Flotation therapy actually does have its origins in research labs, said Sara Garvin, who opened Float Boston with her husband, Colin Roald, two and a half years ago. Garvin, a licensed massage therapist, had heard about the positive results of water therapy. When she tried - and loved - flotation but couldn't find a float facility in the Boston area, she and Roald opened their own.

When I arrived for my introductory afternoon session at Float, Garvin greeted me, helped me exchange my street shoes for cute blue rubber slippers, and gave me a quick tour and orientation. Float has four private float rooms, each with its own shower and float chamber. Everything you'd need before, during, and after your session was either in the rooms or just outside, in clean, cozy shared areas - toiletries, a hair dryer, combs, and free hot tea in a peaceful lounge. Float felt like a cozy day resort.

They had me scheduled for a float in room 4. The room was spacious, with a stand-up shower in one corner. There were a couple of benches to sit on while you got dressed and undressed, and a small table that held a salt lamp and a little tray of supplies - body lotion, a makeup remover pad, sticky earplugs, and packet of petroleum jelly to smooth on any small cuts. Garvin had said that the water in each tank contains about a thousand pounds of very high-grade Epsom salts, making the salt concentration even denser than the Dead Sea. I imagined that even a paper cut, in that kind of water, could hurt worse than gargling with lemon juice when you have a cavity.

A foam pool noodle and circular head ring hung from the wall. Sara suggested ways I might use them, if needed, to help prop up my head and knees. A spray bottle and washcloth hung near the tank door in case I got the salt water on my face or in my eyes.

In one of the other rooms, Sara had showed me a Summer Sky walk-in tank, which looked like a really spacious walk-in shower. It even had fiber-optic lights in the ceiling that mimicked a starry night. In room 4, however, was the Escape Pod Explorer tank, which struck me as looking like a huge industrial, front-loader washing machine. Garvin obviously knew it well, judging from her advice about where best to position your head (in the back, near the fan ventilation), how to prop the door open if you need a little light (with the washcloth, rolled up), and how to get your bearings if you get disoriented (touch the sides of the tank with your hands and feet). It seemed to be her favorite. Hey, I thought, if the washing machine was good enough for her, it was good enough for me. Garvin then left me alone to do my thing. It was 5:15.

I got undressed, stuck in the earplugs, and scrubbed my hair and body thoroughly in the shower - a requirement for keeping the flotation tanks clean. Knowing I'd soon be sensory-deprived, I enjoyed the scents of the body wash and shampoo from the wall dispenser as I suspiciously eyed the tank where I was to spend the next 90 minutes of my life. I'm very nearsighted, so after I took out my contact lenses and dimmed the lights, my blurry vision only added to the surreal quality of the scene. 

I tossed in the foam floaties, stepped into the tank, and closed the little door after me, propping it open a bit with the rolled-up washcloth. I lay down in the water, and there we were -- my naked self, a head ring and pool noodle - floating alone in a dark, silent tank. And we'd be there for an hour and a half.

I'm surprised I didn't feel more claustrophobic, though I must say it was a little scary at first. I guess it helped to know I was in control of the entire experience - I could open the door, get out, take a break, or even stop altogether at any point if I wanted.

I spent the first few minutes, I think (it's hard to say, because I truly lost all sense of time in there) just getting acclimated and playing with the foot-deep water. It felt normal when I sat up in it, but the moment I lay back, buoyancy would take over. I giggled over and over as I lay back to feel my body pop up with a gentle "boink" on the surface of the water, like an inflated raft in a pool. I made snow angels, swooshed from side to side of the tank, and felt the tickling of the salts against my back. The water made my skin feel very slippery, like the well water in my house when the filtration system desperately needs maintenance - times a thousand. A few times, I heard soft whooshes that I guess were the sounds of plumbing elsewhere in the building, but otherwise, the only sound I heard was the occasional gurgling of my stomach as it digested the sandwich I'd had for lunch.

Somewhere around what I guess was the middle of my session, there was a deep sense of calm. Wow, I thought, this is what it feels like to have ZERO distractions. No smells, no sounds, no sights, no physical sensations. Just, somehow...be-ing. The only feeling was the surface of the water against my skin when I moved, or the occasional, gentle bump of my toes or elbow against the tank liner. And since the water was heated to body temperature, when I didn't move, I felt...nothing. In my deepest moments of relaxation I felt suspended in midair. Truly floating. Like one of those magic shows where the magician levitates a woman. It was the feeling of lying peacefully in bed right before you drop off to sleep - except without the bed.

After what felt like five hours, I finally heard the soft instrumental music that signaled the end of my session. The music slowly grew in volume and rhythm until I was being serenaded by a recording of happy African children. It was hard to move. I felt deeply disoriented and a little queasy - not surprising, since even antigravity yoga makes me motion-sick.

Moving like a linebacker in a slow-motion sports replay, I showered off the salt, got dressed, and stumbled into the lounge area. "Welcome back," said a staff member gently as I fumbled with the tea maker and dropped into one of the lounge chairs. According to my cell phone, it was 7 p.m. It took me an hour and a half and 3 cups of herbal tea for my mental fog to lift enough so that I could drive home.

I slept deeply that night, and the next, and more benefits came in the days that followed. In the three days since my session, I've enjoyed an overall sense of deep peace and calm and several interesting moments of laser-sharp focus. Garvin suggests floating three times before deciding if you like it or not. At some point - maybe in a few weeks - I'll take her advice and get in the tank again.

   

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