Floated
When we're in the West End. we often pass by Willow Trading on Great Western Road. I'm not really a fan of that kind of shop. They're often pushers of expensive placebo, snake-oil and new-age bullshit, a perception that was cemented the time they tried to sell R a session on a Vega Machine. But a couple of months ago I was struggling to think of an unusual present for her birthday and remembered that they had a flotation tank. She had expressed some interest in trying it, and a bit of research on the web suggested that they genuinely helped relieve stress, and were especially theraputic for pregnant women who may be experiencing back problems, so I popped in and bought her a gift certificate, good for a single "float".
It took her a while to get around to using it, but when she finally did last week she came back absolutely raving about the experience, and had returned the favour by buying me one as well. I know I come across as a miserable old cynic, but I prefer to think of myself as just being quick to spot a scam, and I can understand that there might be some benefit to being alone with just your thooughts and no other outside stimulation for a while. Given that R came back clearly more relaxed, I was keen to give it a go, so after work last night I went over there and redeemed my coupon for one float.
I was shown into a pleasant, private room with various toiletries, a shower, and a hatch set into one wall. As explained, I locked the door behind me, stripped off, took a quick shower and inserted the provided earplugs, before opening the hatch. Although if you Google "flotation tank" or "isolation tank" you'll most likely find images of a free-standing pod, this was more like a small room the size of a walk-in closet, filled with about ten inches of water heated to body temperature and loaded with Epsom salts. Climbing in and lying on my back, I found sinking, or even touching my bum to the floor, quite impossible, the salt in the water providing enough buoyancy to keep me floating gently on the surface at all times. Closing the hatch left only a thin outline of the door from the light in the room, which soon turned itself off leaving me in complete darkness, unable to tell if my eyes were open or shut, and with no sound but my own breathing and the odd watery gurgle.
Physically it was very pleasant and comfortable, though I could see how someone of a claustrophobic bent might feel a little panicked at first until they settled in. In keeping with the spirit of it, I tried to relax as much as possible, which took some time. Every time I thought I was as relaxed as I could be, I would notice some other muscle group that was still tensed in some way and would have to turn it off. Finally I achieved this as best as I could and started to enjoy the feeling of warm weightlessness. Relaxing my mind was a whole different matter. The leaflet I had read upon arrival suggested that the floatee shouldn't try to suppress his or her thoughts, but just let them come and go. All the same, I found it difficult to get out of my natural cycle whereby I'm usually fretting about something, and worries about whether I was getting enough out of the experience and how much time I had left and whether I was "doing it right" just self-perpetuated. Eventually, however, some of the negative "brain chatter" went away and I got into a state similar to that which occurs before sleep - though I was in no danger of actually nodding off and could appreciate it in a more "conscious" way. Scraps of voices floated through my head, as well as thoughts about my life as it is at the moment, but most noticable was the music that seems to be endlessly playing in the background of my mind. It didn't seem to be anything I had heard before, but wasn't consciously being created. It was enjoyable to "listen to" for a while, but difficult to actually silence. I've "dreamt" music in the past and never been able to recreate it in the "real world" due to an inability to recall it (not to mention lack of talent). I suspect that what I heard while in the tank is no exception, but it's interesting that it's in there.
I was brought out of this meditative state by ambient tinkling which are played into the tank to announce the end of the session, and was quite surprised to find that an hour had passed. Once out of the tank, and feeling a little wobbly, I showered thoroughly to get the salt off my skin, dressed, and left. Once back in the outside world I actually felt a sort of giddy euphoria, and had to fight to stop myself from giggling at nothing. At the same time I felt extremely relaxed, and my head felt clearer and more focussed, an effect that has continued, if slightly diminished, today.
I suppose what I experienced was really just a form of meditation, made easier by the tank removing all external stimuli and makiing that level of introspection easier. Really you could just go to some classes and learn to do meditate at home without having to fork out thirty notes to float in a cupboard full of salty water, but in any case it was an enjoyable experience and something I'd be happy to try again.
Or maybe I've just been suckered in by a lot of hippy-drippy nonsense. If I start blogging about the benefits of aromatherapy, you have permission to come round and slap me.
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