious,” said the young man. “I’ve been distracted at work, and I’m sure my boss is going to fire me.”

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“Ah,” said the therapist, “but that is the future. Mindfulness tells us to concentrate on the here and now. Listen to those seagulls, calling as they wheel above the cliffs.”

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They paused at the highest point of the bluff and looked out over the sea.

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“I’m so hungry,” said the young man. “I keep trying to remind myself of the good breakfast I ate before I came out - but that is the past, and mindfulness tells us concentrate on the here and now.”

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“Well, yes,” said the therapist, putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “and what you are experiencing offers an excellent reminder that bodily sensations anchor us in the present moment…”

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“And I’m so cold,” said the young man. “That wind is biting. I keep trying to remind myself that there is a warm fire waiting for me at home - but that is the future, and mindfulness tells us concentrate on here and now.”

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“Indeed,” said the therapist, squeezing the young man’s shoulder firmly, “and what you are experiencing offers an excellent opportunity to accept the present without trying to change it…”

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“Then I suppose I must accept what a wretched creature I am,” the young man said. “In the present moment, I have no relationship or career. I’m ravenous. I’m freezing, and my only human contact is with a man whose offers no advice other than to get used to it.”

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And he stepped forward over the edge, dragging the therapist with him as he fell.