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sensory deprivation
March 16th, 2022
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Today I spent an hour in a sensory deprivation tank for the first
time. My wife bought me a gift certificate to a local place that
has the tanks and some fancy chair massages, but with the COVID
situation as it was I was waiting to cash in. This week happens to
be light at work so the time finally felt right.
My appointment was at 11:30 and I managed to show up right on
time. The door was locked, oddly, so I knocked and was welcomed
inside by another American transplant. He runs the shop and said
he was just getting in and getting another visitor set up in the
next room. She was a very pregnant 20-something. I heard their
conversation and recommendations for comfort. The guy knew his
stuff. It turns out his wife is also quite far along in her
pregnancy, so they've been getting a lot of practice.
Once it was my turn I was led into a private room and given the
tour. Here is the shower for getting clean and rinsed before
entering the tank (just as is the custom at the pools in Iceland).
Here is a table with towels and a spray bottle. When you are in
the tank if you touch your face or rub your eyes, the salt water
will get all over you and it's impossible to clean off without
some help. Thus the spray bottle and the hand towel. And here are
a pair of earplugs. They're not really necessary for the sound, as
the room and tank are well insulated, but they do keep the salt
water from going deep in your ear canal. I was sure to put those
in right away.
Finally I met the tank itself. It was bigger than I expected,
which was a welcome relief. I was a little worried about feeling
claustrophobic, but this gave me room to stretch out nicely. It
was lit from within and looked clean and inviting with a little
motion to the water as the pumps did their thing. The lid opened
from the front, by the head, much like a car's trunk. You could
step in, squat down, and use the handle inside to pull the lid
closed above you. The owner of the shop recommended settling in
with the door ajar first, then closing it if comfortable. He said
leaving it open to the air might make you cold.
The lights and sound are on a timer. Everything dimmed quite low
and soothing spa sounds were barely audible in the background.
After I washed and got into the tank I quickly settled into
position and lowered the lid. The light faded first, about five
minutes in. Then the sounds faded out too, perhaps ten minutes
later. It was around this time I decided I was actually quite hot
with the lid closed, and the cool air would be welcome. I pushed
it open a foot or so, and found my happy temperature. The whole
room was blacked out at this point, so there was no functional
difference to the experience other than heat.
Now that I was alone with my thoughts it was game-on. I have,
thankfully, participated in a number of silent retreats in the
past. I think these have prepared me well for being alone and the
difficulties of quieting the mind.
I can remember my very first three-day silent retreat: I arrived
on a Friday evening and all the participants greeted each other
normally. We had dinner with conversation, getting to know one
another a bit. Silence began when the meal ended. We were to
remain in silence until the end of Mass on Sunday, at which time
we would have a lunch together with conversation again. That first
night my mind was on fire with cool ideas and things I wanted to
remember to say when silence ended. I wrote a huge amount of notes
in my Moleskine notebook. Saturday continued that way until the
early afternoon. I was walking in the garden and I found a single
leaf dangling about 10 feet below its tree, attached only from
a single strand of a spider's web. No spider was in sight but
I was enraptured. My whole attention went on that leaf and the
spider silk strand. In those minutes I forgot about my notebook
and remembering things for later. I finally started to let go of
my rapid-paced mental dialogue and just be present. And that's
when I finally met the silence, truly.
Once I found the silence it became an old friend. I try my best to
find it as quickly as I can on retreats now. I generally don't
take a notebook at all anymore, unless the retreat has some sort
of focused agenda to work on at specific times. Instead I try to
settle into that emptiness and just exist there.
A sensory deprivation tank is the perfect place to do that.
I dusted off an old trick I used on an 8 day retreat a few years
back: I thought about a book I want to write, and about a specific
character. I focused my attention on that character and what makes
her unique. What defines her, what part of her personality gets
her into trouble? And after just a couple minutes of that focused
thinking, not about anything that was bothering me, or about my
actual life, I felt my attention begin to wander. And so I let it
wander away from the book, and towards the silence. There it was.
The rest of the time passed quickly. The lights began to fade back
up, and there was the spa sounds again. In another minute they
were on in full and I knew it was time to get out, wash up, and
head home. Washing that much salt out of my hair took a while, but
there was no rush. I spoke some pleasantries with the owner on my
way out, but I was still carrying the silence with me. That's one
of my favorite parts of retreats as well. How long can I keep the
silence there with me, present underneath everything going on.
Sadly it seems the answer is roughly as long as I spent in silence
in the first place. One hour gets me one more. Three days get me
three more. Thirty days got me a bonus month.
I love the silence. I love the peace it brings, even when I'm back
in the thick of things.
I really enjoyed my time in the tank. I may do it again, but
probably not right away. They offer a monthly pass, but it doesn't
feel like the right fit, personally. Maybe once a quarter or twice
a year? It's a lovely ritual, though. If you have the opportunity
to try it out I would recommend it. Try to be at peace and let go.
It's surprisingly easy.