I had my first float at Float in the Forest on a Friday.
It had been a difficult month, filled with work and stress; yet, though I had slept well the night before, I still felt a fatigue that went beyond mere tiredness.
It was a weariness that reached deep into my bones, a chill that settled in my very core. I had hoped one night of rest would make me feel better, but instead, I realised how profoundly drained I was.
From the moment I arrived, I felt encouraged to take this experience into my own hands. Unlike a massage or a spa retreat, where relaxation is guided by another, the float was a self-led journey. That autonomy made the experience more intimate, more profound, and somehow more special.
Even the pre-float shower felt luxurious, almost like a spa ritual in itself. I requested the lights be set to pink— something about that colour makes my skin glow, erasing any visible wear of the day.
Bathed in its soft hue, I felt ethereal, like a goddess or perhaps a fairy. That sense of confidence and tranquillity followed me into the pod.
As I began my float, I allowed myself to explore. I stretched my fingers and toes, reaching as far and wide as I could.
I let my body drift, gently pushing myself off the sides, imagining I was floating in space, pushing away from a station and reaching towards the endless unknown. There was a childlike wonder in these movements, a playful curiosity I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Then the music faded, and I let myself be still. In the silence, I felt my body truly settle. It was as if my organs, my joints, my muscles— tired from days spent standing and moving drifted back to where they naturally belonged.
The sense of alignment, of physical and mental release, was indescribable.
I dared myself to think of my stressors. I wanted to challenge myself and see if this experience could hold space for the thoughts that had plagued me for weeks.
But as each worry surfaced, the vastness of the pod seemed to render them insignificant, monotone, almost distant. They lost their weight, their sharp edges dulled.
I had expected to battle with them, but instead, they simply floated away, leaving me lighter.
Deeper and deeper, I relaxed until I reached a dreamlike state. I loved every second.
When my session ended, I realised the experience had only just begun. The relaxation followed me out of the pod, into the lounge as I sipped my tea, into my car as I drove home, and finally into my own space.
The calm lingered, a quiet presence that softened the edges of my evening. It wasn’t just a mental shift— my resting heart rate, which had been rising all week, had actually, now finally lowered!
My body, just like my mind, had found relief.
That float was more than just an hour of rest; it was a recalibration, a return to myself.
I can’t wait to experience it again.
