Floating Away. Far, Far, Far Away.

I left the planet today. No, not for long. Only an hour or so, actually. And, no, no, I was not rocket assisted. It was so much easier than that. I went to a float spa. And, right there, at a place called Glowspa, in the heart of Mt. Pleasant, I found other worlds. Or, perhaps they found me.

Up until recently, my knowledge of float spas was formed by the most misplaced of impressions, thanks to Hollywood. Back more than three decades ago, there was a film called “Altered States” in which a Harvard scientist, played by a young William Hurt, experimented with what was not so invitingly described as a “sensory deprivation chamber.” In this chamber, all sensory perception was removed: nothing could be seen, heard, or felt other than what your brain felt like composing. With Hurt's character, Eddie Jessup, fortified by LSD, his experience in the tank took on frightening, if not outright terrifying, dimensions such as his mutating into other, never before seen, life forms. Lily and I, with a group of friends, went to see this film in something of an altered state ourselves. We were so utterly fixated, indeed hypnotized, by what was happening on the screen that none of us noticed that Lily was so completely freaked out by what she was watching that she desperately sought an exit from the theater and blacked out – not once, but twice – in the aisle as she attempted her escape. Only when the theater lights later reappeared, did we turn to one another and inquire what had become of her. She still sternly reminds me of our complete oblivion to her absence until the film was over.

With that said, when our friend, Cathy, recently told us about modern day float spas where one could experience complete sensory deprivation, I was intrigued. (Lily less so.) What I learned was that the concept of the float spa has been in development for more than a half century. A fellow named John Lilly experimented with these back in the 1950's to explore the workings of the mind when it was deprived of all sensory information. And, interestingly, this experience has become popularized not just as a casual outlet for one's meditative endeavors, but also as a course of treatment for those with PTSD as well as those suffering from depression and a range of anxiety disorders.

In my case, I first stopped by Glowspa and conversed with the owner, Steve, to better understand what it was that might be in store for me. Steve told me that the tank was the size of an oversized bath tub completely enclosed to shut out the sounds of life coming from anywhere outside the flotation tank. The water in the tub would be about 10 inches in depth and would be infused with about 1,100 pounds of epsom salts, providing about double the buoyancy of the Dead Sea. You would lie in the tub which would be pitch black dark, be wearing earplugs, and have water temperature at 93 degrees so that your skin and body would have no sensory perception whatsoever other than the sound of your breath and, perhaps, the vaguest sensation of your heart beating, pushing blood around your organic self.

The day arrived for me, and I stepped somewhat gingerly into the tub. I was 90% excited and curious but about 10% apprehensive based totally on the decades old, but indelible, impressions left on me by “Altered States.” Hollywood, could not have been more wrong.

I leaned back and immediately realized that, no matter how hard I tried, I could not sink. Impossible. I was weightless. The dark was so complete that I had no sense of whether my eyes were open or shut. I heard nothing but the sound of my breathing. As the minutes wore on, I became aware that the intervals between my exhales and inhales became longer and longer.  That is the sound of relaxation.  I also realized later that the relaxation I was experiencing was no doubt the greatest I had ever felt short of sleep which, after all, we do not really consciously experience.  And, to add to the Twilight Zone element of it all, I felt nothing as the water temperature was so parallel to my body temperature that it precluded any sense of place. I might as well have been in outer space weightless as an astronaut would be. I settled back, realized that I was not going to freak out, and let my mind wander.

And the places it would take me! We sometimes refer to those situations in our lives where we are “alone with our thoughts.” Sometimes, it's when we are swimming laps in a pool. Other times, we feel this is the case when we are sitting alone on a secluded beach perhaps at sunset. Very meditative. But, even in those scenes, we have at least a subliminal sense of the world around us. Maybe it's the breeze we feel touching our skin. Maybe it's the sound of waves breaking or a seagull screeching. And, of course, there is the ever present daylight.  In the pool, maybe it's just the end of the lap or the coolness of the water that always keeps us centered with the notion that we are on planet earth; that there is an environmental context to what we are doing. But, in the flotation tank, we have none of those stimuli. We have nothing but our inner thoughts.

In my case, I took a journey into my past. I did not intend for that to happen, but that's where my brain wanted to take me. I saw myself sitting around the dinner table a half century ago looking at my grandmother, an image that has not occurred to me in decades. I saw myself toting around a 2 year old Jesse in our beach house in Rehoboth, Delaware introducing him to the artwork on the walls. I saw Lily and me on the beach in Phuket, Thailand almost 40 years ago. I saw Lily, Alex and me on safari in South Africa a few years ago watching an elephant spray dirt on our jeep while protecting her baby. I saw my father in his dressing area in our home in White Plains, New York as I looked up as a youngster in adulation. I have no idea - none - why these images came to the forefront of my consciousness. But there they were. And, while I could not be sure of this, I believe I smiled. It was too dark to tell.

I realized at some point that I had absolutely no idea how much time had elapsed. 7 minutes? 27 minutes? 47 minutes? No idea. But, at some point, as promised, soft music started infusing into the water. I knew my time was up.

And, I knew I would be back.