#float toronto

Experiencing a float tank may just put you in the most relaxed state you have ever been in. It’s totally effortless, you float due to the high salt content in the water, and will slip away into a DEEP meditative state.

We Tried Float Toronto’s Sensory Deprivation Tanks

If you asked us to close our eyes and imagine perfect relaxation, we might see turquoise waters, coconuts, and a swinging hammock... or a blanket fort and a great novel... or our best friend, tacos, and tequila, depending on the day (we can be very adaptable). What’s not exactly top of mind is an enclosed space, seven and a half feet long by four feet wide, bathed in a darkness so total that it promises to deprive us of our very senses. Call us crazy, but such a venue does not immediately seem conducive to finding our inner peace.

The enclosed space in question is a floatation tank. Also known as a sensory deprivation or isolation tank, it is filled with 850 pounds of Epsom salts in a ten-inch salt-water solution. This ensures that visitors inside the tank are highly buoyant—they float without effort. The water has been precisely heated to 34.1˚C; this is “skin-receptor neutral,” meaning that over time one should “lose track of where [one’s] body ends and the water begins.” 

Floaters are also deprived of sight and sound: with the door closed and ears plugged and underwater, the tank is pitch black and nearly silent. The idea is that without the force of gravity or overwhelming sensory data, the floating body is suddenly equipped with excess resources to expend, prompting healing and de-stressing. Purported benefits of float tanks include pain relief, increased blood circulation, magnesium absorption, stress reduction, and even improved creativity.

At Float Toronto, co-owner Jesse Ratner-Decle advises new floaters “keep an open mind about what the experience is going to be like for you,” to avoid limiting their experience. Located on Queen Street West between Ossington and Dufferin, Float Toronto is outfitted with five floatation tanks. Open seven days a week from 8:00 am until 1:00 am, visitors are welcome to come in for one- or two and a half-hour floating sessions. The centre’s website promises that a visit in the tank is “likely to be the most relaxing thing you’ve ever experienced.” With that in mind, the author of this post booked her first-ever float.

Pre-Float

Float Toronto’s website is a good resource for first-time floaters, full of pre-float procedural tips and a comprehensive FAQ page. (Question: Is this like altered states? Answer: Yes, but you’re not fully submerged in water, you don’t eat ritualistic mushrooms, and only a small percentage of floaters turn into proto-human monkeys.) Pleased that someone has already asked the hard-hitting questions, my fears are temporarily abated. On the day of my float, I drink plenty of water to stay hydrated, reduce my caffeine intake, and have a smaller lunch, all in the interest of optimizing my float.

The atmosphere of the Float Toronto centre is tranquil, in marked contrast with the bustling street outside. (My streetcar driver yelled himself hoarse as he battled traffic before dropping me in front of the centre.) The lights are softly dimmed. A sign at the front desk requests that visitors remove their shoes and speak in quiet voices. 

In the corner beside the front desk are comfy sofas and a bookcase with paperbacks for sale. Titles include The Deep Self: Consciousness Exploration in the Isolation Tank and Tanks for the Memories: Floatation Tank Talks, both by neuroscientist and floatation tank inventor Dr. John C. Lilly. A selection of complementary teas is available. 

I am escorted to a private room, which houses my floatation tank and a shower with Neuma hair products. A sea urchin mural by Toronto-based graffiti artist Birdo decorates the bathroom wall. I am instructed to shower before entering the tank and again post-float. In one hour, soft music will fade through the tank’s underwater speakers to alert me that the session has come to an end. Float on.

The Float

Following a quick shower, I spend a minute contemplating the tank, peering into its depths through the hatch-like square door. I insert the orange foam earplugs provided and enter with some trepidation. In the interest of reconnaissance, I spend the first few minutes of my float with the door open, trying out a few positions and orienting myself within the tank. It is small, but not uncomfortably so. Feeling confident, I think: “to begin, begin” (this is either Wordsworth or a fortune cookie, I cannot remember which right now), and punctuate that thought by closing the hatch door.

With that, in total darkness, I float. On my back, floating in the tank is easier than any swimming pool I’ve ever visited. I am in no danger of dipping below the water’s surface and coughing up the salty water. I feel instead like driftwood bobbing along a river’s surface. (A terrible metaphor, I know; sorry, Wordsworth.) The water is warm, but not hot-tub warm, just warm enough that it is fairly easy to ignore. 

The hour that follows is mostly meditative. Admittedly, I spend the first bit of my float in my own head: this is a tank, I am inside a tank, am I doing this right? Let go, breathe. Did I feed the dog? Did I answer that email? Tank, back to the tank. Let go. 

And then, suddenly (I have no sense of time in the tank), I let go. Throughout the course of the hour, my meditative concentration is broken a few times, most often as I adjust positions. (Fingers laced and arms folded behind my head is, for me, the most comfortable. A TED Talk on the importance of body language called this a position of power, go figure.) Still, I am able to find a peaceful state of ‘non-thinking’ for entire swaths of time. 

For a first time floater, this type of experience is to be expected, Jesse confirmed. “It is a bit of a practice,” he told me, “the more you do it, the more you get the hang of it, and the benefits seem to sort of compound over time. If you can get in and you [already] know how to relax really quickly, you get more out of your experience.” By the session’s end, I am surprised to hear the soft crescendo of underwater music, signalling my time is up.

Post-Float

Immediately following my float, I still feel, um, float-y. Again, this is normal. “Allow yourself a few moments to re-adjust to the post-float world,” a sign on the wall instructs. I shower, carefully rinsing off the salt, before returning to the lounge for re-hydrating tea. (And indeed, I find myself incredibly thirsty post-float.) For me, the major benefit, aside from meditative enjoyment, was a stronger sleep. On the night following my float, with my muscles and mind relaxed, I sleep better than I have in weeks.

-GHJC

I’ve been waiting. Maybe you’ve been waiting too. Sensory Deprivation tanks, the ultimate way to turn off the world. On Monday Float Toronto opened their doors in West Queen West. I booked my first float for opening day and when I left I felt amazing. I was also full of questions so I sent a them a DM asking if they’d have time to do an interview. They agreed and we set up a time. I wanted to…