Go With the Float: ZenFlo's Sensory Deprivation Tanks and Exploring Your Psyche

In no uncertain terms, Beijing is a veritable war zone for the senses. From fruit hawkers barking into bullhorns to piles of trash choking off narrow hutongs and incessant WeChat alerts demanding attention, it’s an apocalyptic wasteland for anyone in search of serenity. Don’t get me wrong, all of this is what makes the capital so damn charming, but at some point, even the most stoic among us need a break from the onslaught of outside stimuli.

That’s why last Sunday I visited ZenFlo, a small, unassuming business tucked away on Fengfu Hutong not far from the corner of Dengshikou and Wangfujing. ZenFlo provides a service that I’ve long wanted to try but never got around to, and one that is, in effect, the most bullet-proof way of shutting off the brain, or at least opening the door to its more subliminal corners. That is, sensory deprivation tanks!

For those who don’t know, a sensory deprivation tank is basically an enclosed bath – ideally, pitch black and deafeningly silent – with a small amount of water and a shit ton of salt. Like, an absolute shit ton. So much in fact that the human body is rendered weightless and capable of floating effortlessly. On the surface (no pun intended), it can be slightly unnerving, however, there are varying degrees to just how deprived your senses are. For instance, each of the two tanks at ZenFlo is equipped with colored lights that you can turn on or off at your leisure. Likewise, both rooms have speakers so that music can be piped in for any length of time, thus easing you into your experience. Simply put, if the thought of laying in a vat of water in soundless darkness seems like the exact opposite of relaxation, ZenFlo is more than happy to create an environment conducive to your comfort.

So what was the experience like? Admittedly frustrating at the beginning. First and foremost, I was a bit nervous to wholly give myself over to the tank, and thus opted for music during the first half of my float, while also making use of the calming blue light. And yet, while there was something, shall we say, sensational about laying in the float tank, I wasn’t getting as lost in my psyche as I had hoped. Likewise, it seems that the harder you try to shut off your brain, the harder shutting off your brain becomes. On top of that, it’s natural to avoid drowning, so allowing yourself to truly float takes a little getting used to.

At any rate, eager to get from this experience everything I had heard about it, I decided to go full tilt halfway through; I shut off the light, the music ended, and I slipped out of my swim trunks (rest assured, ZenFlo gives their blessing for floating in the nude), effectively harkening as far back to the womb as I possibly could. And it was at this point that something cosmic started to happen.

I went through a litany of delightfully confusing situations: at times not knowing if my eyes were open or closed, an inability to figure out where my body ended and the water began, a distinct sensation that my thoughts were either floating away in a hot air balloon or melting out of my ears before I had the chance to complete them. Needless to say, I was very much within and without myself, a spatial blip that expanded and contracted in turn, with no regard for the outside world. And to be sure, I will forego the music and any lights for the duration of my next 90-minute float.

Perhaps more interesting though has been the days after. See, while floating is a unique experience in and of itself, it’s the side effects, or afterglow, that keep people coming back for more. I felt a supreme sense of relaxation in the days that followed. I am, for all intents and purposes, a relatively negative person who expends far too much energy dwelling on unnecessary stuff (I’m working on it), and by some miracle of the tank, a 90-minute float left me feeling more peaceful than I‘ve been in a long time. Additionally, I was also inexplicably left with a desire to cut back on smoking. I sure as hell didn’t go into the tank hoping that it would curb my addiction, nor was I even cognizant of such a possibility, but it did. And I’m not complaining.

In speaking with ZenFlo’s owner Qing Chen before my float, he likened the experience to an extreme sport played within one’s self, and like any extreme sport, it requires a certain level of training and practice to really excel. To that end, I can imagine that with every session it becomes easier to let go, trust the process, and fully enjoy all of its perks. What’s more, like any “new age” or mindfulness therapy, the jury is still out on the actual scientific benefits, however, early research suggests that floating can help everything from physical pain to depression, anxiety and addiction, insomnia, and myriad other ailments. With that in mind, I intend to start floating once every two weeks or so.

ZenFlo has two locations in the city, one near Dengshikou and another near Chaoyang Park. Different float sessions range from RMB 399 to RMB 649, with various packages priced between RMB 1,199 and RMB 3,699. And if you don’t speak any Chinese it’s not a problem. Chen speaks fluent English and can walk you through the entire process. To find out more about their services, or to book an appointment, add WeChat ID Zenflo.

ZenFlo
Daily, 9am-11pm. 11 Fengfu Hutong, Dongcheng District
东城区丰富胡同11号

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Images courtesy of ZenFlo