Picture complete and total darkness. The kind where you can't see your hand in front of your face. Imagine for a moment darkness so complete that it makes you question if what you think you know about yourself is true. Makes you question who you are, causes you to think about what exists beyond this physical body and the outer environment of constant input that you spend your days in. How does that make you feel? Has there ever been a time in your life that you've had that experience?
Generally, people dislike being uncomfortable. There is a fear of pausing to reflect and truly see ourselves. I find we are so conditioned to ignore the underlying sense of uncertainty and unhappiness we feel and mask its symptoms with very temporary distractions. As we begin to allow our lives to be caught in the dangerous current of busyness, it is vital that we take the time to explore our consciousness, take the time to understand the truth and rich landscape that lies within our mind. You can accelerate and focus that exploration through the use of a sensory deprivation tank.
What the heck is sensory deprivation?! I first became aware of the potential benefits of sensory deprivation tanks through comedian Joe Rogan and his podcast. Described in a number of ways, sensory deprivation is perhaps the most accurate description of what the experience in a float tank seeks to accomplish. At no other point in our lives is the brain completely free from external stimulation. It is in this environment that a lot of self exploration and discovery can take place. It's almost like being able to hit the pause button on the stream of external input and focus solely on your inner landscape.
Originally developed by John Lilly in the 1950's to test different assumptions about the origin of consciousness, I was fascinated to learn that one of the original hypotheses was that consciousness was dependant on the outer environment. Lilly was interested in finding the origin of the brain's energy sources, to discover what it is that keeps the brain going. What an experience that first time entering the tank must have been, not knowing what to expect!
After fitting in the earplugs provided and rinsing off, you climb into the tank and shut the door. Settling on top of the hundreds of pounds worth of epsom salts dissolved in the water, your ears slip below the surface and you begin to slow your breathing, becoming hyper-aware of your aloneness, the abnormality of the situation testing your comfort zone. The water and air around you in the tank are set to body temperature, and your physical sensations fade away, opening up the avenue for your brain to sort out its thoughts, almost feeling the neural connections firing. Hearing your heart beating in your ears, eventually feeling the blood pump through your veins. Gaining a deeper appreciation for the functions your amazing body performs that normally lie beyond your levels of perception. You can close your eyes or keep them open, but after a while you can begin to question the difference.
As much as possible, try to enter the float center in a calm and relaxed state. Don't bring your rushed energy into the experience and don't bring fear into the experience. Any potential danger exists only in your mind. The worst that will happen is getting salt in your eyes. Painful, but not life-threatening. The choice is always available to open the door and exit the experience if it is too uncomfortable. My suggestion for first time floaters would definitely be to find a center that has float rooms as opposed to smaller enclosed tanks, with the ability to switch on lights or play calming music. My first float was in a Samadhi tank like the one pictured below, which can have the effect of making you feel like you are entering a coffin... not the most comforting of thoughts in an already uncertain situation.
It can be difficult to adjust to this completely foreign experience, and it may take a few times in the tank to fully appreciate the numerous benefits it has to offer. I found myself constantly pushing off the walls, bouncing around much like the curious probing of your tongue at the dentist. I don't know if this is my way of reminding myself of the physical space around me, reassuring myself that it still exists and I'm not completely out in the void. As strange as it sounds, nearing the 90 minute mark in the tank it can begin to feel that way. Once your lower, animalistic side shuts down, the real work begins. A question I often get is, "were you able to shut your brain off?" I'm not sure this is the point, although this question may be indicative of what someone may need from the experience. Sure, the tank ensures there are minimal outside inputs and influences, but if anything this enhances the brain activity and output of your vastly suppressed self-generated thought. It's not so much the brain that needs shutting off as it is the body and it's constant craving for attention.
Another valid concern in the tank is boredom. Because of this, I would definitely suggest no longer than 60 minutes for the first few times. 90 minutes tends to feel a bit long, and I feel myself wondering when it will end. I also think it's important to lie in the tank with this boredom. These days, we are fearful of boredom, of stillness. Our attention is constantly persuaded away from us, without our awareness or permission. The tank can act as an attention reset, a recalibration of your awareness. See where your brain and thoughts take you while alone for an extended period without input.
The first few times, I went in with some expectations, with specific questions I wanted to answer. What I discovered is the importance of going into the experience with as few pre-conceived notions as possible, allowing it to take you places you may not have expected, and to be okay with that. Relax, reset your awareness and pay attention to the real you locked inside this incredible human body.