River life

Somehow the clouds floating above the river seemed different, high up and fluffy - the way a kid draws clouds. The soft winter breeze gently ruffled my hair as Greg and I strolled leisurely beside the Noosa River with our family friend, Billy, visiting from Calfornia.  

Staring out over the iridescent blue water, the ripples bounced crystal rainbows onto my face. I smiled warmly at the peach glow of Jetty 17 and the helpful face of the owner Matt.  Suddenly California dreaming became a reality when our quiet walk turned into a party barge for 12.   A spontaneous decision to rent a BBQ pontoon for a few days of river cruising was exactly my kind of Dumb Blonde Adventure.

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus said that, 

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.”

Did that mean that everything around me was always changing including me? Could it be true that absolutely nothing ever stays the same? This was a lot to be grappling with as we cast off from the jetty and headed up the river.

I guess if you have to think about change there is no better place than on board a boat. Lulled into quiet contemplation by the whispering stands of eucalyptus on either side of the river bank, I pondered the difficulties in quantifying change over the long term.  Perhaps it is best measured by the slow shadow of time passing over a much-loved face. 


During a lifetime of friendship, my two skippers have been a barometer for each other.  While the world around their connection changed, their bond to each other and their mutual enjoyment of the water remained the same.  "There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." The Wind in the Willows.  

Bahamas

Whitsunday's

Regardless of what kind of vessel they are floating in, the same old sailing stories surface along with the shonky boats they've owned together over the years.  Their dodgy yacht deliveries across the high seas hailed back to a time when handheld sextants got you from A to B and GPS was code for "Got plenty snacks." 

Their story of seasickness off Morro Bay, California resurfaces as often as their descriptions of the tinned Dinty Moore Beef Stew vomit.  While the boats have definitely changed for the better, the seafaring memories remain constant in their minds.  Luckily for me, the quality of provisions on board has also improved drastically, these days the boys are tucking into Wagu steaks.

Heading upstream towards Makepeace Island, I realized that the river embodied the secrets of life. It bubbles up from the source with a spirit of divine discontent and a never ending momentum downstream.  In infancy the water is but a small creek, then, like a person, the river grows in size and deepens.  Like life, the river's rapids swirl and bring the twists and turns of change.  The river always seems to know where it's going.  But where was I headed? Merely further into Middle Age?

  

Noosa River mouth

Turning the boat around, we flowed back towards the river mouth. And all the while the river chattered on, "a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea." The Wind in the Willows.

  

Just as the river merged into the ocean and met its end our day of "River Life" was also drawing to a close.  Philosophically, I had to agree it was impossible to step twice in the same river because it's always in a perpetual state of liquid evolution. And seeing the passage of time over all of our faces surely proved that no one ever stays the same - boats come and go but wrinkles come and grow.  Yet, I wanted to believe that some things, like the essence of who we are, old friendships and cherished memories, can remain constant in our ever changing world.

Noosa, Australia

Pod Blog

What the heck is a Pod Blog I hear you cry?  Don't worry, you haven't missed out on the latest offering from Google - it's a blog about a pod, a dream pod to be exact. 

Eager for an adventure into the unknown, I decided to become a "floater".  Before you assume I'm headed for a bad outcome in a criminal investigation, you need to know I won't be floating "face down" but "face up" in a completely dark, soundproof float tank filled with water and Epsom salts.  I was booked to float in a dream pod for an hour. 

I had no clue if this was going to be a dream boat experience or a claustrophobic, sensory deprivation nightmare.  My mind cast back to the old movie "Cocoon" where a bunch of elderly Florida pensioners swim in a pool infused with an Alien life force and are miraculously cured of their ailments.  Was I going to be rejuvenated by energy from outer space? 

Restricted Environmental Stimulation Therapy, REST, is based on the premise that most of the brain's workload is processing the external stimulation of gravity, temperature, touch, light and sound to the senses, muscles and nervous system.  Floating weightless in silent, dark meditation achieves complete sensory relaxation.  Free from all distractions, the body can focus on repairing and renewing the mind and body.

In the 1950's, Physician and Neuroscientist John Lilly developed sensory deprivation float tanks in his research into altered consciousness. He also experimented with dolphin communication and psychedelic drugs. 

Yikes!  Did this mean I was going to float high with cetaceans?  Surely the pod wasn't going to fit all that in there even if I was naked?

Luckily, all my questions were answered by the neat iPad presentation I listened to at check in.  The smiling face of Sarah proffered extra towels from behind the reception desk.  She reassured me that it was indeed like floating in space.  But would I be rejuvenated?

Our family friend and fellow psychonaut, embarking on the voyage into an altered state of consciousness with me, was dispatched to POD 1.

All the futuristic movies I'd ever seen about suspended animation space travel and cryogenics played out in my head as Sarah guided me towards Noosa Float's POD 2.

With a furtive sideways glance, I noticed a third door along the corridor and was too frighted to ask if that was where the sci-fi characters were being frozen,  but it turns out that it's actually an aromatherapy massage room.

After a final in-flight emergency button briefing from Sarah, I closed the door and found myself alone with a huge glowing clam shell and the internal chatter of my anxieties.  While showering, I reassured myself with the knowledge that tests have shown floating increases endorphins (the hormones that increase happiness, confidence and well-being) while simultaneously reducing stressful neurological-chemicals like cortisol and adrenaline.  At the very worst the Epsom salts would soothe away any aches and pains.   

After checking my silicon earplugs were tightly in place the countdown began, I was about to float into Space!  Channeling Amelia Earhart, I summoned all my mental moxie, clicked out the lights and slid into the silky blackness.   

It all felt so pleasant, warm, floaty and very relaxing on the body.  My proprioception (how you feel your body in space) was completely off but what did that matter?  I was deliciously buoyant.  

Sometime after the celestial music faded, my mind went exactly to where it shouldn't.  The frame by frame playback of a CSI scene where a hostage victim is buried alive and scratches frantically on the coffin roof.  While my body was suspended in tranquility, my mind had decided to push the big red vulnerability button deep in my psyche.  I gritted my teeth in response and ignored the desire to touch the ceiling of my pod.  Instead, I negotiated with myself for a compromise - I would touch the side of the pod with my toe.  I just had to check I hadn't accidentally slipped down a sensory deprivation black hole.



Not to worry, something else came along to think about.  It was a sound, almost like packing tape being pulled off a roll and sealing the clamshell shut forever.  I gave myself another toe touch to try and get a better grip.  How long had I been in here anyway? My mind jumped out of the pod, down the hall to reception and into the wide world that lay beyond my inky floating space. In a desperate attempt to avoid introspection, I braved the Epsom Salts, opened my eyes and compared the darkness - eyes shut - eyes open - there was no difference!

There was the noise again!  I convinced myself it had to be the state of the art filtration system settling down.  Then slowly it dawned on me it was my own digestive tract creating the gurgling.  And that's when I really heard it - my heartbeat.  The breathing, the double beat, my body simply being.  It's always there, how had I not heard the deafening drum before?  

Perhaps this wasn't sensory deprivation at all, perhaps this was sensory enhancement because I was able to tune into my heartbeat and breathing.  It was then that I acknowledged I was ready to sail into my soul and see what was there.  

But like asteroid belts and fiery comets, my thoughts invaded my space until finally my brainwaves altered and I drifted into a curious questioning place where my mind went back, back to the womb.  A state of being that all 8 billion of us have experienced, yet not one single one of us can remember it. 

Lilly (the inventor of the tank) described the float as an "inperience".  A fitting description of the experience as my thoughts bobbed around without co-ordinates in my "innerverse".  Reassured by the sounds of my breathing and heartbeats my body softened further or was it my mind?  The naked blackness embraced me and my identity dissolved into the saline abyss.  Time became meaningless as I entered a meditative space in the vacuity of the pod.

Brainwaves are really just the nerves communicating with electrical and chemical signals. Awake we use Beta waves. The more relaxed the brain becomes, the lower and more healing frequency brainwaves of Alpha and Theta are produced until Delta waves occur during sleep.  

Alpha and Theta frequencies can increase creative thinking and accelerated learning.  It's also believed that a deeply relaxed mind activates the latent abilities of the subconscious.  I'm not too sure what talents are lying undiscovered in the dark recesses of my head but the salty vacuum was certainly showing me a powerful pathway back to myself. 

A sound like a drop of water falling in the silence broke my trance.

Then, the celestial music drifted into my ears signaling my time was up.  As my life force tried to emerge from the cocoon, it seemed I had devolved into a sea slug - far too relaxed and jelly-like to be efficiently showering and heading into the lounge for rose hip tea.

Checking in the mirror, my clear eyes and shining face reflected back an idea that perhaps this was something I should do again?

Just like the Florida pensioners, I did indeed feel a euphoric rejuvenation.  As I carried the serenity with me throughout the day, I comprehended that I had indeed been on an adventure - one of acceptance and appreciation, a journey to my inner space.