The Magic Of Defocus

For most of my life, it’s been said about me that I worked harder than anyone else. Friends from school still tell me so. My first-year roommate at university said I worked harder than everyone in the residence — and still, my results didn’t outshine theirs.

One day, I did something different. I had studied as I normally would, but a few hours before the exam, I stopped. I threw my notes away, played music that made me feel like bubbles, laughed with friends, and let go. I felt the bubbles tingling through my body. I felt myself feeling alive.

Then I walked into the exam — and did better. Sometimes 10% better. It became a truth I couldn’t ignore: hard work alone wasn’t enough. I had to prepare — absolutely. But my best results came when I worked hard and then stepped back. When I allowed space. When I trusted the work and released the grip.

This isn’t about shortcuts. I always did the work. I still do the work. But I discovered the power of defocus.

Neuroscience supports this. When you stop intense focus, your brain activates the Default Mode Network — the part that kicks in when you daydream, walk, laugh, or listen to music. That’s when ideas connect and memory consolidates.

There’s also the Zeigarnik Effect — our brains fixate on unfinished tasks. And when you’re stuck in that state, you’re often stuck in the detail. Once you allow yourself to rest, the brain zooms out — it sees the big picture. Suddenly, the information becomes easier to access, and you’re more likely to find exactly what you need when you need it.

And then there’s priming — a psychological effect where your environment subtly prepares your brain to act in a certain way. When I listened to music that made me feel invincible, strong, and joyful, I wasn’t just relaxing — I was priming my brain to perform. The magic of defocus.

Here’s what I’ve come to believe: what you over-focus on traps you. Do the work — then let your brain take over. Let it breathe, let it play, and trust that you’ll deliver.

The magic doesn’t only come from effort. It comes from the moment you step away.