THE BODY BUOYANT
A little quiet bobbing in a ‘floatation’ tank may set your anxieties adrift
I am a rubber duckie. No, a leaf. No, a flower petal. Adrift on a pond. No, on an ocean. A calm, salty ocean with no beginning or end. Boundless. Buoyant. Blissful.
Do I have a body? I don’t know anymore. It’s dark in here, so dark I blink my eyes to see if they’re open or not, and I still can’t tell. I’m weightless. This must be what zero gravity is like. Maybe I’m in a space station, in a hibernation pod, sliding through the stars. Will I awaken on Mars?
No, this buoyant experience is taking place in the Oakland Floats spa. I’ve been bobbing in thick salty water for more than an hour in what used to be called a sensorydeprivation tank — now termed a float tank, the vehicle of float therapy.
First developed by researcher John Lilly in the 1950s and ‘60s, and once considered a hippie, trippy, new-agey wellness regimen, floating is now flowing into the mainstream alongside other fringe-gone-common practices like meditation and acupuncture. Devotees include pro athletes like Steph Curry and some fellow Warriors (Curry recently posted a promo about floating for Kaiser), plus members of the Cubs, the Seahawks, the Patriots — all doing it for what they say are rejuvenating mental and muscle effects.
In addition to this boost from the sports world, as well as a growing interest in alternative therapies and people seeking relief from intensely tense lifestyles, float centers are surfacing seemingly everywhere. A few years ago, there were only two float spas near San Francisco. Today, there are 24 in the greater Bay Area, from Santa Cruz to Sebastopol. At last count, there were 367 across the U.S. and about 722 worldwide, according to float-spa directory FloatationLocations.com.
“It’s really kicked into gear these last couple of years,” says Michael Garrett, owner of Reboot Float & Cryo Spas in San Francisco and Oakland, where Curry and teammates float about twice a month. “The benefits are so amazing and wide-ranging,” Garrett says. “People come primarily for stress relief and pain relief, because it’s the only time your muscles can totally relax. It lowers your blood pressure. Plus, your brain waves slow down. You’re able to dive into a meditative state.”
Kane Mantyla, who opened San Francisco’s Float Matrix in 2006, says floating provides an environment to help us “recalibrate back to who we are.
“I like to say, I help people feel like kids
again,” he says. “My belief is floatation tanks will be the next tool that helps us evolve as humans.”
Some tanks, like the one at Oakland Floats from which I just emerged, are like big bathtubs with high ceilings. They also offer more “womblike” tanks, with less head room and a cozier experience. Others have sleek, space-age pods — like something for a long galactic journey.
Getting tanked
All are filled with about 8 to 10 inches of water and 800 to 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts for buoyancy. And all tout the benefits for everything from stress relief to easing arthritis, fibromyalgia, insomnia and even jet lag. With sight, sound and distractions eliminated, many people say they connect with the subconscious, and see morphing shapes and colors or experience vivid memory recall.
For Nuha Masri, a marketing executive from Palo Alto, a session at Insight Float in San Carlos was an enlightening experience from the get-go.
“I was so amazed at how I was able to shut down my body and really focus,” she says. “I was able to visualize certain things from my childhood — I was able to remember accounts I had completely forgotten ... playing with my brother, climbing a mulberry tree. I was able to vividly recall those memories, and I really felt like I was entering my subconscious level.”
For John Balquist, owner of Oakland Floats, who floated for his first time in 2011 and opened his spa shortly thereafter, it wasn’t so much the actual floating — it was how he felt for days after.
“It was almost like it released endorphins, a feeling of happiness and creativity,” he says.
While much evidence for a healthful benefit is anecdotal, numerous studies have indeed shown reduced blood pressure, relief of muscle tension, insomnia and more. A 2006 study published in the International Journal of Stress Management showed relief of stress-related pain. Ongoing research is looking at enhanced mental acuity after floating. And studies on relief from fibromyalgia symptoms are underway at places like the Float Clinic and Research Center at the Laureate Institute for Brain Research in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where they’re measuring brain-wave responses and more.
Many past studies have been fairly small, and it’s still unclear if floating effects indeed differ from deep meditation or other relaxation techniques. Some say to take the studies with a grain of salt for now.
Even so, floating is not going to hurt you, though it might hurt your wallet. Most 75-minute sessions are about $85 to $100, maybe a bit less with spa memberships. Some offer all-night floats (amazingly, you don’t become a prune, thanks to the salt). And if you’re really serious, you can buy your own shiny, spacey, fiberglass float tank — in a variety of colors — from companies like Dream Pod, with computer-controlled music and light animations starting at about the price of a compact car. Or try a more affordable portable float “tent” from Zen Float Company for around $2,000.
Rising above
Anne Koller of Oakland, a wellness trainer who has long been involved in water sports — the University of Minnesota grad was a semipro swimmer — has used water in healing practices and credits floating with her defeating her deep fear of drowning.
“Here’s this dichotomy — I love everything about water, but I’ve always been terrified of drowning,” she says. “But I would go into the tanks, the more womblike ones, and at first, I would feel the panic. But I just went with it. In the tank, you can hear your heartbeat and feel your breath, so when I inhaled, I thought ‘I am safe,’ and when I exhaled, ‘I am home.’”
After floating at least once a week for nearly a year, Koller says her fear is absolutely gone. “It’s mindboggling what people are doing with this,” she says. “I really think floating is the next acupuncture.”
Indeed, you can’t drown, because the water is buoyant, and even if you were to fall asleep and roll over, the salt would instantly sting your eyes and wake you up. If you’re extremely claustrophobic, you might want to choose one of the larger tanks. Even so, you’re never locked in. You can get out at any time and even turn the light on in your tank, if you prefer.
“There’s nothing fringe about this anymore,” says Mike Jones, co-founder of Insight Float in San Carlos, which just opened in December. “It’s becoming very much part of next-generation therapies. But I don’t want people to step into it expecting magic is going to happen,” he says. “I want people to have no expectations and just let the experience wash over them.”
With ear plugs in and swimsuit on (though some float nude), I was eager to give floating a try. Right off, it’s warm — body-temperature water — and soothing, but it’s some time before I reach drifting duckie/leaf/ petal stage. My mind tinkers away — mostly plotting how to document the experience — but I do finally let go. It is indeed relaxing and more than merely like taking a hot bath. There’s something about the darkness, the quiet, the gentle, buoyant support. Soon, I don’t even feel the water anymore. Or my body. Just my being.
I hear a soft bonging piped in — like wind chimes in the distance — letting me know it’s time to leave my ocean. I’m slimy now. A fish out of water. I shower off the salt, dress and sip cucumber water — fresh H²0.
An interesting experience. It might be for you; it might not. Whatever floats your boat.