my flotation pod.
I floated, I paid, this is not a sponsored post. I blame the The Simpsons for my curiosity.
parent human it can seem we don’t get enough alone time.
On top of that I’ve begun sleeping with a four legged friend.
Not the best idea, but everyone else kicked him out of their room.
I cannot look at that face and not pat the mattress beside me and say: OK, come on in!
As a result, when a friend suggested we explore flotation tanks, it seemed like perfect timing.
A float pod is a dark, soundproof tank where you float in 10 inches of salt water heated to skin temperature. Lack of gravity and restricting of senses places you in a state of relaxation.
I may not have anxiety (which, almost incongruously, floating lessens), but I am always in need of mental clarity and creativity stimulation.
Plus, I figured worst case scenario I napped and that sounded heavenly.
I was in.
I did no research.
I wanted to be surprised.
The facility provided everything I needed from soap/shampoo (you shower before & after) to petroleum jelly for your “wounds” (the word choice struck me as hilarious. I imagined people floating post-zombie apocalypse.).
They also provided ear plugs (which I didn’t initially wear. more on that later.) and a neck pillow.
In the corner of the pod-photo below you can see a spray bottle (Id not planned to blog this, snapped fuzzy pics for the Child and was so smitten I couldn’t help but write about it).
The employee repeatedly reminded me “epsom salt water burns if it gets in eyes and to immediately spray area with water.” (cue a little panic of “this was supposed to be relaxing. there’s a lot to remember!”)
I’d already decided to float “lights on, tank open.”
I’m not claustrophobic, yet even though the tank was lit inside closing myself up in there seemed a terrifying proposition.
I slid in. I looked around. I went for the whole experience.
Naked (their rules), dark, closed. 60 minutes.
I never fell asleep, but I “nap jerked” a few times.
I emerged feeling rejuvenated, refreshed and convinced I’d achieved the trance-like state touted on the website.
I adored the float. Here’s why:
Private. Just me, naked. Private shower before. Private naked climb into pod. Private climb back out to snag ear plugs (see below). Private awkward gazelle sleepy exit at end of float. Private private private.
Life on pause. You may bring your own music. I chose option B (their relaxing tunes piped into pod). 5 minutes into my float the music accidentally stopped. Or so I thought until I read about flotation tanks afterward. Music is set to shut off approximately when our brain is supposed to have “turned off”/become blank.
Roomy. The pod was far larger than I’d anticipated. Even after seeing this I’d still planned to float with my pod open. It took all of about two minutes for me to take the leap, seal myself up inside and close my eyes. Speaking of which….
Meditative. This is a goal of flotation, yet I wasn’t sure I’d achieve it my first visit. I experienced monkey mind (There’s water in my ears. Is it dangerous if magnesium gets in ear canal? Will I get an infection?! Why didn’t I read about this?? I need ear plugs!) but was able to overcome/relax through it. I realized eyes open or closed my surroundings were the same: dark, calm and relaxing. It took a time, but my float became trance-like.
Would I return?
It’s not an inexpensive endeavor (first floats are markedly less expensive), but if I
had a Splenda Daddy and were struggling with anxiety, stress or insomnia it would be worth any money spent.
Will I return?
I loved it. It was soothing. It was also a drive and required planning ahead.
I think I’ll keep my meditation semi-spontaneous, dry, and filled with gravitational pull.
For now anyway…
- Have you tried flotation tanks/pods? What did you think of it?
- Wanna join me in my next curiosity: CryoTherapy?