I ’m not a guy wire who likes to be alone with his own thoughts , and I ’m not really into the “ apparitional ” stuff : I ’ve never been to a speculation retreat , I ’ve watched masses get ” wash in a sound tub ” and could n’t empathize a reaction to a man blowing a glorified shofar in your face other than laughter , and any clip I ’ve tried to focus – I mean , really , really focus – I end up focusing on , like , what I may have in my fridge , or what ’s on television receiver , or … anything other than centre .
So , when I got the opportunity to lock myself in a small elbow room , with absolutely no stimulation , alone with my own thought , completely raw , floating in extra - buoyant salt water , for an hour , in full , 100 % pitch black , as a purportedly sizeable spa experience , my initial chemical reaction was , “ well , but what am I cash in one’s chips to do for an hour ? I think of other than retrieve ? ? ” But thinking , they say , is honest for you , and I ’m up for anything once . So , despite my fear , of grade , I said yes .
And it was amazing .
Cole Ott/Thrillist
Just Float in Pasadena is one of a growing numeral of sensory deprivation watering hole popping up around the country , but it ’s also the biggest one in the human race ; with 11 elbow room in a monumental complex just outside of Downtown Pass , they ’ve commit to what seems , on the surface , like a sort of ridiculous premise .
After all , “ flotation therapy , ” as they call it , has all the signaling of nonsensicality , especially the aesculapian claims : a spry cyberspace lookup reveals promise of everything from accent to pain succour from , well , what seems like the equivalent of taking a 60 minute stay in a red-hot tub . Just Float ’s own site also talks of minify blood pressing and lowering heart rate ( OK , that last one makes sense – you are , you sleep with , lying down for an hr . ) So yeah : I was skeptical .
The waiting way at Just Float find like what you ’d see at a enceinte dental practitioner ’s office , with cushiony chairs and couches in cool pastel colors . After walking in and contract my spirit away – of course of instruction – I was give a tablet with a quick , five - minute instructional / promotional video .
ardent medicine played as I was show what to have a bun in the oven : I was to strip totally raw and wash myself off before stepping into the tank , where – consort to the TV , which asterisk someone far better looking , thin , and more female than me – my apparently svelte organic structure would stretch out and bob above the piss , while even more thaw music played . I ’d hit a clitoris along the rampart , and slowly the music would melt , the Inner Light would fade , and it would be pitch sinister , completely silent , and I ’d be alone .
entirely alone .
Alarmingly alone .
A gracious guy in scouring led me to my room , which looked like something out of a ‘ XC Schwarzenegger movie : behind the first doorway was a small antechamber with a cascade and a ledge , as well as a gown , but towards the back was where the magic was allegedly go to happen . A brand , turquoise - color threshold in the middle of the wall , with a massive hold deplume up to reveal a low - lit , square space , much shallower than a typical syndicate and much wider than a bathtub – 8 ft retentive and 5 ft wide , full of 250 gallon of water and 1300lbs of salt , to insure that I would be floating the whole time . I ’d assumed that the whole affair would be a claustrophobia - inspired coffin - sized space , so I was happy to see the cap five or so feet above me , glowing a coolheaded blue chromaticity , with the cognition that I could sit up if I did get panicky a easing .
After taking that shower , I took a recondite breath , fill up the door to the way , and go up in , first sitting and then laying all the way down with my promontory floating in the water , before hitting the push button by the left side of my fountainhead to signal that I was ready to begin the experience .
Complete pitch blackness , and not in the “ hey , there ’s no lights in the desert ” way of life , but in the " there ’s no lights in the anything " manner .
easy – very , very easy – the calming euphony that had been playing both in the elbow room and underwater faded out , and the dim luminosity that had illuminated the blank space mellowed before disappearing completely . And then : nothing . all over blackness , and not in the “ hey , there ’s no light in the desert ” mode , but in the " there ’s no lights in the anything " way . And no sound , either , other than the clear overlapping of the water . And my breathing . And then the thought started :
“ Woah , my external respiration is tacky . Is that actually my external respiration ? Am I saw wood ? No , I ’m breathing . Yes . Wow . That ’s a tidy sum of breath . ”
The water supply was both extremely refreshing and cold-blooded than I expected ( they claim it ’s almost at body temperature ) , but I got used to it quickly , loving both the buoyancy offer by the brine pumped into the bathing tub and the realization that if I moved my body just so , my butt could hit the bottom and pop back up without my school principal ever pass on the water . I did this a few times – three ? four ? – before realizing I had no thought how much I was actually even moving in the pee . The darkness and the affected perkiness had stripped me of any spatial awareness . Even though they were just a metrical foot or so below my infantry and above my head , the wall and ceiling seemed like they were forever off as I switch my body weighting .
This went on for a minute or two in this sales pitch - black distance , a balmy , abbreviated distraction . But I was there to institutionalize to the experience . So I started breathing again . In . Out . In . Out .
My mind never completely shut off , but finally I found myself wondering whether my eyes were open or closed ; when I opened them , it was so dreary that I could n’t see my hand at all , so I closed them again , convinced there was no way I could actually , you know , fall at rest while lying in water , though I did , maybe , just for a little bit . Music flowed through my brain , in and out , then in , then … out . mayhap 20 minutes had clear . But it was intemperate to tell .
Random thought process ball up through my head : for one moment I ’d remember about whether I ’d get a phone call from my mother that day or not , then it ’d be about whyCaptain America : The Winter Soldierwas better thanCivil warfare , then it ’d be wondering what the parts of my body that were above the water – literally , my nose , beer - bowel , and , uh , groinal area – expect like on that even plane , and whether that was the left over way anyone could possibly see a body .
Once I got into it – probably midway through – what I was thinking about was … nothing .
But mostly , once I got into it – probably halfway through – what I was call up about was … nothing . And that ’s insanely rarefied for me . I ’d disappear into the mind of loosening , which I found far well-heeled to do there than on a massage mesa with someone touching me , or in a yoga class with a teacher in my ear . All I could focus on was breathing , and that respiration eventually became mesmeric , the silence in the way amazingly welcoming instead of deafen . I ’d never have look it , but it felt … dislodge .
And then it did n’t . All of a sudden , my brain turned back on , and start thinking .
“ How long have I been in here ? Has it only been 10 minute ? 5 minutes ? This feel like FOREVER ! ! Man . This has to end soon , this must be over shortly , is this going to go on … ”
That ’s when I get wind the music – or at least I retrieve I did ; with my ears underwater , it could have been a hallucination , or coming from another room . But then it get louder , then louder ; then a shadowy igniter glimmered above , signifying my prison term was up .
I unlatched the pod , nude and expose , try my stick snap under me , exiting into the shower area and stretching to the sky – and feel , well , majuscule . The hour alone with myself was liberating , and the feeling in my body electric car .
I do n’t recognize if I ’ll ever be a candidate for actual long - term meditation , and the Just Float experience was clearly a momentary one , rather than one that would change my life always . But if a air bladder - spa was close to my house ? I ’d go back again . Maybe that time I could exclude it all off . But for now , get close would have to do .
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