One Foot in the Rave: Zen and the Art of Raving

Raves aren’t usually associated with spiritual practice. They’re loud, chaotic, often chemically enhanced—everything meditation is not. But for me, that day taught me something important: peace isn’t always about silence. It’s about intention.

Reading time: 4 minutes

Recently I was at a day rave in Bristol. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday, the atmosphere was friendly, the music was vibing, and people were out for a good time. My mate is an agent for some very cool artists, so we got to be side and backstage—which I always get a buzz from. The tunes were pounding, from dub to drum & bass. Happy days.

Around 6 p.m., I was still having a lovely time, but I could feel it was time for a pause. I meditate twice daily, once on waking and once before dinner. Over the last few years, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve missed one. It’s become a non-negotiable.

Before heading to Bristol, though, I’d resigned myself to not being able to meditate that day. I couldn’t see how I’d make it happen, and honestly, I didn’t want to have an awkward conversation where people might assume I was being overly “hippy” or alternative. Not the end of the world, of course—sometimes you just accept the circumstances and crack on. I never beat myself up about it. Nothing bad will happen if I miss one, but I really appreciate my meditation time and will always try to accommodate it if I can.

So, when the moment arrived, I could feel my social battery running out of juice. I had one foot in the rave and the other side-stepping out, ready for a reset. After a moments contemplation, I thought—why not just do it anyway?

I’m no stranger to meditating in settings far from peaceful. If I could just find somewhere to sit, I knew I could go inwards. Another thought crossed my mind though—what would people think? Might they think I was weird? That thought passed quickly when I realised that any opinions were irrelevant. I told my crew I was off to meditate and would be back in 20 minutes. Of course, they took no issue with it.

I found a bench up against a wall—ideal to rest my back. I quite liked that I could feel the vibrations from the stage and sound system. Moments later, a young man came and sat next to me. He was probably twenty years my junior. He told me his mates were all doing drugs, and he didn’t want to. He’d been trying to drink to keep up but had reached his limit and needed time out.

I had some water, so I shared it with him, and we started to chat. For someone who’d been drinking since 10 a.m., he was very coherent. He asked why I was sat on my own, so I explained that I’d come to meditate.

He was surprised but told me he’d always wanted to try meditation—he just wasn’t sure how. Recently though, he’d started getting into manifesting and was finding it surprisingly effective. His girlfriend had got him into it. He was clearly curious and keen to hear more and asked all about my process. We had a lovely chat.

He said he couldn’t wait to tell his girlfriend later, saying she would laugh at the fact that he’d been talking about meditation and manifesting at a day rave. Just before he left, he said:

“I’ve learnt loads from this chat, and I hope one day in the future my girlfriend is just like you—speaking to someone just like me and helping them too.”

We had a massive hug, and off he popped to check if his footy team had won and rejoin his mates. It was one of those lovely, random interactions—a moment of two people just passing through.

For me, conversations like this are signs of a shift in cultural openness to the practices. There is something happening right now. Yoga and meditation aren’t just for posh studios or wellness retreats anymore. More and more, we’re seeing breathwork at club nights, sound baths at festivals, and people talking about presence over pints. These aren’t fads—they’re signs of a yearning to feel connected in a world that’s increasingly luring us to disconnect.

As I started my meditation, I knew from that interaction that I’d made the right choice to go ahead with it. The serendipitous meeting had been valuable for both of us, in different ways.

The music didn’t stop. The bass didn’t lower. But within all of that, I found a different kind of peace—one that isn’t the absence of noise, but more about having moments—with yourself.

This moment reminded me that yoga doesn’t just happen in studios or on mats. It’s a way of being—tuning in when the world outside is loud. Meditation is one tool, but really, it’s about presence.

The purpose of this piece isn’t to encourage meditating in raves or extreme environments. It’s more about trusting yourself and honouring your needs, whatever they might be. However, if you do ever find yourself needing to meditate in an unlikely place, here’s my advice:

How to Meditate in Unexpected Places

Safety first – Make sure you feel secure, especially in public spaces. Let someone know where you are.

Ground yourself – A wall, bench, or tree can offer physical support and reduce distractions.

Use tools – Sunglasses, hats, or even a scarf can help create a sense of privacy.

Let sound be part of it – Don’t resist the noise. Notice it. Let it pass through you.

Set an intention – Even one deep breath taken with awareness counts.

After my 20-minute sit, the music somehow felt different. Not louder or quieter—just more… alive. I felt more present, no longer needing to chase the vibe or keep up with anyone. It reminded me why I meditate—not to escape the world, but to meet it more fully.

When I returned to my friends, a conversation sparked about meditation. People were keen to chat and share their thoughts or experiences. One guy even asked me to talk to his girlfriend about it, as she was curious to know what the benefits were. I was happy to—no one thought I was weird after all.

What struck me most about this experience is how often we hold back our authentic selves for fear of judgment. But when you honour your needs and show up as you are, people respect that. That afternoon, it created genuine connections—and I got to meet my own needs, too.

Next thing I knew, I was side stage watching some brilliant DJs with my lovely pal. I was fresh, reset, and with two feet firmly back in the rave.