Alex Israel – Daybreak Nimbus
It was an ordinary day, other than the fact that I happened to be treating myself to a healthy dose of magnesium in a float tank. When I’ve done this in the past, I’ve had transcendent moments as a result of the combination of lighting, weightlessness, and whatever epic soundtrack I may have chosen. This time, the sound was not working, and I instead was subjected to an hour of sensory deprivation.
Although annoyed by the absence of music in what is an infrequent ritual for me, I fell back on my years of meditation practice to lull myself into a state of tranquility inside the pod. I can’t quite estimate the duration, but in what seemed like an instant, I was in a different place. I was awash in color and fragrance, akin to what Debussy described, but oddly, there was no soundtrack.
As I bathed, physically, in the concentrated solution of salt and water, I also bathed mentally in an other-worldly blend of sensations. I felt the urge to score this experience, and I stayed in this place for what seemed like days. Before long, individual parts of a song slowly faded in, joining the sights and smells. As soon as the music was fully realized, I was jolted back to reality by the pumps shutting off, signifying the end of my float time.
As I emerged from the tank, rinsed and dried off, and headed home, the tune regrettably faded into memory. I got home and resumed my life, kissing my kids and wife goodnight, and fell into a deep, restful sleep.
The next morning, although the song had slipped away, I felt the urge to check my equipment should creativity strike. By some unexplained phenomenon, everything was on, programmed, and patched, just as I heard during my float. I spent the day painstakingly arranging and mixing, hoping to do justice to the song I consider a gift from another plane of consciousness. I hope I did.
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