Alexandr Korol

When I tried it, I did it twice. Yesterday, I laid out a yoga mat, although it’s actually a Pilates mat, which is a bit thicker. I placed a pillow under my chest and a pad under my forehead. I lay on my stomach and trained myself to completely relax, directing all my energy and attention to my neck, shoulders, and back. After this session, I did it for at least an hour, maybe even more. I lost control and fell asleep. I had never experienced anything like that in my life before – falling asleep somewhere without being aware of it. I always wondered how people could fall asleep without controlling it. And then I fell asleep, completely disconnected. What’s interesting next? After that, I stopped feeling any tension in my neck and shoulders. It was all gone. It disappeared so much that there wasn’t even any phantom pain. It felt like when you’re a child before you start overworking yourself in school. Like when you’re a kid in the early grades, that’s how it felt – lightness. That’s what I noticed. And further, I noticed that when I did various tasks, this state of no tension remained. But as soon as I thought about an important task, all the tension returned to my neck and shoulders instantly – not from any physical cause or cumulative effect, but just from a thought. I’m studying this, working on it, trying to understand what it is, why, and how. It turns out that responsibility and hyperfocus are what immediately cause this tension. Imagine, it’s like psychology works this way – your mind instantly tenses everything. But if I were in a state like a selfish person who didn’t care, I wouldn’t feel any tension in my body, and nothing would tighten up. But I have tension, and many people experience this tension – some from anxiety, others from fear, or something else – but for me, it’s because of extreme responsibility. And for some reason, all of this tension is reflected in my neck and shoulders.
So today, I went for a massage and tried to get into that state again. But, you see, the image or approach can be different. You can imagine that you’re diving into something. Or you can imagine that something is entering into you, and both are correct. That’s the paradox. I started trying to do it again, like I did last time, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t switch myself, I couldn’t become that version of me from the future, I couldn’t shift to a different angle, I couldn’t enter another world, that frequency. I didn’t understand why. Well, I sort of understood. It was like I couldn’t aim properly, as if I had forgotten what I had focused on before. That thing I had focused on before had helped me then, but now it felt like I was trying to do something without anything to hold onto. Then I remembered that last time, I was listening to an audiobook about