(this is annie)

After having my leg wrapped up for six weeks, I wanted to treat myself to some sort of sitting-in-water activity. My initial plan was to rent a car and head to Calistoga for a sybaritic weekend of hot tubs and mud baths, but it was too expensive. Remembering how Josh once raved about his time in a sensory deprivation tank, I thought, "Enh, why not?" and signed myself up for an hour in a float tank.

If you've never heard of the idea, it's pretty simple: A windowless plastic tank is filled with half a ton (literally) of epsom salt in about 10 inches of water. You float on your back in complete silence and darkness. The theory is that after about 40 minutes, your brain shifts into theta waves, and you have all kinds of clarity and creativity and breakthroughs, etc. I didn't go in expecting any of that to happen; I was curious about the experience of being completely alone, fetus-style. So here's how it went. (It is going to seem very woo-woo. Sorry. Blame California.)

If it sounds terrifying to step into an enclosed space, close a hatch, and be surrounded by darkness, that's because it is. For the first minute or two, my heart was racing and my claustrophobic ass wanted out. I thought of Buffy's resurrection and then thought, "You are not in a coffin, and you can leave if you really want to, and season six was a difficult but ultimately transformative time for Buffy anyway." That calmed me, and I focused on breathing slowly while my body slowly drifted around the tank.

Because the water is heated to 98 degrees, it's easy to lose sense of your body's boundaries. In theory, anyway. The first thing I will say is possibly TMI, but I put it out here for all the ladies who may consider floating: The salt water will sting your lady parts in ways you did not think possible. It burns, burns, burns, that ring of fire. "Oh my god," I thought. "This is what syphilis must feel like." (When I later mentioned this to the proprietor, Mr. Floaty, he gave me a sheepish look. He said that it was because ladyparts are acidic, and the water is alkaline, and the two don't get along well. He added that not all women experience the sensation, but it's actually a good thing because it means that I'm healthy. And then we both decided to stop talking about my lady parts.)

So! After my delicate bits acclimated to the water, I then felt the tension in my shoulders and the distress of my foot. "This is not comfortable," I thought, wondering if maybe I should have just gone for a massage instead. But after a few minutes, the pain left, and I had nothing physical to focus on.

I knew my body was there, of course but I couldn't tell where it ended and the water began. (At one point, I thought the tips of my fingers were in the water, but they were actually in the air.) It was like being nothing but brain — kind of like Krang from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

"Sensory deprivation tank" isn't the right word for these things, because my senses sharpened after only a few minutes. The absence of sound amplified my breath, and for the first time, I could hear subtleties in exhalation. So quiet. And then, in a bizarre moment, I thought, "What is that sound?" It wasn't coming from the outside, and then realized that I could hear my eyelids as they blinked.

You know that feeling right before falling asleep, when you close your eyes and can sort of see squiggles and flashes against black? Being in the tank was like that, but more intense. With my eyes open, I saw mostly black, but out of the corner of my right eye I felt a white glow like a flashlight shining into a dark night. I looked straight ahead and saw twisting shapes, mostly yellow-white and electric. They became jagged lines and fell into diagonal patterns that came rushing down toward me. It was scary, but I felt like I had to look. So I did, and they kept coming, and tears started sliding into the water. I wasn't thinking about anything, not even my dad, but something about the visuals made me cry.

Then a Jawbreaker song popped into my head (big surprise there) and I was back into my normal rapid-fire mind. Mr. Floaty had told me that as my mind relaxed into nothingness, it would try to snap itself back into focus. It was the mental equivalent of being at a party, having some socially awkward thing happen, and then babbling about nothing to fill up the silence. Again I focused on breathing, and my thoughts drifted away.

I know I didn't fall asleep, but I don't remember anything about being awake, either. It was like disappearing and being somewhere else, but not knowing where that place is. Right before my time was up, I drifted back into consciousness and thought, "It's probably almost over." Immediately I heard the gentle tap-tap of Mr. Floaty's hands on the outside of the tank.

I showered, paid, and decided that doing drugs must be something like that. The outside world felt different, almost dreamlike. At home, I managed to stay awake for only 30 minutes before falling into a deep afternoon nap. Later, Chris and I went out for cocoa. "You seem different," he said.

"Different how?"

"I don't know," he said. "Just different."

Maybe, maybe not. It's not as though I had some Mulderiffic breakthrough that delivered copious amounts of insight or creativity. And I wouldn't say the experience was completely relaxing. It was so intense that I'm only beginning to process it a day later. (I am also completely aware of how oddball the whole thing must seem.) Still, it was a new and unusual experience, so I'm glad I tried it. Even if it sounds bizarre, and especially because it inadvertently inspired a Sunday filled with Johnny Cash songs.

Labels: emo spice, jawbreaker