It would seem that the more connected we are in our lives, the greater the need is for detaching (on an occasional basis). This is not a desperate need, but a valuable tool in learning how to recharge one’s batteries.
I have been disconnecting form all online interaction…for a day at a time. I do this whenever it is thrust upon me (e.g. a power outage, etc.), and I do this on my own every couple months or so. The first time I did this I became quite frantic, and this sort of disconnectedness can be painful…at first. Upon succeeding experiments with this I have found that disconnecting becomes less and less of an intrusion into the tenor of my life…I actually find it relaxing now.
In some similar ways, I have (over the years) done things like take a day (or even a weekend) to do things like: not speak (at all!), to fast, to keep from reading, or any other means of ‘cleaning house’. In most cases, this detachment exercises are worthwhile (to various degrees).
Sensory deprivation tanks are a level in this continuum of disconnectedness which I haven’t gone to…yet. But the idea has always intrigued me. I suppose I should preface this by stating that I am mostly interested in the physical and emotional aspect of an experience like this…versus the metaphysical and ‘parapsychological’ aspects of this sort of experience. I should also mention that I seem to have never taken the time to delve into this sort of experience…mostly because of all of the ‘new age’ trappings this Sensory Deprivation Tanks seem to elicit…
Consequently, I found this article interesting and a bit amusing…maybe there is a tank in my near future…
Sensory Deprivation Tank
http://beamsandstruts.com/articles/item/396-sensory-deprivation-tank
For those who don’t know, a sensory deprivation tank is a chamber half-filled with a mix of water and Epsom salt (a lot of Epsom salt). Inside the chamber it’s completely black and essentially sound proof. So when you lie down in the tank you float effortlessly, and can’t see or hear a thing from the outside. The water is heated to 93.5 degrees, the temperature of the human body, so you can’t really feel the water unless you slosh around. The combined effect is a sensory deprived, suspended limbo.
The chamber was completely black. Lying back in water I was happy for the recommendations from my girlfriend not to shave before I came. The water was very salty and even without any knicks or cuts from a razor other orifices burned upon entry. That sensation passed and I was surprised by how easily my head rested in the water while my body floated; only partly submerged. It was a bit like a waterbed – without the cover. The disturbed water gradually stopped rippling around me until all that remained was the darkness and my breath.
I closed my eyes and began meditating as I normally would. I remained still, relaxed, and paid attention to my experience. After several minutes the thought struck me to open my eyes. To my surprise, nothing in my experience changed. I felt my eyelids opening, but there was nothing to see. They opened into the same blackness they were closed behind only moments before. This was an interesting experience and it made me feel as though I was looking out into endless space. Having absolutely no visual reference to where I was I couldn’t help contemplate the true vastness of the universe all around me. Normally the vastness is constrained by the walls around us, or the horizon line in the distance, but not in the darkness. Here it remains limitless and yours to consider.
