Back in college, as a student of Yoheved Kaplinsky, I was introduced to "rotation", or Talbman (named after it's originator Dorothy Talbman, with whom Dr. Kaplinsky studied directly) technique. I am not a perfect practitioner of the approach, but have held on to it's basic principles as foundational to my own physical prowess to express from the piano. At its core, it is about using (our own) weight and momentum as the catalyst for piano technique, as opposed to unnecessary muscle involvement. When it is first introduced to a student, they will often be asked to sit at the edge of the bench and let their arm hang limp alongside. The teacher may lift up the arm and, while positioning themselves to break the fall, ask the student to let their arm fall freely. This is met with varying levels of success. Occasionally you get a dead weight arm (the goal) the first time. More often, though, when the arm is "dropped", it moves very little, sometimes frozen stiffly in place. It is difficult to let go. Feels unnatural, or perhaps better, as a loss of control. To let go is to feel vulnerable, until you come to realize that it is not only safe (given the proper landing), it is, in fact, the most natural way to be. What a student is told, once they are willing to "fall" into the piano key, is to land on their fingertip, supported by the first finger joint, and "stand" on the note, as opposed to pushing the key down with the finger or arm muscles. It is, indeed, as effortless as (and analogous to) walking. What happens when you put one foot on front of the other? You don't stomp your foot down as you go (unless you are having a tantrum), rather you allow gravity to effortlessly pull your foot down to the ground, and then you stand on it, supported by your ankle joint. Generally, we are not taught how to walk, because it is natural. We will work through the phases (sitting, crawling ...) until we get to the place we are supposed to be. So, something organic and natural, like walking, can become a foundational model to other pursuits. And this certainly is so with regard to playing the piano, at least through the prism of rotation technique. 
But there seems to be a general lesson here as well, to work with the forces at play, and become harmonious with them. It folds into that bigger picture of getting out of our own way when expressing through music (or anything else). But back to, specifically, the technique of falling into a note, as opposed to pushing it down. The primary manner in which I keep myself connected to rotation technique, 4 decades after being introduced to it, is to maintain awareness of how it feels. Specifically, the feeling of falling, as opposed to the feeling of pushing. Of course, there is much more detail, actually quite exhaustive, that underlies this approach. And honestly, I have lost the mental connection with much of it. But I do remember what it means. And really, that's most of what I'll retain about anything. On a broader level, it is related to what I once heard in an interview with an opera singer (whose name, unfortunately, I don't remember) when he said something like "People go away from my performances and won't necessarily remember what I sang for them, but they will remember how it made them feel". And similar to getting out of our own way to become more harmonious with the forces around us - as would be walking as opposed to stomping, or falling into a note as opposed to forcibly pushing - my focus in playing piano is on that place, that feeling, if you will, where intuition informs thought; where my internal, or mental efforts become connected to the larger scheme of things, the forces around us, to become more harmonious with them. It's like that limp arm hanging alongside the bench. Once you learn to allow yourself to let go, you are in a position to begin to learn that letting go does not mean giving up, it means being connected. You aren't losing control, you are gaining freedom. And yes, I believe the application here is ultimately much broader than playing piano, or making music, or any other subject matter. But as this is the perch on which I sit, and the learning environment in which I live, this is the lens through which I see. And to feel, and learn to live in this connection, is a lead a blessed life indeed.