In this ongoing series, Pulse contributor Steve Morley explores the effects of sensory deprivation and reports on his experiences using the flotation tanks and other therapeutic resources at Murfreesboro’s Float Alchemy. (Previous installments can be found at boropulse.com/floativation).
If you’ve been following along, you’ve read about my first two experiences trying out the sensory deprivation tanks at Float Alchemy. Having floated twice, I’d become familiar with the ins and outs of the tanks (both literally and figuratively). While I found floating pleasant and easy enough from the get-go, my third session atop the saltwater would confirm that my newly gained familiarity was making floating even easier. Now, my mind and muscles were more prepared to enter into a relaxed state, happily anticipating a respite from holding my body upward against gravity’s inevitable pull.
As an adult I’ve increasingly become aware of a lifelong tendency to carry a fair amount of physical tension, and I can find it difficult to use my body without exerting certain muscles more than necessary for a given task. I have noticed on occasion that when I walk, I sometimes do so guardedly, as though unconsciously I’m not certain the ground is completely trustworthy to support my weight—you know, the way it feels when you’re trudging through a muddy area and trying not to sink in too far. While I did feel a lightness in my walk after previous floats, my muscles soon insisted on having their way, defaulting to the tightness they’d been (mis)trained to maintain. Before beginning my float, I took a few minutes to stretch and focus on deep breathing, hoping to enhance and quicken the relaxation response prompted inside the tank.
My third float was the most freeing one I’d yet experienced, with no restlessness and reasonably little mental intrusion. While I don’t think I drifted into full-on sleep in the silent darkness, I’m sure I hovered at various points near its blissful brink. It was there, semi-conscious, that a curious and unbidden two-word phrase rose unbidden into my conscious mind: “emotional grace.” I smiled gently at the implication contained within this calming and welcome thought, which felt like a spiritual gift suggesting the real possibility of a shift away from my more anxious and touchy tendencies. These would take time to diminish, no doubt (not unlike my acquired muscle tension), but it certainly felt encouraging to receive this message, evidently sent from the lower fathoms of my mind while in this unusually subdued and serene state.
I also “saw” a vision of a tiny baby afloat in water, reminding me of one of the reasons I had been drawn to floating in the first place: my mother’s amniotic fluid level had been significantly low during her pregnancy with me, and I have speculated in later years that my inability to swim, or float unaided, may be connected to this. I wonder likewise about my sense of ungroundedness and its accompanying tension, and whether I might realistically expect floating to gradually help relieve, even reprogram, a physical response so deeply ingrained. That’s an area I intend to explore further in this series.
When I heard soft music fade into the room to signal the end of my session, I realized I had successfully surrendered more deeply to the float experience this time around. I didn’t get antsy and leave the tank before my full hour had elapsed, as I had done the first two times. I was also getting better at remembering, as I rose to exit the tank, that salt water would be dripping from my hands and arms. This time, I managed to avoid letting salt water drip into either of my eyes—well, at least until I learned while showering that salt water can drip from one’s hair into one’s eye. An easy fix, though . . . again, I knew right where to find the spray bottle, and in seconds flat I had removed the offending saline from my stinging peeper. One way or another, I will triumph over the saltwater-in-my-eye syndrome, which has become a personal challenge.
Having gotten acquainted with the tanks—my primary reason for setting out on this adventure—I explored one of the several other therapeutic options offered at Float Alchemy. Emerging from the tank room slowly, savoring my tension-free state, I was ushered by friendly Float Master Mark Chesshir into one of the infrared sauna rooms. Here, I sat in an aromatic cedar cabin emitting full-spectrum infrared light and equipped with Bluetooth, listening to suitably low-key music via my phone.
The sauna’s maximum temperature setting is 140 degrees Fahrenheit; I set it at 110, and that was enough to work up a decent, purifying sweat. Wishing I’d done the sauna before my float so I could have headed home freshly showered, I was pleasantly surprised with the chilled peppermint towel that awaited me inside a small cooler just outside the cabin. It was sufficient for wiping away the sweat, and I left the sauna room feeling refreshed both inside and out. I have since learned, though, that Float Alchemy recommends doing the float tank first for best results, followed by a sauna if desired. Upon request, a shower can generally be made available after exiting the sauna.
The sauna’s high temperature has a pleasantly relaxing effect, but one of the primary benefits of a full-spectrum infrared sauna is its ability to heat up the body at its core, producing perspiration and thus cleansing the lymphatic system, drawing out toxins stored at the cellular level. Blood flow is increased, and the resulting oxygenation can repair tissues and cells. While boosting metabolism (which some users assert can aid in weight loss), this full-spectrum infrared light is also said to strengthen the body’s immune response.
Having recently been around co-workers who were nursing colds, I was feeling on the verge of respiratory symptoms myself, which was the main reason I opted to try the infrared sauna. Leave it to the science-savvy to present hard evidence that the sauna stopped my borderline symptoms from developing, but I can confidently report that I felt fine the next day, and didn’t come down with a cold or virus.
With the combined relaxation and purification benefits of a float-and-sauna combo, I walked into my house and was promptly informed by my wife that she could see a difference in my face. My expression was peaceful, she said, and my eyes and skin looked clearer to her. Most notably, she reported over the following days that I was generally calmer, and less prone to being anxious or irritable. And I can testify that I too noticed the difference, and enjoyed the benefits of easier interaction that came in its wake. A preview of “emotional grace,” perhaps? Stay tuned, Murfreesboro, and may the freedom of the float be with you.
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Float Alchemy is located at 131 Cason Ln., Murfreesboro. For more information on Float Alchemy, visit floatalchemy.com.
