WHAT is the point, you might wonder, of a stone beehive?

I have seen them in the ashram in Rishikesh where the Beatles learned to meditate and on the bleak and beautiful south-west coast of Ireland. I have seen them on Slea Head in Kerry, on the edge of the Atlantic, where it is often stormy and cold.

They were shelters for monastic drop-outs, serious ascetics who wanted to be alone with their contemplation of the divine.

There was a monastic tradition in Ireland going back a very long way, and those who engaged in it were a hardy lot or they didn’t survive.

And if they weren’t mad to go there, they would probably have passed as mad after a spell at the heart of the howling wind.

If they wanted an even more distant retreat, they went out to Skellig Michael, a scarred and blasted rock, and suffered even greater danger and discomfort.

Nowadays, meditation is often sold as a means to relaxation and clarity, freedom from stress and amenability to inspiration.

But a recent article in The Atlantic reports the discovery by researchers that many of those who meditate sleep uneasily and suffer mental and spiritual discomfort arising from their practice.

And why wouldn’t they, when they are taking on the spiritual exercises of the mystics who accepted that a life of dedicated reflection on the spirit within brought enormous challenges?

They........

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