The actual question is, will you be among the 96% of those who can use this military technique to fall asleep in two minutes?
All of us have experienced it, or at least, those of us who experience high levels of anxiety have. As we lay in bed, exhausted beyond belief, our minds raced, making it impossible for us to go asleep. We reached for the sinister blue lights on our phones, thinking to ourselves, “If only there was a way to fall asleep instantly?”
It turns out that there is, albeit given who I am, I’ll probably be in the unfortunate four percent for which it doesn’t work. Nevertheless, perhaps there is still hope for you.
Though science hasn’t yet developed a “on-off” switch for our brains, there is a military sleep technique that may be the next best thing.
Fitness instructor Justin Agustin used his platform to spread the word about this technique, which he claims works for an astounding 96 percent of individuals and can even put you to sleep in under two minutes.
How then does it operate?
The US Army, it seems, created the method primarily for “fighter pilots who need 100% of their reflexes” and for combatants who must be able to nod off in noisy, demanding environments.
You will go to sleep in a matter of minutes if you settle in and pay attention to your breathing.
Once you’ve mastered that area, you may begin to’shut it down’ by gradually relaxing your entire body, beginning with your forehead and facial features.
Make every effort to ensure that nothing is tight and that your arms are relaxed by your sides.
Feel the warmth rising from your head to your fingertips. Then, relax your chest by taking a deep breath; then, relax your thigh, stomach, legs, and feet.
You must visualize the warm feeling traveling from your heart to your toes.
Finally, the difficult portion.
Ideally, you should be free of any tension in order to aid in your own sleep.
Picture yourself in a cozy spot, such as curled up in a velvet hammock or relaxing on a heated boat on a serene lake.
For 10 seconds, tell yourself to “don’t think” if you are experiencing intrusive thoughts about the time you told a waiter to enjoy your dinner and you feel like you’re thinking about something else.
Hopefully, you will be able to fall asleep after this.
Though Agustin’s video may seem too wonderful to be true, comments on it show that there is some validity to the approach.
“I’m a military brat and was taught this,” one commenter said. This was also taught by a seasoned psychology professor I had in college. It is undoubtedly effective.”
Another said: “Pretty sure this is closer to what is called Progressive Muscle Relaxation which was developed by an American physician in 1908.”
And that’s it – pleasant dreams!
The Gift of Fido
The silence in my small house had grown louder with each passing year. Old and alone, the days stretched out, often indistinguishable from one another. I thought about getting a dog, a creature that would fill the emptiness, a warm presence against the encroaching quiet.
One chilly afternoon, shuffling through the familiar streets, I saw him. A small, scruffy shape huddled near a bin, dirty and clearly hungry. He looked up as I approached, his eyes wide but without fear. I knelt down slowly, offering a tentative hand. He didn’t flinch. I stroked his matted fur, spoke softly to him. When I stood up to leave, he simply followed, a silent, trusting shadow.
Now, he is my dog. My Fido. I am his human, his owner, though it feels more like we own each other. The silence is gone, replaced by the soft pad of his paws, the occasional sigh, the happy thump of his tail against the floor.
I talk to him constantly, sharing my thoughts, my worries, the mundane details of my day. He answers in his own way – a tilt of the head, a soft whine, or his favorite response, a vigorous wash of my hand with his rough tongue.
“Fido,” I’d told him just the other day, the worry etching lines deeper into my face, “tomorrow we won’t have anything to eat. The retirement money is gone, finished. We’ll have to wait until pension day!” He just licked my hand, as if to say, “We’ll figure it out, together.”
And then that blessed day arrives. I join the queue, a line of fellow retirees, each clutching their worn pension book, shattered by time and use. My own is tight in my hands, a thin lifeline. Fido, tied patiently nearby, shakes himself happily, a little dance of anticipation. He knows this day. He knows that today the bowls will be fuller, the meal a little richer, a little better than the thin gruel of the days before.
Winter arrives, wrapping the house in its cold embrace. Without a fire, the air bites. But Fido is there. Curled tightly against my legs on the worn armchair, or tucked beside me in bed, his small body is a furnace, a constant, reliable source of warmth that chases away the chill. He is more than just a dog; he is my living, breathing blanket against the cold world.
The first hesitant rays of spring find us sitting outside, bathed in the gentle warmth of the returning sun. We sit in comfortable silence, simply existing, together, grateful for the light, for the warmth, for each other. And from deep within my heart, a simple prayer is born, a quiet whisper of profound gratitude: “Thank you, Lord, for creating the dog.” For creating Fido, who found me when I was alone, and filled my life with warmth, conversation, and unwavering companionship.
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