John Milton

            I have nothing but admiration for the first man (or woman) to eat oysters, a feat of courage and imagination I rank with Viking ships and space shuttles. Isolation tanks require neither courage nor imagination. Conceived in 1954 by Dr. John C. Lilly, you float effortlessly on heavily salted water, your senses deprived of outside stimuli. According to Nobel laureate Richard Feynmann, early floaters reveled in isolated hallucination after ingesting L.S.D. My float center provided no hallucinogens, but there was New Age music, and a motto--new beginnings through relaxation. I do not know about new beginnings, but deep relaxation worked on my mind. I felt better about myself and have no idea why. Outrageous, but modern as tomorrow, isolation tanks offer a positive, progressive break with the past.
            Our son, David, my mentor in New Age matters, gave me a one hour float as a birthday present. He described tanks so dark you cannot see the wall two inches from your eyes. "Floating", he said, "creates the sensation of suspension in space. It separates you from everything but yourself." My misgivings were eased somewhat by Michael Hutchinson's Book of Floating. Hutchinson, initially skeptical, wrote that floating lowers blood pressure and raises the incidence of beneficial blood particles. David told me to expect the best, but it seemed too bizarre, and the float center, about forty minutes away in Wethersfield, meant taking three hours out of my day. I assumed an attendant lowers the lid of the tank and was not alone in that misconception. Friends were not reassured when I reported you lower the lid yourself. Enter or exit as you please.
            The float center looked like the warehouse it had been, but inside I found utopia. Beige carpet, plants, sky lights, crisp modern furniture, and above all, cleanliness, created an almost religious atmosphere. I had never seen a float tank and was pleased to learn they are egg shaped which seemed right. Inside the tank, above six inches of water, three switches controlled the interior light, the sound system, and an intercom to the office. The center offered subliminal, self improvement audio tapes that purportedly help you lose weight, stop smoking or ease tensions. I tried the weight loss tape, but lost none. Each tank room contained a shower. You are told to cover cuts with salve to protect them from the salt and to use the disposable ear plugs. Caked salt blocks ear canals. You shower, climb into the vessel, turn out the light and relax in total blackness. Claustrophobics need not fear containment because the blackness is infinite. You are released. I was bored until I realized how comfortable I was. Since this first time was to be my last, I decided to make the best of it. Muscles relaxed, my body supported by the warm, buoyant water.
            In his book, Hutchinson speculates that floating simulates a return to the womb. I know nothing of that, but the sensation satisfied something. I drifted into a trance-like state and was startled when the chime signaled time was up. The next day I purchased a monthly float plan. Five floats later I doubled my floating time. The more I floated, the more deeply I relaxed. My body, eager to experience the sensation, returned to where it left off and proceeded to deeper relaxation.
            The float center provided, at small additional charge, self improvement video tapes. Floaters who watch television are not entirely sensory deprived, but video images of expert athletes doing their thing in slow motion, purportedly make lasting impressions on a deeply relaxed brain. Tennis, golf, and other sports were available, but I chose racquetball, and watched a world class player repeat forehands, backhands and serves.
            I play racquetball Mondays and Fridays at lunch, and played two days after seeing the video. I won twice, and my friend wondered why he played so poorly. I suggested that perhaps my playing improved. He allowed that I seemed to be hitting the ball harder. I told him about floating and the video. A week later, without floating, he beat me two out of three.
            Friends are accustomed to my rapidly shifting enthusiasms. I tried inversion boots, and persuaded a few to try, but unlike floating, inversion boots make sense. Hanging upside down stretches your body vertically and gravity acts differently on your organs. Floating is irrational, but I offer it as a metaphor for the break with the past that opens new horizons. I envision a day when float centers will be public facilities like parks and schools. I probably will not live to see it, so reluctantly do we change our minds.
            As a proselytizer of floating, I urged others to try, but of the many I approached, I persuaded only one. Everyone conceded it sounded interesting, but even when the floats were free, it was not interesting enough. They were free because the center was closing and I had a limited time to use my pre-paid plan. The float center is an office building now, and since it has not reopened, I assume it was not a financial success. Floating is too far off the beaten path. Devotees increase, but the increasing incidence of AIDS raises questions about communal bathing. Who knows what will come of it?
            Floating requires a minor change of mind, and if I cannot succeed with the insignificant, how can I persuade the religious that present perceptions of God damage or that equality is a better basic social assumption than hierarchy? I say, "Come in, the water's fine", but you refuse and I do not blame you. If I were you, with your experiences and concerns, I would not believe me either. David, urging me onward, mentions a man who teaches fire walking. For seventy-five dollars you receive four hours of preparation that culminates in a stroll across red hot coals. A television news segment showed hundreds of people fire walking. The reporter could not keep the wonder out of his voice. Fire walking supposedly opens us to new possibilities by changing our perception of reality. Fire walking lurks in the back of my mind, but I am not ready. Before change can occur, one must be ready. Collective change requires collective readiness. Someday enough of us may be willing to try.