The Power of Floating

Imagine being a 24-year-old man, naked and floating in a pod, inducing complete sensory deprivation and being immersed in what I can only describe as adult sized womb. Sound terrifying? Well, today I did just that, but alas, it was not scary in the slightest and instead it ending up being both relaxing and transformative.

To my surprise, I learnt that floatation therapy has been around for around 60 years. It is yet however, to become mainstream. I for one, knew nothing about it.

A few weeks back, I was browsing the web looking for something interesting and new that a friend and I could try out. This is when I came across ‘Float Works’ in Vauxhall, London. Intrigued, I booked us one ‘float’.

I arrived at 9 am and was overcome by a sense of tranquillity. The receptionist positively oozed zen, making my friend and I feel at ease; this was particularly reassuring when trying something so new and unusual.

He showed each of us to our private room where a large white pod filled with salt water greeted me. He explained its features and left us to shower and hop in. Normally I would be nervous, but the staff were so friendly and positive that any residual nerves evaporated.

I took off my clothes and lay down in the water. I felt the tension in my body melt away. Turning the pod’s lights off, I was lost in complete darkness, left to focus on my own thoughts for a full hour.

After the fifteen minutes of quiet music (to ‘ease you in’) I lost any sense of time. I began to fade in and out of active thought, managing in the main to clear my mind. The water, being perfect room temperature, meant that I wasn’t able to tell which parts of me were in the water and which were out. I focused on my breath and could hear only my heartbeat; I had completely succumbed to the pod.

The hour was up in what felt like minutes. Before entering, I was convinced that this whole process might drag on, but instead I was shocked at how quickly the time flew!

After the float, I felt happier, lighter and rejuvenated. I made my way up to the ‘relaxation room’ and poured myself a complementary herbal tea, and pondered the immense and positive impact of the float. I am a massage addict, but let me tell you, this float session was more wellness inducing than any massage I have ever received. It was special absolutely worth the £50 price tag.

I’m giving this 5/5 on the happiness scale.

This article originally appeared on huffingtonpost and was written by Nader Dehdasht

Autism and REST Float Therapy

Float Therapy is being noted as a positive therapy for people with Autism, as well as a form of psychological therapy. This is due to the reduced stimulation and low sensory input required by the brain. The amount of information that has to be received, monitored and processed is significantly reduced in a sensory deprivation tank (float tank) and is being used as treatment to regulate the biochemistry of the brain and nervous system.

Q: What does Floatation REST stand for?

A: REST was an acronym coined by the research team of Dr. Peter Suedfeld and Dr. Roderick Borrie. It has two usages: Dr. Suedfeld preferred Restricted Environmental Stimulus Technique while Dr. Borrie preferred Reduced Environmental Stress Therapy, a term which is easier for laymen to understand and speaks more to the practical applications of floatation therapy.

REST as a Treatment for Children with Autism

Several studies suggest that average levels of stimulation may be too high for autistic children (C. Hutt, S. Hutt, Lee, & Ounsted, 1964; Margolies, 1977; Schechter, Shurley, Toussieng, & Maier, 1969; Suedfeld & Schwartz, 1983). Alternatively, others attribute the problem to a deprivation of sensory input (Moore & Shiek, 1971; Williams & Harper, 1974). Theories and evidence from clinical observations converge on a characterization of autism as an abnormal reaction to environmental stimuli or a dysfunction in the ability to adequately process average levels of stimuli (American Psychiatric Association, 1987; Fein, Waterhouse, Lucci, & Snyder, 1985; Ornitz & Ritvo, 1976; Wing & Gould, 1979). Bartak, Rutter, and Cox (1975) have shown that individuals with autism have limited or restricted interactions. Theories consistent with this evidence suggest that exposure to average levels of stimuli results in a cognitive processing breakdown and an abnormal (restrictive) response to the environment (e.g., Hermelin, 1976; Rutter, 1983; Shah & Wing, 1986). If these theories are correct, one would expect a reduction in the amount of stimuli these individuals are required to process to result in a reduction of autistic symptoms and a desire for stimulation.

Restricted environmental stimulation therapy (REST) as a treatment for autistic children.

This study explored the usefulness of 48 hours of Restricted Environmental Stimulation Therapy (REST) as a treatment for autistic children. In order to provide quantified objective measures for evaluating the effects of this treatment, a battery of psychological tests was developed which would be useful and practical for the assessment of these children in regular diagnostic settings. Several positive changes in learning, social and play behavior, and cognitive functioning were noted.

First Time in a Flotation Tank

I’d been wanting to try this for years. So for my birthday this year, my husband bought me three one-hour float sessions. This was my first session.

I mentioned it on Facebook before I went to float, and since then seemingly everyone has asked about it. Several FB friends private messaged me to see how it went. Some friends called. One gal from my church even stopped me in Target this weekend and asked about it. Plus, this morning I got a text from my mother-in-law saying, “I need to know how the sensory tank experience was.”

So here’s the rundown, start to finish.

I went to bed early the night before, and woke before anyone else in my house. They advised don’t eat a lot or drink caffeine before you float. (It’s called floating – I’m hip with the lingo now.) So I ate a protein bar and drank half a glass of water. Next I showered – you’re suppose to enter the tank clean and free of lotions, hair products, etc. I packed the kids’ lunches for school, and then slipped off in the early morning mist for my 7:30 AM appointment.

When I arrived, the owner of the establishment gave me a few pointers on what to expect and how to have a successful float. I’d already read a lot on this myself. (That won’t surprise any of you that know me well.) The idea is to not have information coming into your brain from your senses – sight, touch, smell, you get the idea. It’s also not to put any strain on the body – no need to move, support yourself, resist gravity.

The goal of all this depends on the floater.

• For some, it’s just to deeply relax the muscles. This is said to be great for rehabbing injuries, recovering from a strenuous workout, or for conditions such as fibromyalgia.
• For some, it’s to enter a deep state of relaxation. To escape the outside world, de-stress, lower the blood pressure, and feel the happy result which is a large amount of dopamine released in the brain.
• For some, it’s to gain rest. It’s been scientifically proven that an hour in the tank is equivalent to four hours of sleep. Those working shift work, experiencing jet lag, or wrestling with insomnia appreciate this.
• And some are after the reported enhanced focus and creativity that comes with the theta brain waves that result from the stillness and lack of sensory input. Theta waves they’re called – the ones we experience when we’re in-between asleep and awake.

Others, like me, are just intrigued by it all, and like trying new things.

She showed me around the tank area, then left me alone in the dimly lit room. I put in the provided wax ear plugs – this reduces noise and keeps the salt water out of your ear canals. I undressed. You can wear a swim suit but the idea is not to feel anything against your skin so they recommend you enter the tank naked.

Yep.

I stepped inside the warm tank. The water was about 10 inches deep. I knelt down, and closed the door to the tank – I’m now in total darkness. From my kneeling position I put my hands down on the bottom of the tank and walk my them backwards, kind of like a crab walk – and then stretch myself out as if lying down on a couch.

At that point, rather than sinking to the bottom of the tank, I remain suspended at water level. Weightless in warm water.

There’s about 1,000 pounds of Epsom salt in that water holding me up. Truly, one thousand pounds. The water itself has sort of a slick feeling to it, due to all the dissolved salt I assume. And it’s heated to the temperature of my body.  Because I am weightless in this liquidly saline solution, I can float perfectly still. And because the water and my body are the same temp, I get the subtle sensation after a while that my body has disappeared.

But that’s not the first sensation I get. The very first sensation I experience immediately after laying down is a spinning sensation. It felt like I had turned 180 degrees within seconds of laying down on the water. But I knew this wasn’t really possible. The tank is rectagular. And not wide enough for me to fit fully sideways in it.

The spinning sensation was easy to stop by moving close enough to one of the sides of the tank to touch it with my hand or toes. Touching the tank immediately “grounds” you and the sensation stops. Crazy how that works. After a short while, the rotating feeling ended and I no longer needed to touch the tank.

For the first maybe fifteen minutes – you lose track of time in there – soothing music played in the tank along with the sound of ocean waves. It helped calm me as I got used to this very new experience.  My senses were on high alert as I took in my new surroundings – or lack there of.  And I wondered if I’d be able to settle into the “theata state” or not.

Being a journalist by training and a writer by trade, one part of me was experiencing this – determined to relax deeply – while the other part of me was documenting it and analyzing it.

I discovered the tank is a good place to pray – no distractions. I prayed frequently as the spa-like music played. Meanwhile, as long as I remained still and didn’t create any movement or waves, I couldn’t really feel where I ended or where the water began.

When the music stopped, I was in silence. Dark silence. Stillness. Except that I could hear myself breathing. You can’t help but hear yourself breathing. And here’s another discovery I made about the tank. It’s not only a good place to hear yourself think, it’s the only place I can hear myself blink!

I opened my eyes when the music stopped. Blackness. I blinked. Inky blackness. I blinked again – and I could hear myself blinking. Did you know it makes a noise when you blink? It sounded a lot like the noise my iPhone makes when I snap a photo.

I blinked for a while, fascinated with the sound.

Several more minutes passed – maybe 10? – and I believe I briefly started to hear my own heart beat. Or maybe it was blood flowing and pulsing through my neck in that spot where nurses take pulses. I’m not certain – I only heard it briefly.  I remembering thinking this must be what it’s like to be in a womb. Then my breathing slowed down and grew quieter. I no longer heard the heart beat sound.

I entered the theta state.

I never fell asleep – I just remained relaxed and still and let my thoughts go where ever they wandered. I can’t tell you where they went because I don’t really recall, not totally. (It’s like trying to recall what you were thinking in the two minutes right before you fell asleep last night.)

I very much wanted to see what this state was like, and what my mind would think/do. At the same time, I was ever so slightly worried about it. During college, my roommate Amy and I watched a (fictional) movie called Altered States about a Harvard scientist experimenting with a sensory deprivation tank. During long floats, with the aid of psychotropic drugs, he would regress into a savage being. He’d wake up the next day and find himself in a local zoo, covered in blood, with the carcass of a antelope or something beside him. So you understand my slight apprehension over what I would think about in that tank!

I didn’t have any hallucinations or “out-of-body” experiences. I didn’t have any grand epiphanies or eureka moments either. I just floated. Suspended somewhere between sleep and space.  In calm and salt.

I do remember noting that I felt very nonjudgmental while floating there.

I knew that the owner would knock three times on the tank door when my hour was up. I was to knock three times in response, and then she’d leave the room again. If I’d fallen asleep inside, she’d keep knocking until I awoke and knocked back.

I suddenly came “up” out of thea state into a relaxed but more alert state. I wondered what time it was, how much time had passed, and how much time I had left? Very shortly after that, I heard three knocks. My time was up.

I survived my float with out freaking out. And without turning savage and eating a gazelle. (It’s safe, Amy.)

Here’s some questions I’ve been asked about it:

1)  Did your hands and feet get wrinkly?  No. Not at all. That only happens when salt is drawn out of your body into the surrounding water. Salt enters your body when floating – and that is a healthy thing.

2)  Did your skin or hair turn dry from the salt? No, not at all. In fact, they may have gotten a bit softer.

3)  Can you drown in there? No. It’s only 10 inch deep water. And at any time you can sit up or bend your knee and your foot will touch the bottom.

4)  Did it smell like salt water, like the ocean? No. And this may have been specific to the brand of tank I was in, but there was a slight rubbery smell from the rubber that rimmed the door to the tank.  My daughter asked if I got used to the rubber smell, and therefore it “went away”? I told her no, I smelled it the entire time – which didn’t help the sensory deprivation goal. My husband then reminded my daughter that I have a very accute sense of smell – he thinks others wouldn’t notice it like I did. He’s probably right.

5)  Did you get claustrophobic in there? I worried a little about that in advance. But I was determined not to. I decided to do the whole “mind over matter” thing and resist any feelings of claustrophobia. A couple times I reminded myself: I can sit up and open that door and get out of this any time I want to. But I did not spend the hour fighting against the urge to scream or claw my way out of the tank.

I left there in a good mood. Not a hyper-excited good mood, more a contented and relaxed good mood.

And here’s perhaps the best part.

I came home after my float, got into a hot shower – I opted to rinse off the salt at home rather than there – threw on some yoga pants and headed for my home office. I sat down and worked for 6 1/2 hours straight.

Super focused. Super calm. Super productive.

No coffee needed.

Relaxed and yet energized, I calmly and contentedly blazed through my to-do list. The same to-do list I’d been mostly ignoring for the last couple  few several days because I never felt like buckling down and making myself tackle certain pieces of it. Now I selected a task, started it, saw it thru completion, and then moved on to the next task. All.The.Way.Through.My.List.

I didn’t get bored, or antsy, or sucked into an internet rabbit hole. You know the kind where you find yourself 40 minutes later watching YouTube videos of laughing babies and you have no idea how you got there? Yeah, none of that.

So my verdict?

It’s an interesting experience. Slightly weird, yes – at least at first. Yet also relaxing once you make peace with the idea. It’s probably not for everyone. You probably could get many of the same benefits with a good massage and/or a hot tub. But this was definitely interesting. And I tend to like interesting so long as it’s not totally whack.

(I understand what is whack to one seems reasonable to another. To each his own. See, the tank made me less judgmental.)

Would I do it again? Yes. I think I need to in order to experience the full effect of floating because you spend a lot of time the first float trying to decide if you are going to like this or not, and wondering what will happen next. I think my second time around I’ll be able to relax into it more from the get-go.

Thankfully, Rick bought me three of these floats so I’ll let you know how float # 2 goes. And I’ll decide then if I’m going to use the third float, or trade it in towards a session in the infrared sauna they have – which I’ve also been wanting to try.

So, do you think would you try this flotation tank thing if you had the chance?

This article originally appeared on http://www.rachelolsen.com/time-flotation-tank/ was written by Rachel Olsen

Sleeping Around: How to Sleep in a Sensory Deprivation Tank

“Sleeping Around” is a recurring blog post series where Dr. Winter, a sleep specialist, goes beyond the typical questions about healthy sleep and seeks out the most unique sleep circumstances to offer his assistance in how to tackle them. Even if your problems are not as extreme, hopefully the experience can help shed some light on your own sleep difficulties.

In 1953, neuroscientist John Lilly constructed the first sensory deprivation tank. This vessel was devised as a way to study the brain’s response to limited sensory input. The tank immersed the user into a totally dark and silent environment in which sound and vision as well as other sensory inputs were virtually eliminated. The theory at the time was if all sensory inputs were cut off to the brain, the brain would reflexively go to sleep. Lilly, a self-described “psychonaut”, used the tank to study these and other kinds of theories. Today, the study of sensory deprivation, or Restricted Environmental Stimulation Technique (R.E.S.T.), has led to a more widespread use of these techniques to promote health and well-being.

Being the somnonaut that I am, I have always been interested in trying to sleep in a R.E.S.T tank. While I was never convinced that I would emerge from the experience transformed into a short, hairy primitive being as in the 1980 William Hurt movie Altered States, I have always believed that the experience could be transformative.

Float tanks have been around. As someone who deals with professional sports teams, they have been used sporadically by both college and professional teams since the early 1980’s. Recently, members of both the New England Patriots and Seattle Seahawks utilized float tanks with their athletes. Their use has seen resurgence in popularity owning to their proclaimed abilities to promote relaxation, physical recovery, and pain relief.

Sign me up.

Every somnonaut needs a mission control, and AquaFloat in Charlottesville, VA filled that role perfectly. Owner and float expert Ted O’Neill met me at the facility the night of my experiment. I chose the 10 p.m. slot as I thought my chances of sleeping would be best. Slots were two hours long, but Ted does not like to interrupt a good float if nobody is signed up behind the floater.

Ted was clearly excited to be a part of yet another maiden voyage. He was enthusiastic, but calm and professional. As a pharmacist who stumbled upon floating by chance, Ted’s life was forever changed by the encounter. Put it this way: If Ted owned a corn farm, he would have plowed it up to build a baseball field. The facility was gorgeous. I expected a Spartan warehouse with industrial tanks scattered about. The aesthetics featured gentle sweeping architectural curves and local artists’ sculptural interpretations of floating. I can definitely sleep here.

After surveying the lounge, he led me to the various tanks, explaining their strengths and drawbacks. He was also careful to demonstrate the filtration systems servicing the tanks (as if something could live in an environment that is 25 percent Epsom salt!) That salt produces the magical buoyancy not unlike what you might see when tourists swim in the Great Salt Lake. “You are not going to sink,” Ted said. “When you get into the tank, I want you to fully relax your head and neck. Release those muscles completely.”

Time to get into the tank.

The tank had quiet lighting that was slowly changing color. “The light can be left on or turned off. “ He strongly recommended dark. Likewise, the hood of the tank can be left open or closed. He suggested leaving the hood open slightly if I started to feel to warm during the float. The room was dark enough that cracking the hood open a bit would not make a difference in terms of light.

“Do I wear a swimsuit?” I asked, shorts in hand.

He shook his head. “Naked. It’s the only way.”

It was time.

After a quick shower, I ventured into the tank. The temperature was perfect. Not hot, not cool. Perfectly comfortable. It was so on point that the water almost disappeared.

As I lay back, I floated effortlessly. I stretched my head backwards to the point of my eyes almost being in the water, and then let gravity slowly relax me to a neutral position. This is so easy. I loved it immediately.

With the hood down, it was time to cut the light. Immediately I was swallowed by a dense darkness. Floating there, I became aware of my first obstacle. What in the world am I supposed to do with my arms? Initially I had them down by my sides, but found that they kept floating around like pieces of driftwood. As my thumbs bumped into my legs, the floating experience was diminished. I quickly assumed the “robbery-hands-over-my-head” position and found it to be much more pleasant.

Within minutes of my positional decision and a quick mental toe to scalp muscle survey, I was floating...REALLY floating, and to borrow a phrase from Bowie, “in a most peculiar way.” Unusual experiences quickly followed. My first was an intense sensation of being pulled upward. Imagine a cord being attached to your abdomen at a point where you would be perfectly horizontally balanced. Now imagine that cord being rapidly pulled upward. The experience reminded me of the unknowing sleeper being pulled up into the UFO from the comfort of his bed. Maybe that sensation underlies the feeling people have recounting UFO abductions? What accounts for the subsequent sensation of being probed, I have no idea.

As the feeling of upward motion continued, I started to feel as if I was moving within an infinite space. An individual preparing to float for the first time might be anxious about claustrophobia. My sensation was exactly the opposite. I felt a sensation of endless space around me, like the drifting disconnected astronaut in 2001 as he floats silently away from the spaceship and HAL.

As I worked to adjust to sensations I frankly was not prepared for, I began to focus on my task at hand: sleeping. Sleeping is not typically the goal during the actual float. That said, many people who regularly float report significant sleep improvements after the float. I worked to clear my mind, although I was instructed to simply let my thoughts flow and perhaps try watching them from afar. As I became more accustomed to the physical nothingness I was within, the state began to seep into my brain. I was relaxed and at times felt nothing.

Suddenly soft colored lights came on. My first emotion was annoyance. Can somebody here not figure out how to set a two hour timer? As I reached for a towel hanging to my right so I could wipe some water off of my face, I became aware of how laborious it was to perform a simple movement. It felt awful. My body did not want to engage the muscles of my arm and back and was pointedly letting me know. Pushing through the resistance, I reached for the non-existent towel. In the soft purple light, I searched for it (without my glasses) and found nothing. Had it fallen in the water? In my search I found the towel hanging to my left. I grabbed it, and tried to push the lid of the pod open to exit the tank so I could find Ted and tell him to fix the timer. At that point I realized I was sitting backwards in the tank. The hatch was behind me.

I had turned 180 degrees in the tank.

I gracelessly turned my body around which had the coordination of a wobbly toddler, opened the hatch and stepped out. “I hate being upright,” my brain whispered to me in a bitchy voice as I looked for my watch.

12:15am. What?

As I showered and dressed, thoughts were racing as my body once again reassumed the burden of gravity similar to Atlas being tricked into bearing the weight of the world again by Hercules. Walking out into the lounge for tea, Ted was ready to listen and explain. Everything I mentioned he accepted with a knowing curiosity. He’s heard these stories before.

Did I sleep? Under no circumstances do I feel like I slept in the tank. However, it was very clear that I lost tremendous chunks of time in the tank. It did not feel like two hours. As a sleep specialist, one phenomenon that never ceases to amaze me is how much individuals with sleep problems can radically underestimate how much they are sleeping at night. People who sleep hours at night can truly feel that they are awake and conscious for the entire duration of their slumber period. It is not a fun way to spend a night. This twilight sleep (now called paradoxical insomnia) is a common issue among my patients.

“Promise me you’ll come back. You’ve just scratched the surface. It gets much better.” I felt the effects of the session for days. Even my wife said I looked different when I came home that night. I felt like a cooked noodle. While I have not returned as of writing this article, I think it’s only a matter of time before the weight of my clinical practice, raising three kids, flying around the country trying to help athletes sleep better lead me to dash out the door for a float. I can almost hear my wife calling after me, “Don’t you need a swimsuit?”

“Nope. Naked is the only way!”

This article originally appeared on Huffington Post and was written by Dr. Christopher Winter