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A Little Past - History of Floatation from Glenn Perry

A Little Past

Published by Glenn Perry on January 20, 2013

In the late 1960's, I was a systems computer programmer. At one point, I was in a department with just two other people. If I went down to the cafeteria with one of them, I would talk. But if I went down with both of them, I was too shy, and I would be silent.

In 1972, someone at work recommended John Lilly's"Center of the Cyclone". I was so impressed with it that, a short while later, when I saw an ad for a 5 day workshop he was giving, I immediately signed up.

There were 8 of us and we were each able to use a makeshift tank that was there. That first morning I used it. I came out to a scintillating, vibrant, energy universe. My senses were heightened and my sense of time was distorted. I was in a very unusual altered state. It was fantastic and I felt incredible.

Then after lunch, John asked me to share my experience. I did so and found something even more incredible. I was comfortable. I was actually comfortable talking in front of a group of people. Now, that was significant.

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Kane Mantyla

Just a Regular Float

The warm, moist air rises from the door that is held at arms length. A brief pause to set my intention, "I will let go of all cares and allow myself to simply be." The water reaches to just below my knee as I take my first step into the viscous solution that will become my bed for the next sixty minutes. My washcloth is in reach…check. My earplugs are in snug…check. My list is complete before darkness envelopes me upon closing the door of the Samadhi Classic Floatation Tank. 

Thirty minutes has now passed. "Has it been thirty minutes, I can't tell" I dreamily think to myself. Straining to focus a single thought is quite humorous when compulsive thinking is a way of life. Determined to grasp the sequence of events I note, "Adjusted for about five minutes, breathed for another five. Was itchy for a bit after that and then…?" Unable to conjure up the next event, and too relaxed to care, I settle back into my breath. 

The salty solution peels back from my sides on my in breath as my chest rises ever so slightly out of the water and then creeps back as the air leaves and the weight of  my body pulls me back in. Slowly I rise and fall to the rhythm of my breath. My breathing is all I can hear except for the occasional pulse of blood from my heart pushing past my ears. It reminds me of lying in bed as a child. I could hear the faint marching of people… or so I thought it was the marching of many until it was later revealed to me that I was hearing my own circulation. Now that made a lot more sense. Sense, what an ironic thought in an environment as empty as the space between here and nowhere.

 And now back to the emptiness of the float pod. The kind of emptiness that is the undivided me. Only empty when peering from the outside, as on the inside, it is I that fills the emptiness. I want to let go again, but know it is this very want that keeps me presently here. If I just let go of that want, I will surrender to the state of being that simply is… nothing. Nothing is what it is. Nothing is where I came from and nothing is where I will go. And this is beautiful.

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