A first float experience

I walked into my very first float with a lot of expectations. I was excited and a bit apprehensive — I had devoured every bit of information available on the world wide web. I'd crawled YouTube and Facebook and spent many minutes Googling things like:

• "What is floating?"
• "Why is floating good for me?"
• "How do you use a float tank?"

I had also listened to many hours of Joe Rogan. It's a commonly known fact that you can't listen to Joe talk about his float tank without wanting to buy one of your own. Luckily for me, I found Float Culture, a float centre in Auckland that lets you book sessions in their tanks instead. Much easier.

So I booked my first float online and headed in expecting a psychedelic, out-of-this-world experience.

What actually happened

At first — nothing.

I wanted to make sure my first float would be comfortable, so I opted for one of the float rooms with lots of space. Before I got in, the host explained that I was the boss of the light and the door, and I could get out at any time. I liked my spacious float room and that comforting information — but I still wondered what I'd gotten myself into.

In the tank, I pushed myself from one side to the other. I listened to the gentle meditation music attempting to lull me into relaxation (and I swear I heard my brain telling it not to bother). I wondered if I'd be bored, and whether the world would be okay without me for an hour.

Then, very suddenly, I learned what it was like to be totally relaxed. Relaxing had never ever been my strong suit — I've always needed to be multitasking to the edge of my sanity. This "peace and quiet" thing was foreign to me, and I kind of loved it.

I don't know if it was the rapid disappearance of my stress, or that I was floating in an Epsom-salt cocktail, but the whole thing made me a little giddy. I started to giggle at the absolute ridiculousness of life — ridiculousness I'd never really noticed until that moment — and at how fortunate I was to be living it.

I floated for what felt like ages, and simultaneously no time at all. I had no idea how much time had passed, or what might be happening on my phone or at my job, and I didn't care. It was blissful.

Then the music came back on, I had my shower, dried my hair and straight away booked my next float. (I think I might be hooked.)

— By Jennifer White