I reserved a one hour time slot to close myself into a self contained bathtub filled with salt water in pitch black darkness and no noise. 

Always curious about new experiences and stories of meditative moments in unusual settings, the term “floating” has been a repeated topic in conversation throughout the years.  Intrigued by the therapy style and how the well-being practice could impact me, I wanted to participate.  

Floating is not a new concept, but it took quite a while for me to prioritize making an appointment and experiencing a session.  In conversations mentioned above, I knew the gist and was slightly apprehensive of self selecting to quarantine in a blacked out cell for an hour.  What felt like an experience that could be compared to isolation in captivity, the benefits claimed I would work through mental strain, repair my physical aches, and feel a deep sense of relaxation.      

The welcoming experience was a blissful first impression of what to expect.  I entered the building and walked through a narrow hallway to a gentle smiling woman who sat legs folded atop of a cushioned stool. She greeted me by name due to my online booking and escorted me to a back room with a warm light that was the lobby.  

When booking online, I was emailed with an easy read article listing float therapy benefits and what to expect for a first time floating session.  It’s recommended to come early to your session, so your mind and body have time to assimilate to low stimulation.  You put away your phone; the room is quiet and designed to feel like the comfort of home with couches, sit pillows tucked underneath coffee tables, access to warm tea, essential oils to purchase, watercoloring, books, and journaling.  

My greeter, adorned in a sweater that read “recognize your potential” on her back, led me to my room that held a shower, sink, floating essentials (robe, towel, earplugs, and moisturizer) and the float tank container.  

It’s necessary to squeeze in earplugs and rinse the entire body before entering the salt water for cleanliness and most every floating session is strongly recommended to be done in the nude. The salt bath had 1,100 lbs. of epsom salt in 10 inches of water, so water that can damage clothes and jewelry.

The gentle woman showed me basic controls in the container to switch on or off a soft light and quiet music, and then shut the door.  

I was on my own to build the experience and I really wanted to make it through the whole hour in complete silence and darkness.  Even though the experience did not turn out the way I thought it would, I reflect on the process in 3 stages; newness, challenge, transformation.   

Newness:

After my preparation process (earplugs and shower) I stepped into the salty water and it felt lovely.  The salt water made my skin feel silky and the lightness that came from buoyancy softened my movements.  The temperature of the water swiftly adjusts to your own body temperature so after some time, there is little sensation as to where the water is touching the skin; it all feels seamless.   

Losing a secure sense of time, the darkness felt deep and my inner dialogue started asking if I knew whether or not my eyes were open.  My body felt weightless and I imagined myself floating through endless space like a star in the galaxy;  I was effortless and fully present in my place of being. 

Challenge:

The initial awe of the floating newness wore off and I transitioned into being overly conscious of my intentions.  I wanted to be purposeful in my practice so I could reap the benefits listed above and get the most impact of my session.  I wanted to end the hour feeling like the sacrifice that could have been spent being more productive was worth it.  

Spiraling mentally and physically, I started searching for the edges of the tank with my fingers and toes until I could physically push my body from one end to the other.  I itched on my face and the sound of my breath was too loud.  My earplugs hurt and stretched my canals to the point of me contemplating getting out and ending my session early.  

I was bored and questioning my commitment.  I began a series of thoughts to rationalize stopping the experience and trying again another time.  I told myself it won’t matter to stay and I could try again another time; maybe sensory deprivation wasn’t for me.  My face was hot, and at the moment the experience seemed pointless.  Why force myself to a level of discomfort?

My body wriggled and beads of sweat collected above my upper lip.  I caved and fondled for the door handle to crack it open for air.  

Transformation:

The light triggered my attachment to my body and the cool air gifted me awareness to reconnect.  The moment shifted and I was brought back to the focus of wellness for my body and mind.  I left the door slightly ajar and gently moved within the water, stretching my limbs and opening my hips with conscious breathing.

By this stage, I had no concept of time.  Unable to gauge if it had been 20 minutes or 45, I let go of the pressure to succeed at floating.  I had arrived at the conclusion that there was no such concept.  My only intention was to just exist and with that awareness I subconsciously returned to my mother’s womb.

I felt my knees lift up to my chest and my arms wrapped around to hold myself close.  My eyes flooded with tears and my own salts joined the water surrounding me.  I grieved the feeling of being my mother’s child while simultaneously feeling closer to her.  My body recognized the memory of existing in a state of fluid suspension that felt safe and nurtured.  

My consciousness realized this connection and moments later, lights illuminated the tank and deep drums vibrated from the walls.  The signal to show me my session was over just as I felt it was finally beginning.  

I soaped up my new skin and dressed for exit.  My experience was unexpected and revealing.  Weeks later, I am still impacted and plan to return. 

Thank you for being with me through this story and I am privileged to share.  I hope you feel inspired to create practices of wellness for yourself and build the life we seek.

Love, Leah