Seán Moncrieff: I’ve never taken part in an orgy

I’ve never taken part in an orgy.

Granted, I’ve never been invited to one. I don’t know anyone who has; I think. I don’t know what the selection process is or how you go about meeting other orgiers, if that’s a word. I don’t know what kinds of venues they choose, or what kind of fixtures and fittings are appropriate. Is it just a load of beds? Are there poles or chains? How well ventilated should it be? Lights on or lights off?

There’s also the mechanics: who does what to whom, who starts it off? Do you stand or lie on a bed? Most crucially – to me at least – is how come people aren’t mortally embarrassed? Leave aside the Hollywood depiction of sex, if most of us saw ourselves doing it, the sight of all that wobbling flesh might put us off for life.

Yet, presumably, there are people who might secretly harbour an ambition to attend such a gathering. Maybe it’s you.

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For clarity: it’s not me. Eww.

But it’s not just orgies. People have all sorts of unrealised ambitions: to climb Everest or learn the guitar or speak Spanish. And this is the time of year when they often resolve to put these plans into action.

Except they don’t. Sorry to burst your orgy bubble, but studies repeatedly show that about 80 per cent of new year resolutions are dumped by the time February rolls around. You could conclude from this that humans are weak-willed fools and, in some cases, this might be the case. Or they may be unfamiliar with the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths, one of which, more or less, is that Desire is Suffering – a phrase that’s been “interpreted” so many times that it’s difficult to know what Buddha meant by it.

He could be saying that the only way to live a content life is to want nothing; which might work if you’re a billionaire, and you already have everything. Not so much if you’re poor. He could be saying no pain no gain: to get what you desire will hurt.

Any long-cherished ambition will inevitably be constrained by the circumstances of your life, and by who you are

Or he could be saying that we reveal ourselves in our desires; or reveal the person we wish we were, but aren’t. Hence the pain. Any long-cherished ambition will inevitably be constrained by the circumstances of your life, and by who you are.

If you’re 50, you won’t play senior hurling. You may enjoy writing songs, but never be quite good enough to pen a hit. I’ve always wanted to go into space, but it’s highly unlikely I ever will. There are companies which, in the not-too-distant future, will be offering trips, but they cost $250,000 each. I don’t have that kind of money, and even if I suddenly did, I know there would be a long list of other things I’d prefer to spend it on. I’d be drifting weightlessly, trying to marvel at the blue globe that is our planet, but thinking, I wish I’d paid off the mortgage.

Accepting who you are and the perimeters of your life is a wise thing, but this is not to argue that you should give up writing songs or not swing a hurley in the back garden. Or go to an orgy, if that’s your thing.

There’s a balance between being realistic but still retaining joy and hope. Many years ago, I owned a pool table. I had this notion that I could play it every day and become hustler-good; or at least proficient. I did use it a lot, as did the kids and visitors to the house. But I never improved. Everyone else did: eventually, all my children were able to thrash me, which forced me to wonder why I had got it in the first place. But I came to realise that you can enjoy something without tethering it to the idea of “success”. You can enjoy something even if you’re crap at it.