I wanted to lie down on the couch.
I’d been sitting at the computer for a couple of hours, and I really really wanted to go and stretch out and relax on the couch.
The couch was right there…12 feet away.
But then I thought…
What if I focus on the good feeling of relaxing on the couch, rather than actually doing it?
What are the limits of my ability to focus on relief and relaxation as the desired outcome of lying on the couch?
After all, lying on the couch is a neutral action. You can lie on a couch and feel stiff and terrible, just as you can say the words “I feel good” while feeling horrible.
I want to lie on the couch because I believe doing so will relieve tension and discomfort from sitting for too long.
But is it necessary to get up and go lie on the couch in order to feel that?
As a test or experiment, I thought I’d find out how couch-like I could feel without actually getting up and going to lie on the couch.
It turns out I’ve never really appreciated lying on a couch as much as when I didn’t actually lie on it.
The process of getting deeper and deeper into couch-like relaxation revealed hidden resistance.
For example, in the past I’ve hurt my back numerous times, and so I have an ingrained fear of arching my back unsupported in case I pull a muscle in my lower back.
It’s a protective habit, but it means I’m walking around with this guarded tension in parts of my back.
Why can’t I relax without lying on the couch? It turns out I can, I’m just not used to it.
This weird little experiment of declining to recline demonstrates that I can evoke feelings of relaxation and letting go, without taking the action that I usually associate with those feelings.
It also suggests that action can sometimes stand in the way of truly changing how I feel.
The action of lying down might relax me to some degree, but it also stops me learning how to relax without lying down, which is far more valuable to me.
After about ten minutes focusing like this, I went and lay down. Surprisingly, it was harder to relax lying down than when sitting. It was harder to relax because lying down hadn’t truly relaxed me, it had just taken away the pressure.
I wasn’t learning to let go, I was just relieving the worst of the burden.
In this sense, action can be counter-productive at times.
It can relieve the pressure that would otherwise motivate us to change our behaviour – like learning how to properly relax.
It can also confuse us as to what we really want.
For example, I thought I really wanted to lie on the couch. But it turned out that I really wanted to feel relaxed and relieved…and by resisting the more obvious course of action, I learned that I could feel relaxation and relief even in an uncomfortable position.
Isn’t that exciting? That means it wasn’t even really about the position or the action (or lack thereof), but about something in my mind from the beginning.
If I can use my mental focus to relax, then presumably it was my lack of focus, or my focus on something else, that caused my tension to persist in the first place.
Doesn’t that imply that I can feel relaxed and relieved of pressure whenever I like?
This idea of mental relaxation through visualisation is nothing new. I’ve heard it before many times but never succeeded in applying it.
I think that might be for melancholic reasons.
Simple tricks or techniques to relax (or for any purpose) tend not to appeal to melancholics because of our deep desire for meaning.
That’s why I’ve only used this technique successfully now, because it fits into the broader context of how one’s experience of reality, feelings, and thoughts, flow from one’s point of focus.
I think this serves as a useful experiment in “positive thinking”.
In the process of changing my focus I discovered that I didn’t want what I thought I wanted, that my usual course of action was usually only a half-measure at best or counter-productive at worst, and it also brought me renewed excitement and curiosity as to the broader applications of this technique.