Float tanks just host isolated meditative environments. There’s no prerequisite to get stoned, nor are you forced to do anything, other than perhaps relax. Sure, you can keep the tank lid open and some tanks can play music. Otherwise, it’s just you and your mind. I’ve found that with my sensory inputs dampened by the tank environment, I can conceptualize bigger or broader ideas, or I can address deep rooted psychological issues. Nothing psychedelic, man…
I have had some weird things happen.
I invited someone along with deep rooted anxiety issues. The type that can’t be away from technology for one hour. I was anxious the whole time. I’m normally not, unless I’m untying a mental knot and going through some heavy thoughts.
I heard music once.
“Hey, so this is a weird question, but did you play some, like, light elevator music most of the way through my session for a few minutes?” “No…” We guessed it was probably the music in the lobby that permeated through to the tank.
My first float had interesting results.
Years prior, I’d worked with a personal trainer to get in shape. Plenty of stretches, including my back muscles. The first time I laid flat on my back in a tank, I heard about a dozen little pops, like you would with a good stretch. Felt good!
Otherwise, it’s been fairly tame.
On psychedelics, I’ve heard plenty of voices from hopefully imaginary sources, mentally reconstructed the heads up displays of videogames while doing yardwork, disassociated myself completely from pain and reality, and more wacky adventures.
Floating is just nice.
Sometimes, it’ll be purely physical. Maybe I’ve been sore or hurt my leg. My attention will drift to that. I always have to have a completely empty bladder or I’ll need to pee really bad halfway through. Or I’ll leave feeling fatigued.
That’s when I’ve been pushing myself too much.
I credit about half of my progress in life over the last three years to floating. I don’t empty my mind in there. I dig in deep. I ask myself the difficult questions. “Why are you unhappy?” “Mad?” “What do you want from life?” “So what?” “Why?”
Floating is therapy for me.
I’ve used my sessions to help me realize some of the roots of my addictions. I’ve been decisive with actions that weren’t helping me. I was reminded of “The Story” during one session, and thinking of scenes in the tank provide deep euphoria.
I can write a week’s worth on content in 2.5 hours.
Floating isn’t something I do frequently. It will unlock ideas I’m not ready for, as well, or help me realize things too soon. Sensory deprivation is not for everyone. It’s not always even right for me at all particular moments.
Here’s the thing.
If you’ve done research, either independently or with guidance from a doctor, floating can help. It’s helped me and others. Just don’t rush into it. It’s kinda weird and occasionally awkward.
Floating is just accelerated meditation.