In an effort to expand his horizons, reporter
Wyatt Ryder is sampling the weirdest that Dunedin has to offer. This time he takes an hour to explore the secrets of the universe in a pod of peace, quiet and salt water.
Or do I?
There I go again — thinking.
Thoughts — they come hard and fast and in all colours. The dark, the light, the inane. See above for a solid example.
Unpleasant, stressful ideas jump out of nowhere sometimes. It is easy to obsess over the tiniest thing.
Is my friend upset with me? Was that news story any good? Am I balding? I’m probably balding.
It kind of sucks. But the worst part is that it plays into my chronic on-again off-again insomnia.
I’ve done a little bit of cognitive behavioural therapy, tried out some exercises, done all the things you’re meant to do.
But the most successful remedy I’ve found is doing nothing.
Not "watching TV and eating junk all day" doing nothing. Actually sitting down and doing nothing.
Some would call it meditation, but people find the idea of it pretentious and mystical.
Time out helps. It helps, but it is not magic. There has to be a better way to clear thoughts and achieve inner peace.
How could you do nothing better?
The solution came in the shape of a pod.
FloatFix is a Dunedin business offering floatation therapy, which according to the website helps with a wide range of issues, from "musculoskeletal awareness" to "brain synchronisation".
FloatFix representative Emma Collard introduced the vessel, named the "dream pod" due to its pretty lights. Twinkling they were.
The business gets a lot of regular customers who come for very specific reasons.
Some come at night to relax before bed. One businessman always booked a session when he had a business deal to think about. Apparently it is great for relieving pressure for pregnant women too.
I am neither a businessman nor am I pregnant — I hope. But I do like to relax before bed.
After a quick rinse it was time to climb in and pull the roof closed.
Floating does not feel natural. How do you deliberately relax?
Were my legs in the right position? Should I use the optional head floaty? What about the ear plugs?
It took about 10 minutes for me to realise none of this mattered. I tossed all the accessories out the pod and decided to just float, no matter how weird it felt.
Floating in the dark, warm pod felt like a different type of nothing compared with meditation.
Many thoughts ran through my brain, but I never felt like I needed to explore them.
Emma told me people often fell asleep in the tank without trying because they were so relaxed, but my experience felt the opposite.
My body was definitely relaxed, but my mind was hyper-aware of everything.
The combination of this meditative state and this awareness gave me space to efficiently process thoughts and disregard them, a welcome alternative to obsessing over every little thing.
I thought about my weekend plans. I thought about how great House of the Dragon was. Anything and everything that came to mind.
Sound was my main distraction. Every noise came through piercingly clear.
At times there was a strange circular rhythm, like a washing machine. I clicked my fingers. They rung like marbles colliding.
It was enjoyable, but I was starting to get a little worried that my newfound peace of mind would not lead to any profound introspection or epiphany.
Then it came, a sole question fluttering through my head.
Are my parents proud of me?
Finally, a deep thought. I was prepared to delve into my psyche and explore it. Time for some revelations.
Yeah, probably.
What? Was that it? Surely my brain could do better than that.
But that was it.
I couldn’t explore it any further because it simply did not make sense to. The answer was frankly a little disappointing.
Soon there were no more things to think about. Was this what it was like to be in the womb, to just exist with nothing to think about?
Then the native birds chimed in, signalling the end.
Pretty sure the womb contained no native birds — my peaceful thinking space vanished.
Soon the pump started and announced me as an unwanted guest. I took the hint and got out.
My spaceship-like device smoothly opened up. I rinsed the sodium off my body and ran three shampoo and conditioner cycles through my hair, which had become stiff like straw.
The walk out was awkward. My bones felt like they were in the wrong place. I was an alien trying to mimic what humans looked like while walking.
Emma sat at the counter, looking naturally prepared for my flustered statement of "that was weird".
We chatted for a bit, then I walked out into the sun.
My body felt great. Stiff and awkward pains were absent. My back was straight and and I smiled on the walk back to work.
The elevator up dinged at the third floor and I sat down at my desk. Phones rang. Keyboards clicked. A disgruntled reporter swore.
I sighed and started to think about work again.
