Cognitive shuffling
Cognitive shuffling (the cognitive shuffle) is a way to fall asleep by picturing random, unrelated things, one after another, so your mind can't build a worry out of them. Pick a word, then picture a few objects for each of its letters. If that feels like work, let a story supply the pictures instead.
The Settle · Updated 7 October 2026
How to do it tonight
- Pick an easy word with no feelings attached, like "bread" or "shore".
- Take the first letter and think of a word that starts with it: B, a bike.
- Picture it for a few seconds. Its colour, where it's leaning. Then another B word: a bench, a barn.
- When B runs dry, move to R, and so on through the word.
- Don't link them. If two pictures start to make a story, or a thought about tomorrow sneaks in, just picture the next thing.
Why it's meant to work
As you fall asleep, the mind lets go of sense and starts drifting through loose, disconnected images. Worry is the opposite: one thought linked tightly to the next. Cognitive shuffling, which Luc Beaudoin at Simon Fraser University calls serial diverse imagining, tries to imitate the drifting so the linking can't take hold. That's why people reach for it when racing thoughts or anxiety keep them up. The studies so far are small and early, so treat it as worth a try, not a sure thing.
When shuffling feels like work: let a story do it
Choosing words is still a task, and on a bad night tasks keep you awake. This walk hands you the pictures instead: a gold road on the water, white walls, a gull far off, cool sand. Nine of them, slowly, then the sea.
- Three to see
- The sun's gold road on the water
- The white walls of the village
- The lighthouse, not lit yet
- Three to hear
- The waves over the small stones
- A gull, far out
- The grass on the dunes
- Three to feel
- Cool sand under your feet
- A wave over your feet
- The day's warmth in the sand
Read the words
This is The Settle. A short walk on the beach, for a night when your mind won't stop. Three things to see. Three to hear. Three to feel. Eyes open or closed, it doesn't matter. Just walk with me.
It's the hour before sunset, on a small stretch of Spanish coast. You come down the old stone steps from the village, and onto the sand. It's soft at first, and dry, then firmer, where the tide has been. You walk along the water's edge. There's no one else here.
Three things to see.
The first is the sun. It's low now, off to your left, over the sea. It lays a road of gold across the water, all the way to the shore. The road moves a little with every wave, but it never breaks.
The second is the village behind you. The white walls have gone the colour of warm bread. One window catches the sun and holds it, like a small lamp.
The third is the lighthouse, at the far end of the beach. White, and tall, and quiet. Its light isn't on yet. It's waiting for the dark, the way it does every evening.
You stop walking. Three things to hear.
The first is the sea. A wave comes in, slowly, and spreads itself thin across the sand. There's a pause. Then it draws back over the small stones, and they roll together with a sound like rain on a roof. Then the next one comes.
The second is a gull. Far off, over the water, it calls once, and then again, further away. Then it's gone, and the sky is quiet.
The third is the grass on the dunes behind you. A little wind comes in off the sea, and the long dry grass moves in it. A soft hush, rising, and falling, and rising.
You walk on. Three things to feel.
The first is the sand under your feet. Cool here, and damp, and firm. Each step presses in a little, and the sand keeps the shape of it for a moment, before the water smooths it away.
The second is the sea. The edge of one wave runs further than the others, over your feet. It's cooler than you expect. It stays a moment. Then it slides back, and leaves the sand shining.
The third is the warm sand, higher up the beach. You sit down where it's dry, and the day's warmth is still in it. It takes your weight. There's nothing left to carry.
The sun is down now. The gold has gone from the water. At the far end of the beach, the lighthouse comes on by itself. Its light turns slowly out over the sea, and comes round again, every twelve seconds. Down by the water, a small cottage has a lamp in its window.
The sea keeps going. In, and out. You don't have to. The light is keeping the watch tonight, so you can let the day settle.
Questions
What is cognitive shuffling?
A way to fall asleep by picturing a stream of random, unrelated things: pick a word, then picture one object for each of its letters (for 'bread': a bike, a bench, a barn...). It was developed by Luc Beaudoin at Simon Fraser University, who calls it serial diverse imagining.
Does cognitive shuffling work?
Early studies are encouraging but small, mostly from Beaudoin's own group, so it isn't proven. The idea fits what sleep scientists know: drifting, disconnected images are what the mind does as it falls asleep, and planning or worrying holds that off.
What are some cognitive shuffling examples?
Take the word 'shore'. S: a sandal, a sail, a spoon. H: a hat, a hammock, a hen. O: an orange, an owl, an oar. Spend a few seconds on each picture, then move on. If you finish the word, pick another.
What if cognitive shuffling feels like work?
It can, especially when you're tired and anxious. The alternative is to let someone else supply the pictures: a slow story, or a short guided walk, gives the mind scenes to drift through without you having to choose them.
More for tonight
- A short sleep story for adults
- 5-4-3-2-1 grounding for sleep
- The 3-3-3 rule for sleep
- What to visualize to fall asleep
- How to fall asleep in 5 minutes
- How to stop racing thoughts at night
- Can't sleep because of anxiety
If you've had trouble sleeping for months, or it's making daily life hard to cope with, talk to a GP. A story is a way to wind down, not a treatment.