In The Dark

Jellyfish tendrils in open ocean.

Image by Braedon McLeod.

There’s all kinds of research about the importance of stress management and the positive effects of mindfulness on the quality of our lives. To that end, I’ve sampled a variety of techniques aimed at stress reduction throughout my life and found some surprises along the way.

Paper boat floating on water.

Image by Janis Fasel.

I’ll never forget my first experience with a float tank. It was several years ago and up until that point, the thought of sensory deprivation as a modality to mitigate stress seemed absurd to me. It also seemed a bit frightening at the time. I mean, what was I going to do with all that silence and lack of activity? Sure, I slept on the regular but this wasn’t sleeping. I’d been taught long ago not to fall asleep anywhere near water.

Still, I followed my curiosity and went for it. Admittedly, it took me a while between purchasing the session and actually experiencing it. I kept putting it off as something for later – you know, when I had more time. And before I knew it, the ‘use by’ date for the session was nearing, calling out my procrastination. I scheduled my session on a Friday. Though I technically had the day off, I had a boatload of things on my list of things to attend to for work (and life in general), my son had a school event that night, and my in-laws were coming to stay with us that afternoon. So, I wasn’t feeling the let’s-get-calm vibes that day. I was feeling the let’s-check-this-off-the-list-and-move-on-to-the-next-thing energy most of my “days off” tended to have in that season of my life.

The float spa asked me to arrive early for an orientation and after verifying paperwork, I was taken to an adorable sitting room to watch a short video about my upcoming experience. In the video, a narrator’s soothing voice explained what to expect and the sequence of events. Admittedly, it was nice to see ahead of time what things would look like and I was honestly surprised at the size of the floatation pods – I had images of a black lake in a wide-open dark space in my mind. I remember being relieved to learn that there was actually an option to leave the lights on, as well as one to have music if you’d like that. You could even use your own music. I’d told myself I’d go for the dark and silence to try the experience, but it was nice to know there were other options.

I love options.

At one point in the video, the narrator explained how our minds may wander, or we may experience boredom or unexplained emotions during our float and that it was all okay. They said that some people opt to get out at the point where they start feeling bored or wondering if it’s time to get out yet, but encouraged staying in the pod to experience the full benefits of the float. Specifically, the narrator said, “Think of this as time with yourself. And if you find yourself getting bored, think about what that says about you.” I remember thinking that was a horrible thing to say (even with their lovely delivery) and that their copywriter should be fired.

When I was a kid, if we told my parents we were bored, my mom usually had retort about that being our problem and that boredom was for boring people (as in, if we were bored, it was due to personal choice and perhaps a lack of imagination or some shortcoming in character). My ego disliked the implications even as a child, and I found myself determined not to ‘get bored’ in the float tank.

Jellyfish floats in open ocean.

Image by Braedon McLeod.

I didn’t get bored in there, but it had nothing to do with my personal choice or efforts. Once settled in, I (mentally) asked a question I’d been seeking answers for and then, as I floated on the salt water cloud in the darkness, I lost all connection to reality. It wasn’t like the world had just been pushed aside, for me, it had vanished completely. Even my body had become one with the universe. I lost all concept of time and space and individuality and was so blissed out when I climbed out of that float tank, even cleanup felt like an out of body experience.

It took me a while to reintegrate my mind into my corporeal form and I was grateful for the tea room and oxygen bar that were a part of the entire experience. I did some journaling while I came back to myself, realizing that I felt more myself than I had in years. I’d also received an answer to the question I’d been pondering for weeks (the one I took into the float pod with me). Even though all had been as advertised with the physical experience of the float, I remember being amazed at how incredible I felt, just from unplugging from everything for an hour.

No lie, I was blissed out for three days after that first float.

And because of that, not much phased me. Things that had previously seemed triggering, no longer held that power (because I didn’t give it). I was not only more open in my communication, I was more willing to protect my own well-being and boundaries as well (something I wasn’t as adept at during that season of my life). I’d had no idea deep meditation could do that to a person. I’d heard about variations on that theme, but until that point, I’d not experienced it first-hand in my adult life. I’d usually been too busy mentally cataloguing my experience in the midst of having it, or mentally berating my ‘monkey mind’ for not shutting up and just letting me freaking meditate. (I now know the monkey mind is a figment of the imagination. It doesn’t actually exist, that’s just our brains releasing unprocessed stress and needs to be allowed, not managed).

There is liberation in letting go.

While I’d known this truth before, I experienced it differently that day in the float tank. In that case, it wasn’t about actively letting go of this or that. It wasn’t about consciously processing or making choices. It wasn’t about taking an action to underscore some decision. It was about simply allowing. The letting go was about releasing expectation or attachment to a specific idea or outcome. It was about relinquishing control (which is an illusion anyway). And the results were delicious.

When we loosen our hold on our agendas and surrender our perceived need for things to be a certain way, we create space for imagination and delight. When we allow things to unfold as they will rather than trying to force an outcome, we can experience a sense of ease, even amidst challenging situations. When we let things (and situations, and people) be what they are and what they want to be without consciously directing them, we can step into a flow state unlike any other. When we allow what wants to show up to show up and what wants to go to go, we create space for all kinds of gifts and lessons.

Here’s to giving ourselves the freedom to surrender. To releasing our hold on the way we think things need to happen and allowing for the unfolding. To giving ourselves the gift of letting go.

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