Discomfortable Getting Discomfortable with Sensory Deprivation
This episode explores some of my experiments with sensory deprivation. While I was in Bali in December, I encouraged my brother to find some “hippie shit” we could do in the notorious hub of new age spirituality that is Ubud. He suggested we try a sound bath at the Pyramids of Chi. Instead of the traditional “ancient sound healing”, we chose the “Acoustic Bioresonance” sound bath because it sounded more intense and interesting, and it certainly delivered. We had a surprisingly psychedelic and yet relaxing experience, not on the level with my Ayahuasca trip, but pretty impressive for being stone cold sober. Here’s a video where our sound healer, Laurent, explains the process he invented in more detail:
As a follow-up, I spoke to my brother recently and he said the sound bath we did in Bali not only made him feel more relaxed than he had felt in months, but that he still feels calmer even now, a month later. That’s what I call a ringing endorsement (pun intended).
The sound bath reminded me of the few times I tried “floating” in a sensory deprivation tank back in Toronto. Floating is fascinating* in a completely different way, however. It’s not an intense experience so much as a non-experience. With my body suspended in lukewarm salt water and a clear mind, it actually felt like I didn’t exist at all — which it turns out is a pretty great vacation from life! It reminded me of this passage from the short story Manhole 69 by J. G. Ballard, about a group of test subjects who can’t sleep:
“Continual consciousness is more than the brain can stand. Any signal repeated often enough eventually loses its meaning. Try saying the word sleep fifty times. After a point the brain’s selfawareness dulls. It’s no longer able to grasp who or why it is, and it rides adrift.”
Lastly, this episode explores a recent trip I took to The Dark Table in Vancouver, a restaurant that serves dinner in utter darkness. With a staff of blind servers, it’s a disorienting dining experience like no other. I can’t say that I “enjoyed” it per se, but it was worth it for the sheer discomfort and angst it brought out in me, much to my own surprise. I learned a lot about the way my senses construct reality, the way fear and shame operate when I feel vulnerable, and the fact that I can’t tell the difference between the taste of squash and eggplant, apparently. In the end, I learned to relax and the experience definitely made me more grateful for my sight.
*Bonus drinking game: take a shot every time I say a variation on the words “all-consuming” and “fascinating” in this episode.