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There is a flicker of change in my brain. The conflict between what I want to do and how I feel about it, the resistance, has changed.

Before, when I was learning languages or playing the piano, time was dragging. I checked the time multiple times: 48 minutes in, 37 minutes in, 26 minutes in, 17 minutes in, 6 minutes in, and so on.

This time, this day, I didn’t check it. With the piano, I checked it when there were 5 minutes left of the lesson.

I won’t go into what triggered the switch for now, because it is too complex. If I were to say it briefly, the brain, and everything involved in life that we live, is interconnected: feelings like anxiety, sadness, loneliness, conflicts, confusion in beliefs, confusion about what one should be like, what attitude to have toward numerous things, goals, and daily living, the question of why live like this, and so on. Hope, state of focus, state of achieving what I want, work, relationships with others, and a thousand more things, if not more—they’re all connected. So, in my pursuit of clarity about what I want, and about what’s going on in my brain—the perceptions, thoughts, feelings, and condition of living, the anxiety about the future, plans, expectations, difficulties, and realities in terms of reaching the goal or not—I tackled all of those. I tackle them every day, except that this week, I finally made a breakthrough in living, in the brain. I listened to music that carries the message I give it, the tone of it. I seem to have resolved the conflict and see things clearly, being less confused about the dangers and risks of life, and the reason and display of my weaknesses and strengths, how I view them. The transformation I made within, and the resolving of issues within, has made me feel an outcome state. Some call it the state of flow, but this is just a verbal description. Verbal descriptions are never the actual thing. It’s clear: when you read something, a wisdom of some sort, a truth, merely understanding it verbally does not contribute to actually experiencing it. Like many times in life, we hear “don’t be scared, anxiety is not helping, it’s making things worse,” but unless you realize the actual thing behind that phrase, merely memorizing it does not make you feel any less anxious or more confident.

Having that out of the way, now I will discuss the two states, using words, hoping that I use them correctly:

Before, when I was learning the piano or a new language, time seemed to stretch on endlessly. It often felt like I was trapped in a state of boredom or frustration, where the challenge ahead didn’t quite engage me in a meaningful way. The task might have been difficult, but not in the way that made it rewarding. Instead, it was simply a struggle, and every minute seemed to crawl by. I found myself constantly checking the clock, as though waiting for the moment when the session would finally be over. It wasn’t the task itself that made the time drag; it was the sense of disconnection between my mind and the work I was doing. My brain, restless and looking for a break, couldn’t fully immerse itself in the process.

In contrast, now, when I’m learning or doing something I’m deeply focused on, time slips away unnoticed. There’s no ticking clock in the back of my mind, no anxiety about when the next break will come. What I experience now feels like the flow state: fully immersed in the task, with no worries about the passage of time. In this state, my mind is so engaged that I don’t even notice the hours slipping by. It’s not a matter of the task being easy or hard; it’s about being so absorbed in the moment that time itself becomes irrelevant. My focus is sharp, and the activity, whether it’s learning, writing, or anything else, becomes an intrinsic reward. There’s no pressure to rush, no worry about how much time I have left. The sense of urgency that once governed me is gone, and I simply exist in the rhythm of the work.

This shift in how I experience time is not just about the task itself. It’s about the way I engage with it, the way I allow my mind to step outside the constant swirl of daily concerns. The difference is clear: before, I was fragmented and distracted, always waiting for a break; now, I’m completely present, and time seems to slip away as I move through the work without effort. The transformation lies not in the task, but in how I approach it—fully engaged, without the pull of anxiety or impatience.

My internal notion of time shifts with the level of attention, engagement, and emotional state I’m in. When I’m in a flow state, my brain isn’t measuring time because it’s entirely absorbed in the process. But when I’m bored or struggling, my brain constantly checks time because it’s anticipating relief or a change in pace; it’s still caught up with all the problems of life within it.

I’m likely experiencing a state, which many call “flow,” where time feels like it flies by because I’m deeply immersed in what I’m doing.

So how do you flip the switch? Are you willing to understand yourself, the brain that you carry? Everything in the brain is interconnected; the whole brain is a network of neurons, and they influence each other. By making order out of this internal mess, you allow the brain to solve itself (the brain might come up with solutions on its own!). Out of this order comes something different—a new way of operating, learning, and living. How good are you at observing yourself from within? How much do you understand the problems of your life—not according to some psychologist or what some other brain, your friend, or family might say about you, but you, seeing it for yourself? How much are you aware? Do you want to change your life from within, letting the reality of the external world be changed from within out?