The float tank: the deeper experience

Floating tends to occupy a special place in our minds — one of peace, tranquillity, even spirituality. I certainly think of it as a reprieve, a reset, all but guaranteed to make me feel better no matter what state I'm in. But is there a limit to that conception? We say "not all floats are created equal," but what does that actually mean? For me it once meant coming out of a float the bluest I'd felt in a long time.

When the noise gets loud

These days I float most often when my mind is getting crazy. As life fills up, relaxation and contemplation slide down the priority list, and it's only when there's a full Japanese game show running in my head that I notice something's amiss. Thoughts flung to and fro, attention pinging around the pinball table of my mind. At times like that it can be hard to feel like yourself — unless you've been like that so long you've decided that is what being you feels like, in which case I have some news for you.

I believe we're all capable of blissful states of consciousness — inside the tank or out.

So what happened?

I went into that float wound tight and came out worse — and for a while I wondered whether the float had actually made things worse, whether I'd have been better off skipping it. I don't think so. The answer, I've come to believe, lay in the root of the noise in the days before. That buzzing, that mental band-camp, doesn't arrive on its own. There's an emotional cause somewhere deep inside — something I was struggling with, unable to face, probably not even aware of.

And that's what I found in the tank. The float didn't do anything wrong. It did exactly what it always does. It calmed me down — calmed me down so completely that the real reason for my distress had nowhere left to hide, and leapt out to meet me face-on.

Was it pleasant? No. Was it more honest than the week before? Completely.

The deeper gift

This is the part of floating we talk about less, because it doesn't fit neatly on a poster. Sometimes the tank gives you bliss. Sometimes it gives you clarity you didn't ask for. Both are the same gift, really — an hour quiet enough to hear what you've been too busy to notice. The blissful floats are wonderful. But the honest ones might be the ones that actually change something.

If you float regularly, you'll meet both. Let the easy ones restore you and the hard ones teach you. Either way, the water's in Grafton whenever you need it — float therapy here, and the passes and memberships for when it becomes a practice.