Not long after we moved into our current apartment in downtown Vancouver, I saw a sign in the window of an establishment down the street called Float House. The sign had a drawing of a faceless body floating on its back, and it said "EXPERIENCE NOTHING." Frankly, it looked like a dead body floating down a river, but I assumed whatever business this was wasn't actually advocating that. I figured it was a spa of some sort, but I didn't see the point of paying to float in water. Anyone could do that just fine in a lake or pool somewhere, right? I meant to do some research on it but never got to it.
Then I heard a podcast on one of my favorite shows, Fat Burning Man (check it out - Abel James is my spirit animal.) He interviewed a guy named Kevin Johnson, the owner of a flotation therapy spa called Zero Gravity Institute. Read or listen to the podcast here. To paraphrase, Johnson gushed about how floating in his tanks had the ability to reboot your brain, boost your creativity, aid in recovery and stress relief, help you sleep better, manage pain, maybe even do your laundry and make you a sandwich.
Different float spas have a variation on the following: The tank or pod you float in is full of hundreds of pounds of Epsom salt, so it's like being in the Dead Sea - it's so buoyant that you just float on the surface (it's pretty shallow anyway) with no effort. The water is warmed to what Johnson called "skin receptor neutral", so you technically can't even feel it. To top it all off, they turn out all the lights and close the door and boom...Total. Sensory. Deprivation.
That might sound cool to some people and terrifying to others. To me, it sounded magical. When else in your life would you ever experience actual total sensory deprivation, unless you're some kind of astronaut?
Johnson and others have claimed that this sensory deprivation has resulted in some of their best creative moments. Something just happens to their brains when the noise of the world is shut out and they're left with nothing but their own thoughts.
Sweet. I love being alone with my thoughts - it might be one of my favorite things. I told my husband about it, and soon after we bought a Groupon for a couples float at a nearby spa , though not the one where I saw the sign.
The day we went was cold and rainy, as it is apt to be in Vancouver sometimes. (Okay, all the time. What's sun?) It seemed like a good day to lock ourselves inside a warm, dark room and think about nothing for an hour. We arrived at a generic-looking hotel spa whose receptionist greeted us serenely and took us to a changing room, where we switched into robes before entering the float room.
The room itself was dark and almost stiflingly warm. Inside was a shallow pool about 8 feet by 6 feet, filled with murky yellowish water. The weird tint was because of the salt. An oil diffuser was puffing in the corner that smelled like lavender. Not exactly sensory-deprivation, but it was nice. The receptionist pointed out where we could dim the lights and noted the styrofoam pool noodles we could use to prop our heads up, because "some people don't know how to relax their shoulders."
Chaos and disaster ensued thereafter, courtesy of my husband.
I exaggerate. But I will say that afterwards, I vowed to try another float solo, because this couples thing was not exactly what I had in mind when I heard that podcast. Back to the story.
We were instructed to shower before and after our float session. Within a minute of entering the shower, Will reached for the ceramic container of shampoo and dropped it, where it shattered into smithereens all over the floor. Whoops.
A cheery cleaning woman was called in to sweep up the mess, which meant she had to turn all the lights on and clean for what felt like an eternity. Eventually we hinted that her very thorough rinsing of the shower was good enough, and she departed.
Rough start. But no worries, we had plenty of time left. We turned the lights down again. There was a strip of light along the edge of the float pool which illuminated the dim room - again, not exactly sensory deprivation. I stepped into the pool and was immediately reminded of the Dead Sea...effortless floating. After about five minutes, my back started hurting. It turned out, I was one of those people that didn't know how to relax their shoulders, so I had to stand up and grab a noodle. Ah...better. Time to drift off and let the creative juices flow!
I heard a splash.
Will decided he needed a noodle too. The wake he left when he got up sent me drifting into the other side of the pool headfirst. Ouch.
I closed my eyes again. I could hear a slight humming, which I think came from the plumbing, but otherwise, it was quiet. It was almost too...
Another splash.
Will stood up again. I found out later it was because he had gotten some of the salt water in his eye the last time he got out, and he needed to wipe his face. This time, I was prepared for the wake and put my hand out to meet the wall. Crisis averted.
He got back in and settled again. I tried hard to get back into serenity mode. My eye started burning. Will's last foray out of the pool made me a victim of the salt water too. I vigorously ignored it until the burning subsided. Various parts of Will's body kept touching mine. I shied away repeatedly. No touching, that definitely violated the sensory deprivation protocol.
Finally, we settled into tranquility, partly because one of us actually fell asleep (Will). The time went by slowly but pleasantly, until a soft pinging sound came on to let us know our time was up. I have to shake Will awake.
Despite the disturbances, I rate my first float as a success, because when I stood up, I realized that all the knots in my back and shoulders disappeared. I felt younger, rejuvenated. Not bad at all.
Will enjoyed it as well, but thought that it didn't really do anything for him that a good nap in his own bed would do. Fair enough. He did say that he thought he was awake and thinking the whole time, and was surprised when the session was over so quickly.
A couple weeks later, I won a raffle at a fundraiser for two float sessions at the Float House, the place with the creepy sign down the street. Jackpot! I signed up for a Saturday afternoon solo float.
This place was quite a bit different from the hotel spa. For one thing, they had actual tanks rather than just a pool. You have to get in and shut the door.
I was shown into a small room where there was a small shower and the tank. Frankly, the room looked a bit industrial because you could see the pump and pipes attached on the outside. I couldn't help but think of beer brewing, or maybe a science lab.
A tank at Float House Gastown.
The shower had three labeled products. A sign instructed me to the unscented shampoo and body wash before the float, to enhance the sensory deprivation. Perfect! I liked this place better already. Plus, the containers were attached to the wall so there's no chance of shattering.
I stepped into the tank and closed the door, making note of the fact that yes, there was actually a handle on the inside so one could get out easily. Whoa, it's dark. At first, I couldn't see anything, then as I settled in, I noticed there was a small strip of light around the door. Unless you looked up at it, you wouldn't see it. I imagine that someone with claustrophobia would not do well in here.
Inside of the tank at Float House Gastown.
The first thing I noticed after I closed the door was my own heartbeat. It was the only sound I could hear, actually. Amazing. Was this what the womb was like?
As the minutes went by, I noticed my heartbeat actually slowed down. I love this. I loved it so much in the moment that I think I momentarily excited myself and raised it again, but it slowed again soon after. My brain seemed to fog over a little, but in a good way. I wondered if I've ever been so relaxed while still remaining awake.
A splash.
This time, the splash was all my own. I was in a middle of a thought and didn't realize that I had begun to fall asleep. I woke myself up with a muscle spasm, hence the splash.
This happened a few more times. So much for blaming disturbances on my husband. Despite this, I enjoyed this float session even more than the first one. When the music came on this time, at first I thought I was dreaming it. I then dreamed my way out of the tank somehow, showered, got dressed, and stumbled out the door.
That day was a rare sunny day, and when I left the spa it felt insanely bright outside. As I walked down the block to my apartment, I felt oddly detached from the bustling world around me, like maybe I was in a fish tank looking out. Like nothing could touch me. Maybe this is what it's like to be on drugs.
Again, the muscles in my back and shoulders were more relaxed than ever. The woozy effect of the float lasted for another hour or so. I didn't have any creative breakthroughs in the tank, but I'm pretty convinced it could happen with a bit more time. Something strange and wonderful does happen in that tank. It may not be a Eureka! moment, but it does force you to be alone with yourself for an hour with no distractions.
I'm curious how other people react to flotation therapy. Leave me a comment if you've tried it and let's compare notes!
A sign at the Float House in Gastown.
Articles to consider:
The Science of Sensory Deprivation Therapy
Getting Tanked: One Writer's 60 Minutes in Sensory Deprivation