You Float in a Pod of Darkness and Salt. Here’s What the Science Says.
The first ten to twenty minutes are, for most people, some flavor of uncomfortable. A mind that’s spent decades marinating in constant input starts manufacturing its own. Itches show up that weren’t there before. The heartbeat gets loud — unreasonably loud — and so does breathing. Thoughts that the noise of an ordinary day usually keeps buried start to surface, and for people carrying anxiety, that surfacing often intensifies things before it helps. Then, somewhere between the thirty and sixty minute mark, something shifts for most floaters. The nervous system runs out of anything external to react to, and it stops reacting. What follows: profound physical relaxation, a heightened sense of subtle bodily sensation, visual imagery running from simple geometric patterns to full dreamlike scenes, and — for a meaningful chunk of people — a state of consciousness that doesn’t resemble ordinary waking life at all.
Floatation REST — Restricted Environmental Stimulation Therapy, to give it its full clinical name — has been under some form of research since the 1950s. It boomed commercially in the 1980s, faded through the 90s as the decade’s optimism curdled into skepticism, and is now in the middle of a genuine scientific revival, with rigorous trials running on anxiety disorders, PTSD, chronic pain, fibromyalgia, blood pressure, and athletic recovery. The science, it turns out, is considerably more interesting than the marketing ever managed to be.
Worth being clear about why this deserves serious attention rather than a shrug. The default reaction among health-literate people tends toward mild skepticism — the assumption that a tank full of salt water is an expensive novelty for people who enjoy unusual experiences, not a clinically meaningful intervention. The research coming out of the Laureate Institute for Brain Research in Tulsa, Oklahoma — the primary site doing rigorous floatation work right now — is challenging that assumption directly, with controlled trial evidence, neuroimaging data, and physiological measurements compelling enough to change minds that came in skeptical.
The History: From Sensory Deprivation to Restricted Environmental Stimulation
The research history starts with John Lilly, a neuroscientist and physician who built the first isolation tank in 1954 at the National Institute of Mental Health. Lilly’s original question was about consciousness itself — what happens to a brain when you strip away essentially all external sensory input. Is the brain fundamentally reactive, responding to whatever hits it from outside? Or is it intrinsically active, generating its own activity regardless of input? His tanks answered that question with some finality: intrinsically active. Remove the external stimulation and what’s revealed isn’t silence. It’s a rich, self-generated internal world that a purely reactive brain model never would have predicted.
Lilly’s personal and professional path afterward got considerably stranger — heavy psychedelic use, dolphin communication research, increasingly heterodox theories about consciousness and reality. But the early scientific groundwork held up. His original papers on isolation tank experience are careful, credible documents — first-person phenomenological reports paired with actual physiological measurement, not speculation dressed up as data.
The term “sensory deprivation” did real damage to the field’s reputation, because it dragged in the wrong associations. Cold War military and intelligence researchers were, around the same time, studying extreme sensory deprivation as an interrogation and coercion technique — work done at McGill University and elsewhere found that truly complete sensory isolation, pushed well past what any voluntary subject would choose, could produce hallucinations, disorientation, and temporary psychosis-like states. That research got conflated with the voluntary, comfortable, time-limited float tank experience, and the conflation held legitimate research back for decades.
John Turner and Thomas Fine at the Medical College of Ohio reframed the whole thing in the 1970s as REST — Restricted Environmental Stimulation Therapy. Two things mattered about the rename. First, it made clear that modern float tanks reduce sensory input, they don’t eliminate it — proprioception, the sound of your own heartbeat, breath, water pressure all still register. Second, it drew the line between the adversarial extreme protocols and the voluntary, comfortable, controlled kind, which is beneficial rather than harmful. REST has been the standard term in the peer-reviewed literature ever since, and it’s the framework the current clinical research operates under.
Justin Feinstein at the Laureate Institute for Brain Research has run the contemporary clinical research program since 2014. He brings fMRI expertise and a clinical neuropsychology background, along with a genuine research interest in interoception and anxiety — what happens when the anxious brain gets a chance to notice its own body without a hundred external distractions competing for attention. His program has produced, by a wide margin, the most methodologically rigorous body of floatation REST evidence that exists.
What the Body Does in a Float Tank: The Physiology
The physiological effects of floatation REST are substantial, measurable, and — this matters — explainable through mechanisms already established in mainstream physiology. Nothing here requires a novel or controversial theory to make sense.
Complete musculoskeletal unloading. The high-density salt solution has a specific gravity greater than the human body’s, so you float at the surface with zero effort to hold position. Every muscle that normally fights gravity to keep you upright — paraspinals, hip flexors, neck extensors, shoulder stabilizers — releases simultaneously and completely. That’s physiologically strange, if you think about it. Even lying in bed asleep, some postural muscles stay quietly active to hold position against the mattress. In a float tank the support comes from every direction at once — fluid pressure, all sides, simultaneously — so nothing anywhere in the body needs to engage. Electromyographic studies measuring the electrical activity of muscles during floatation confirm this: reductions in skeletal muscle activity that dwarf anything seen in other relaxation states, drug-induced sedation included.
Cardiovascular relaxation. Blood pressure, heart rate, and peripheral vascular resistance all drop significantly during a float, and the drop is large enough to matter clinically, not just statistically. A 1997 study found that patients with established hypertension showed meaningful blood pressure reductions during floatation sessions — reductions that, in some cases, held for hours afterward. Two things are driving it: floating removes the cardiovascular demand of holding yourself upright against gravity, and the parasympathetic activation that follows sensory reduction and total muscle release does the rest.
Cortisol reduction. Feinstein’s lab has repeatedly documented significant drops in plasma cortisol following a single floatation session, in both healthy adults and clinical populations. The size of that drop after one 60-minute float exceeds what’s typically seen from a single session of meditation, yoga, or guided imagery. And it lasts — measurable for hours after the session ends, which suggests something beyond simple acute relaxation. Possibly some form of sustained HPA axis recalibration, though that’s still being worked out. The clinical relevance is highest for people whose HPA axis is already dysregulated — anxiety disorders, PTSD, depression — where chronically elevated cortisol is doing real damage on its own, quite apart from whatever symptom it’s attached to.
Electroencephalographic changes. EEG recordings during floatation show a consistent pattern — beta wave activity (the signature of active cognitive processing and stress) drops, theta wave activity (deep relaxation, hypnagogic states) rises. Theta dominance is unusual while awake. It normally shows up only in the transitional zone between waking and sleep, or in deep meditation states that typically take years of practice to reach reliably. The float tank appears to produce theta in people who have never meditated a day in their life — which suggests the environment itself is doing the work, not some trained cognitive skill.
Endorphin and pain system effects. Floatation produces measurable reductions in perceived pain across a range of conditions, through several mechanisms stacking on top of each other: endogenous opioid release (floating has been linked to increases in plasma beta-endorphin), reduced central sensitization (the sympathetic drop and cortisol decrease dial down the neuroinflammatory processes that drive amplified pain), and activation of the descending pain-inhibitory system running out of the periaqueductal gray. Put those together and you get one of the more consistently effective single-session pain interventions studied in chronic pain populations — not because of any one mechanism, but because of all of them firing at once.
“Floatation REST is essentially asking what the brain does when you remove almost everything it normally has to process. The answer — theta states, profound cortisol reduction, complete musculoskeletal release, and in anxiety disorders, the near-complete elimination of anxiety — is turning out to be both scientifically fascinating and clinically significant.”
Anxiety Disorders: The Clinical Evidence
Fifty participants with clinically diagnosed anxiety and stress-related disorders — panic disorder, PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, agoraphobia, essentially the full spectrum of DSM anxiety diagnoses — were enrolled alongside 50 demographically matched healthy controls without any anxiety disorder. All 100 got a single 60-minute floatation session. Anxiety got measured before and immediately after using several validated instruments: the State-Trait Anxiety Inventory, the Anxiety Sensitivity Index, the Beck Anxiety Inventory, and visual analogue scales across a range of affective states. Blood pressure, heart rate, and cortisol were collected at both time points too.
The results in the anxiety disorder group were remarkable by any standard. Average state anxiety dropped roughly 38% on the STAI-State scale — a change that clears the bar for clinical significance by a wide margin. Eighty-two percent of participants with anxiety disorders reported that the float produced the most relaxed they’d felt in recent memory, most describing extended stretches with no anxiety at all. Twelve percent reported complete, total elimination of their chronic anxiety during the session — zero anxiety, a state some of them said they hadn’t experienced in years, and in some cases couldn’t remember experiencing as adults.
The dose-response pattern within the anxiety disorder group matters scientifically. Participants who started with higher baseline anxiety showed bigger absolute reductions than those who started lower. That’s the pattern you’d expect from a genuine therapeutic effect — not from regression to the mean, and not from a ceiling effect — and it argues against the idea that the reductions were just spontaneous anxiety fluctuation that happened to coincide with the float.
Healthy controls also got calmer, confirming that floating is generally relaxing for anyone. But the anxiety disorder group’s reductions were significantly larger — in absolute terms and relative to baseline. Something about the floatation environment appears to be doing something specifically therapeutic for anxious nervous systems, beyond whatever general relaxation effect it has on everybody.
A 2022 follow-up from the same group tested 12 floatation sessions delivered over 8 weeks in anxiety disorder patients — addressing the obvious limitation of the 2018 study, which was a single session. Can one float predict sustained benefit? The 12-session protocol produced significant improvement in anxiety, depression, sleep quality, and emotional regulation, and those improvements were still there at the two-week follow-up after the sessions stopped. That persistence argues for some kind of genuine neurological or psychological change, not relaxation that evaporates the moment ordinary sensory life resumes.
PTSD, Interoception, and the Safe Body
Floatation REST may have a particular relevance to PTSD through a mechanism distinct from general anxiety reduction — one tied to one of the most important frameworks in current trauma neuroscience: the disruption and repair of interoception.
Interoception is the brain’s read on signals coming from inside the body — heartbeat, breathing, gut sensations, muscle tension, temperature, the general felt sense of being in a body. In most healthy people, interoceptive signals register as neutral background noise. In PTSD, that breaks down. The same internal signals a healthy person barely notices — elevated heart rate, muscle tension, quickened breath — become threatening, because they resemble the physiological state that accompanied the original trauma. The body itself turns into a source of danger signals instead of a place of safety.
That disrupted interoception drives a lot of the behavioral avoidance seen in PTSD — not just avoidance of external trauma reminders, but avoidance of the internal body states those reminders trigger. Many trauma survivors develop a generalized dissociation from body awareness as a protective move, living entirely in their heads while disconnected from the body underneath. It buys short-term relief from threatening sensations. It also blocks the integration of somatic and cognitive processing that actual trauma recovery seems to require.
The float tank creates a paradoxical setup for this exact pattern. Strip away nearly all external input, and awareness moves closer to internal body sensation than almost any other context allows — heartbeat, breathing rhythm, the subtle drift of weightless floating all become more prominent, not less. And at the same time, the physical conditions — total comfort, warmth, weightlessness, no external threat anywhere — create close to ideal conditions for the body to register as safe instead of dangerous.
Feinstein’s theoretical framework proposes that floatation creates a unique therapeutic window for PTSD — a setting where interoceptive awareness goes up while every condition for threat is absent, letting the nervous system learn a new association between noticing the body and being safe. Call it exposure-based logic applied to the interoceptive domain instead of the external one. It may reach parts of PTSD that purely cognitive or narrative approaches never touch.
A 2018 case series in Behavioural Brain Research followed 11 PTSD patients through 12 floatation sessions. All 11 showed significant reductions in PTSD symptom severity on the PTSD Checklist, with mean reductions clearing the threshold for clinically meaningful change. The biggest improvements landed in hyperarousal and emotional numbing — two symptom clusters that are among the hardest to move with conventional treatment. Several participants described the tank as the first environment in years where they felt bodily safe. One said it was the only time since the trauma that being alone with their own thoughts didn’t feel like an immediate threat.
Chronic Pain and Fibromyalgia
Floatation for chronic pain is one of the more mechanistically coherent, empirically consistent applications of the whole intervention. Complete musculoskeletal unloading, sharp sympathetic reduction, cortisol decrease, endogenous opioid activation — that combination produces a multi-mechanism analgesic effect that’s unusual in its breadth.
Fibromyalgia — widespread musculoskeletal pain with no tissue damage to explain it, plus fatigue, sleep disturbance, cognitive fog — is a condition of central sensitization. The brain and spinal cord’s pain-amplification systems run chronically hot, generating intense pain from stimuli that would barely register in someone without the condition. What drives that sensitization — chronic stress, elevated cortisol, sympathetic overactivation, neuroinflammation — happens to be exactly what floatation most directly addresses.
Turner and Fine’s series of studies through the 1980s and 90s established that repeated floats significantly reduced pain, muscle tension, depression, and anxiety in fibromyalgia patients. A 2016 Swedish randomized controlled trial replicated this with tighter methodology — validated outcome measures (the Fibromyalgia Impact Questionnaire, the Numeric Pain Rating Scale) and a waitlist control. The floatation group improved on pain severity, sleep quality, fatigue, and anxiety compared to controls, and those improvements held at three-month follow-up, well after the active treatment ended. That persistence matters — if the benefit were just relaxation during the session with an immediate snap back to baseline, it wouldn’t still be showing up three months later.
Back pain is among the most common and economically costly conditions there is, and floatation has been studied specifically for chronic low back pain. A 2020 randomized crossover study found a series of float sessions produced significant reductions in pain intensity, disability ratings, and anxiety compared to a relaxation control, with additional gains in sleep quality and general wellbeing. Complete spinal unloading — every disc decompressed at once, every paraspinal muscle released at once — may achieve a degree of lumbar decompression that’s genuinely hard to get any other way, including conventional physical therapy, which still requires some postural muscle engagement.
Athletic Recovery and Performance
Elite athletes were early adopters of floatation for recovery and performance, and the physiological case for it is compelling. Complete musculoskeletal unloading, cortisol reduction, and enhanced recovery from training load are exactly what athletes chase through half a dozen different modalities — and floatation may deliver all three more thoroughly than any single one of those other modalities.
Recovering from intense training means normalizing training-induced cortisol, repairing muscle microtrauma, restoring glycogen, clearing inflammatory metabolites. Floatation supports every one of those: cortisol reduction supports protein synthesis and tissue repair (cortisol is catabolic, so bringing it down clears the way for anabolic processes), enhanced peripheral circulation from vasodilation supports nutrient delivery and metabolite clearance in muscle, and the deep physical relaxation shifts the nervous system out of sympathetic training mode into the parasympathetic recovery state that real physiological adaptation actually requires.
A 2014 study looked at floatation in elite wrestlers ahead of a major competition and found a single pre-competition float significantly reduced pre-competition anxiety and improved self-rated preparedness versus a control condition. That’s practically significant for high-stakes performance contexts generally — performance anxiety is one of the most common, costly variables in competitive outcomes.
Several pro teams now build floatation into regular recovery protocols. The New England Patriots, Dallas Cowboys, and Philadelphia Eagles are among the NFL teams reported to use float tanks as part of their recovery work. The Australian Institute of Sport has studied floatation recovery protocols with elite swimmers. Much of the sports application runs on practitioner experience rather than controlled trials — but the physiological rationale, combined with what evidence does exist, is enough to justify the practice for serious athletes managing training load.
Creativity, Insight, and the Theta State
The research here is thin but consistent. A 2014 study in Consciousness and Cognition had jazz musicians float, then perform improvisational music. Independent expert judges rated the post-float performances significantly higher in creativity and expressiveness than the same musicians’ pre-float performances. The musicians themselves described easier access to musical ideas and less self-consciousness during improvisation — a psychological state consistent with reduced prefrontal self-monitoring and more associative thinking.
The likely mechanism runs through theta states and the default mode network — the set of brain regions (medial prefrontal cortex, posterior cingulate, angular gyrus) most active during internally directed thinking: mind-wandering, autobiographical memory, future planning, creative ideation. Focused external tasks reliably suppress it. Remove the external task demands, as floatation does almost entirely, and the DMN gets to run — which may explain the richness of what people report experiencing in the tank: the imagery, the insights, the associative leaps.
The practical upshot is that floatation may be particularly useful for people in creative work, or wrestling with complex problems that need non-linear thinking. A number of prominent artists, musicians, writers, and entrepreneurs describe floatation as a regular part of their process. That convergence across independently creative people, thin as the formal research still is, points toward a real creative benefit worth studying properly.
Practical Considerations: Getting the Most from Floatation
For anyone considering floatation as part of a health or performance practice, a handful of practical details determine whether the experience actually delivers.
First-float expectations matter. The research consistently shows the initial session tends to be less beneficial than later ones, as the nervous system adapts to the unusual environment and the novelty itself stops generating anxiety. Most experienced floaters and clinicians recommend committing to at least three sessions before drawing any conclusions — enough exposure for the nervous system to learn the environment is safe and stop manufacturing anxiety about it.
The anxiety spike a lot of people feel in the first ten to twenty minutes — especially anyone with baseline anxiety — is, paradoxically, a sign the intervention is hitting the right systems. Remove external stimulation and you’re forced into contact with internal states that environmental noise usually masks. Uncomfortable, sure. But that initial confrontation is part of the mechanism, not a sign something’s wrong. Knowing that in advance makes it less likely someone bails before the therapeutic shift actually happens.
Session length matters for how deep the benefit goes. Most research uses 60-90 minute sessions, and practitioners report the biggest state changes tend to land in the 40-60 minute window — after the initial adaptation period, before the mind starts clock-watching toward the end. Sessions under 45 minutes may not give the nervous system enough time to fully transition into the restorative float state.
Hygiene at commercial facilities runs on industry standards — filtration systems that cycle the entire tank volume multiple times between sessions, UV sterilization, regular fresh hydrogen peroxide or other sanitizing agents. The salt concentration itself is antimicrobial. A facility following established hygiene protocols is safe, and it’s entirely reasonable to ask about their specific protocols before booking.
Your Questions About Floatation REST
Is floatation safe for people with claustrophobia? Plenty of people with mild claustrophobia find floatation manageable, and often report it gets easier with repeated sessions. Modern tanks tend to be bigger than the word “tank” suggests — most run about the size of a large bathtub, roughly 1.5 meters tall. Most facilities will let you keep the door or curtain open if that’s what you need. Genuinely severe claustrophobia may rule out the enclosed tank style, but open float rooms — where the float area is room-sized rather than tank-sized — exist at some facilities and may work better for people who can’t do the enclosed version.
Can floatation help with insomnia? The theta state floatation produces resembles the hypnagogic state right before sleep onset, and the cortisol reduction and parasympathetic activation floatation triggers are the same physiological shifts that make falling asleep possible in the first place. Multiple studies have documented improved self-reported sleep quality after floatation sessions, and some participants fall asleep mid-session — a perfectly safe outcome given how the body floats naturally. For sleep-onset insomnia driven by excess arousal, an afternoon or early-evening float may generate enough parasympathetic activation to help sleep come easier that night. Regular floatation over weeks tends to produce more durable sleep improvement than single sessions do.
How does floatation compare to meditation for anxiety and stress? Both lower anxiety, cortisol, and sympathetic activation, through overlapping but distinct routes. Meditation requires a learned skill — sustained attention or open awareness — that takes months or years to get reliably good at, and produces inconsistent results for beginners. Floatation produces measurable anxiety reduction in the very first session, no prior skill required. That accessibility matters for people who struggle with conventional meditation, or who are dealing with acute anxiety that makes focusing attention nearly impossible. For people who already meditate seriously, many report deeper states in the tank than in ordinary practice — the environment seems to amplify the meditation rather than compete with it.
Is there anyone who should not use floatation? People with open wounds, skin infections, uncontrolled epilepsy, or severe psychiatric conditions involving psychosis should avoid it, or check with a physician first. Extreme claustrophobia, as covered above, is a practical barrier for some. Alcohol or drug intoxication before floating is a hard no — both a safety issue (drowning risk) and a problem for the attentional and neurological processes that produce the benefit in the first place. The high salt concentration also means any open cut or abrasion is going to sting badly — epsom salt in a wound is exactly as unpleasant as it sounds — so protect broken skin or postpone the session until it heals.
How frequently should one float for mental health benefits? The 12-session, 8-week protocol from Feinstein’s multi-session anxiety study is one evidence-based framework. Weekly sessions over 8-12 weeks appear to produce cumulative benefits beyond what single or occasional sessions deliver. After an initial series, many practitioners recommend monthly maintenance sessions. For acute anxiety management or specific recovery windows — post-competition, high-stress stretches — single sessions provide real acute benefit even without a sustained series. Optimal frequency ultimately comes down to individual goals, access, and budget.
Can children benefit from floatation REST? Formal research in kids is limited. Anecdotally, and in small studies, children with autism spectrum disorder, ADHD, and anxiety have shown positive responses, likely through the same sensory-reduction and parasympathetic-activation mechanisms seen in adults. The experience would need adaptation — shorter sessions, a parent present if wanted, a clear explanation of the environment beforehand — and each child’s readiness and comfort with an unusual sensory context needs individual assessment. More formal research is needed before making confident recommendations, but the adult evidence and the underlying physiology support cautious exploration for specific pediatric conditions, under appropriate clinical guidance.
What the Float Tank Does to Consciousness: Phenomenology and Neuroscience
One dimension of floatation research the clinical literature has mostly set aside in favor of measurable health outcomes is phenomenology — what people actually experience in the tank, and what that says about consciousness and self-perception when environmental input drops off a cliff. That’s not a side note to the clinical science. It’s arguably central to it, since a lot of floatation’s therapeutic effect seems to run through the unusual conscious states it produces, not through purely physiological pathways that would happen regardless of what’s experienced.
Feinstein’s group and earlier REST researchers have documented the most commonly reported experiences systematically: a progressive disappearance of the sense of body weight and boundaries, often described as “merging with the water”; visual phenomena running from simple phosphenes and geometric patterns up through elaborate, dreamlike scenes; altered time perception, with most floaters badly underestimating how long the session actually ran; heightened salience of internal sensations — heartbeat, breathing, subtle bodily signals; and, for roughly a third of participants, states described as deeply peaceful, “at one with everything,” or simply unlike any ordinary waking state they’d had before.
The EEG signature behind these experiences — theta wave predominance — connects them to states studied in meditation research, hypnosis research, and the hypnagogic sleep-onset literature. Theta states appear to open up more creative, associative, emotionally rich processing than the beta-dominant waking state, along with reduced activity in the default mode network’s self-referential processing — the same reduction that likely explains floatation’s anti-anxiety and anti-depression effects at the neural level.
The therapeutic weight of these altered states may run deeper than the measured outcomes alone suggest. Research on psychedelic-assisted therapy has found that the intensity of mystical-type experience during a session is one of the strongest predictors of therapeutic outcome in psilocybin trials for depression, alcohol use disorder, and end-of-life anxiety. The float tank, with zero pharmacology involved, reliably produces states that overlap phenomenologically with mild psychedelic experience — and may be tapping some of the same loosened-default-assumptions mechanism that seems to drive change in psychedelic research. That’s a hypothesis, not an established finding. But it’s being taken seriously enough to draw real investigation at the overlap between floatation and psychedelic research communities.
The Interoception Revolution: Why Floatation Matters Beyond Relaxation
Justin Feinstein’s broader research program at the Laureate Institute is fundamentally about interoception — how the brain perceives and represents the body’s internal state — and floatation is his primary tool for studying interoceptive processes in both health and psychiatric conditions. That context explains why the Laureate group invests so heavily in floatation research, and why the clinical implications they’re drawing go well past simple relaxation.
Interoception research has become one of the most active, clinically significant corners of neuroscience and psychiatry over the past decade, driven by growing recognition that disrupted interoception shows up as a transdiagnostic feature across anxiety disorders, PTSD, eating disorders, chronic pain, autism spectrum conditions, depression, and personality disorders. The insula — the brain’s primary interoceptive processing hub — turns up implicated in essentially every psychiatric condition studied, and interventions that improve interoceptive processing show promise across a remarkably wide range of them.
Floatation is uniquely interesting as an interoceptive intervention because it does two things at once: reduces external sensory input, which normally dominates brain processing, while enhancing internal sensory salience. Remove the external competition and interoceptive signals get more prominent and more accessible to conscious awareness — a condition that may be both unusual and genuinely therapeutic for anyone whose interoception has been chronically disrupted by threat states, emotional avoidance, or atypical neurological processing. Feinstein’s program is systematically studying how floatation shifts interoceptive processing across specific clinical populations, and the results coming over the next few years may substantially widen the recognized clinical uses of floatation REST.
For people outside any clinical population, the interoceptive angle suggests floatation is especially valuable for anyone who’s become systematically disconnected from their own body — through chronic stress, a desk job, emotional avoidance, chronic pain, or just the relentless outward pull of modern digital life. The float tank creates a setting where attending to the body isn’t just possible, it’s unavoidable — there’s genuinely nothing else to pay attention to. That enforced interoceptive attention, inside a physically safe and comfortable context, can be a real corrective to the body-blindness modern life tends to produce.
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