The Silence is Deafening
Yesterday was my quarterly visit to the sensory deprivation chamber. I always look forward to these days, as my time spent in this little metal coffin is some of the most relaxing and refreshing times I get. 10 inches of water, 1,000 pounds of salt, 96-degree water, no light, no sound, 90 minutes of nothing.
The inside of my little chamber of nothingness
These floats can make for a very profound experience. Yesterday was profound, indeed, but not for the right reasons. I stepped into that tank feeling quite heavy, with so many weighty things on my mind. For a while, I entered my desired zone of nothingness. Then, suddenly and for unknown reasons, the heaviness hit me like a runaway truck. There I was, lying in this pod, with absolutely nothing to distract me from my own mind. It was pitch black and completely silent, but in that moment, it felt bright, and the silence was deafening. I don't know how long I experienced this, but it was some of the loudest moments I've had in quite some time.
I ultimately had to get out of the tank early. The weird part of this type of experience is you don't know if you've been in the tank for 90 seconds or 90 minutes. After getting out, I discovered I still had 20 minutes left. I spent that time sitting on a little chair in the chamber room, trying to gather my composure from the week I just experienced.
The point of this post isn't to throw myself a pity party or to spin up guesses as to why I was such a mess today. Rather, it's to expound on the rarity of silence and nothingness. In a modern world full of stimulation and distractions, we rarely have an intimate moment with our thoughts. I crave those moments, even if it's uncomfortable. I need those moments, even if it's easier to avoid them. Though the process can be complicated, there's something special and powerful about gaining clarity. I felt quite overwhelmed in those moments, but left feeling marginally recharged and confidently tasked with my next steps. I'll call that a messy win! I encourage you to find your time of nothingness as much as possible, even if you have to lay in a little metal coffin.
*As I re-read my post above, I don't necessarily see how this connects with Meaning Over Money. However, I felt a strong nudge to post this today. So I'm going to trust that nudge and hope it falls into the right hands.