Front Porch: My Sensory Deprivation Tank Experiment

If you follow this blog, you know I host the Front Porch series where I write about everyday stories, just stories that folks talk about on front porches, back yards, or in break rooms in snippets during the day.

I recently read a book, sent to me by a dear friend, called “Surely you’re joking, Mr. Feynman.” This book is a collection of short stories as told by Dr. Richard P. Feynman, the Nobel Prize winner in Physics in 1965. Wow, was this guy a character, and also a brilliant man having been involved in activities such as the birth of quantum mechanics, bongo playing, juggling, safe cracking, and drawing/art, in addition to being a professor at Caltech (California Institute of Technology).

One chapter in this book is titled “Altered States”—this chapter juggled loose a crypt in my brain that I had nearly forgotten about—my sensory deprivation tank experiment.

Please climb on the Front Porch with ME today while I tell you the story.

During my training to become a Holistic Health Practitioner (an HHP is basically a massage therapist with additional training in stress reduction, Eastern philosophies, holistic nutrition, and energetics), the gentleman teaching one of my classes in energy work closed a class by welcoming anyone who wanted speak with him after class about topics he’d covered.

I was intrigued by this man and decided to take him up on his offer, but was even more surprised when, from our class of fifteen people, I was the only one who stayed behind to talk.

During our discussion about energy work, I started asking questions about some of his philosophies around energetics and he said that he had seen visions from time spent in sweat lodges as well as using other situations to, “get out of his body and see his self in a different way.”

Then he said, “I actually have my own sensory deprivation tank, you’re more than welcome to coordinate a time to come over to try it out, if you want. Just give me a call.”

We talked a bit longer, I thanked him for the intriguing class and for sharing his knowledge, and that I’d be in touch. I walked out of class with his digits in hand, thinking that would be the end of that.

The following week, I thought to my self, When will you ever get the chance to try that out, don’t be a chicken, just call the guy!

The following Thursday, I found myself walking up the cement stairs to his home,

…which turned out to be quite a spread. He’s since moved, but he lived in a gorgeous coastal home north of San Diego. The cement stairs led to the front door, which featured a stained glass menagerie of dolphins jumping in the ocean, inset into the landing in front of the door was a spiral pattern of rainbow-colored bricks.

I became nervous. What the heck was I thinking? I barely know this guy other than from school. But, he had to be legit, he was an instructor at a fully accredited school, I had to quit being such a chicken.

He greeted me at the door. He had a soft smile and a warm glow about him—he was one of those people who was obviously comfortable in his skin.

He welcomed me, thanked me for taking him up on his offer, and then got right to it. He showed me to the room where he kept the tank and explained what would happen. He’d leave the room, I’d undress, get in the tank, and then he’d come in and seal it. An hour later he would come back to alert me by knocking on the roof, he’d leave the room again, and I’d exit the tank, put on the robe he would leave next to the tank, then I could use his shower to rinse off and we could have coffee afterward if I’d like to talk about the experience.

About the Sensory Deprivation Tank

It looked like a human-sized, solid eye-glass case, the kind that is spring-hinged and the color of slate. It completely shuts out all noise and light. Inside the cocoon rests super-saturated water, saturated with sea salts (some people use Epsom salts) so that the body is buoyant and is also at the same temperature as the body. The point is to introduce no sensory input and to maintain complete sensory deprivation allowing the mind to work independently of the body.

What Happened Once I was in the Tank

It took a few minutes to accommodate to the feeling of complete newness, a completely different experience than I had experienced prior to this time. I had been in the ocean a lot, so knew the feeling of buoyancy and density from salt water, but a lot of auditory and visual sensory input while I was in the ocean were present, too.

I can’t say I had ever been in a situation where there was NO sensory input coming into my body. That was borderline shocking. But once I relaxed and stopped the internal catastrophist from talking, “Oh geez, woman, what are you doing? You’re in a dude’s home, locked in a human-sized coffin, with no sensory input, you knucklehead!!” I had to trust what was happening, have faith, and enjoy the experience.

So I Did

Once I calmed down, the first thing I noticed was peace, this wonderful peaceful feeling flowing over me.

An amazing light show started. I started seeing all kinds of colored streaks of lights, not like a laser-light show, but more like colored jellyfish tentacles flowing thorugh my field of vision. It was gorgeous.

The mind is a very active entity, and if there is no stimulation coming in, it fills the void. I saw this first hand. Absolutely.

Then I started having some auditory sensations, I wouldn’t call it music, but it was kind of like that. Kind of like a stream of harps or strings humming in the background. It was quite pleasant.

Throughout the remainder of my time in the tank, I knew I was not sleeping, but I was in a dream-like state. I was seeing images, akin to a dream, a sort of video tape or movie, but I was aware that I was not sleeping. It is difficult to describe. Feyman talks about his experiences in a sensory deprivation tank in the chapter I mentioned at the beginning of this post—his account is very similar to what I experienced.

Before I knew it, I heard a knock on the surface, I knew it was time to go. I slowly opened the case and it was like a rush of stimulation filled my body. In a way I was very sad it was over, but mostly couldn’t believe how fast an hour flew by.

It literally seemed like ten minutes or so.

There are other instances described in literature where hallucinations are described while in a sensory deprivation tank.

In fact, the physician, psychoanalyst, and philosopher John Lilly became well known for his work with sensory deprivation tanks in the ’60s (I wrote a report about him in Freshman English while I was in college, interestingly enough). He ended up taking things a bit too far, loosing credibility, when he started priming the experience with psychedelic drugs.

(The 1973 movie The Day of the Dolphin, was also inspired by John Lilly’s character—Lilly believed inter-species communication is possible.)

In Closing

Would I try this again? Heck yeah! What a feeling! I’m really glad I took the opportunity to have the experience.

After I climbed out of the tank, donned the robe, made my way to wash the salt out of my hair and off my body, and got dressed, I had a warm cuppa joe with my host. He was just a nice guy wanting to offer an hour of peace to a fellow member of humanity. We had an interesting conversation and then he bid me farewell.

Thanks for reading about my story. Now, think about how many experiences you’ve had that you could write about. Entire books have been written about only a 24-hour time frame or even a week.

Do you have a story in you? I guarantee you do. Please email me about a story and let’s share our humanity. Steep me in your greatness!

Create your day!
[Photo by Roblisameehan]
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Previous Front Porch Posts:
Front Porch: The Series
Front Porch: Not A Typical Day In The Park (With Tim Piotrowski)
Front Porch: Pearl’s Wisdom (A conversation with Lori’s first pet)
Front Porch: An F22 Jet and a Costa Rican Chica (With Lisis Blackston)
Front Porch: George and the Power of the Human Spirit (With George Angus)
Front Porch: Of Bands, Explosions, and Cattle Auctions—Laughter (With Jay Schryer)
Front Porch: Brave, Bold Tess (With Tess Marshall)
Front Porch: Cardboard Sleds, Machu Picchu, and Sami May
Front Porch: Only in Lance World (with Lance Ekum)
Front Porch: Life Though Mia’s Eyes with (Mia Platt)

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