how to relax
Kiko Sounds

How to Stop Feeling So Stressed Out

We test-drove the newest, coolest ways to relax

November is tough. As the thrill of changing foliage and flavoured lattes subsides, the air’s icy sting sets in, along with a feeling that everything—your skin, your hair, your mood—is seriously lacking in vitality. You try to focus on the promised deliverance of the Holidays (they’ll be here before you know it, right?) only to be overcome by the crushing panic of the Holiday to-do list: buy presents, wrap presents, wrap self in convincing seasonal cheer…

How about a little R&R instead? Looking to do away with our November woes, we set out to try the latest ways to relax, from sci-fi frequency spas to new-age sound baths. So put away the to-do list and join us for a little de-stressing, won’t you?

 

how to relax
Dew Sweat

Sweat session 

$55 (50 minutes), Dew Sweat, 811 Gerrard St. E., Toronto, dewsweathouse.com

What is it?

A 55-minute “deep penetration” sweat induced by FAR infrared light technology. The idea is that the FAR infrared rays penetrate into tissue, joints and muscle, warming your body from the inside out—a particularly dreamy proposition during our unexpected Polar Vortex. Co-owners Sue Kuruvilla and Julianne Smola cite health benefits including revved up circulation, muscle relaxation and deeper sleep. But, as Smola explains, there are less tangible benefits, too: “A big part of the mission was helping people give themselves the gift of care.” Kuruvilla and Smola started the studio last year, after cancer experiences in their families. 

What it was like?

The sweat studio is housed in a chic, minimalist space on an unassuming strip of Gerrard Street. Smola handed me a large glass bottle of water and sent me to change into loose clothing. Then she led me to one of the treatment rooms, which are delineated with linen curtains the colour of sand. I clambered into the delightfully comfortable spa bed—lined with plastic on the top and bottom—while Smola pulled the heated linens over me and adjusted the temperature: “You definitely want to get a good sweat going.” Then the best part: I put on headphones, lay back and watched Queer Eye, sipping ice-cold water as the sweat started. It was like being in the world’s coziest cocoon, enhanced by the Fab Five’s message of self-love. Smola came in after 30 minutes to place a chilled cloth scented with lavender on my forehead. By then, I had my arms out of the blanket because that heat was intense. Post-treatment, I changed out of my loose clothing—now soaked through on the level of a hot yoga session—and enjoyed a quartet of fresh oranges.

Relaxation rating?

10/10, for sure. I floated out of the studio, fully intending to take an Uber back to the office. Instead, I found myself walking for 12 blocks through a neighbourhood I hadn’t been in in for years. Outside a florist, I stopped to smell white lilies. By a Chinese grocery store, I ran my hand across plump grapefruits. I ducked into a café and ordered a fragrant peppermint tea, which warmed my hands on the walk to the streetcar, then home. —Laura deCarufel, editor-in-chief

 

how to relax
Soul 7

Frequency spa

$99 (45 minutes), Soul 7, 17 Yorkville Ave. #100, Toronto, soul7.ca

What is it?

A “neurofitness” session combining sound therapy, guided visualizations and personal mastery coaching to rewire your response to stress. Essentially, you recline in a zero-gravity chair, pop on some headphones and watch a sort of self-help video. But the real magic lies in the frequencies, which are set to music and delivered through the chair itself. They feel like vibrations, akin to a massage chair, and emit a quiet buzzing that acts as a tuning fork for your nervous system.

What it was like?

As Jacob Charendoff, NeuroFit’s co-founder, explained to me “[the program] is designed to shred subconscious limiting beliefs and replace them with more positive thought patterns—to help us become version 2.0 of ourselves.” It all sounded very Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to me, but since my jaw had been tensed up for weeks, I decided to give it a whirl. I sat back in one of the neuro-pods as Charendoff handed me a weighted blanket and switched on the tablet. First came the guided visualization, led by Dr. Clifford Saunders, whose Ph.D. is in neuroplasticity. He asked me to picture a pretty beach and then… well I don’t actually remember what happened next. The frequencies trigger what’s called the theta state, the border between the conscious and subconscious worlds. It’s a bit like being hypnotized. I’m told the remainder of the 45-minute session consisted of Jenifer Merifield, a mindset coach, teaching me how to actively change my perception of stressful situations. I’m sure Jenifer is lovely but I have zero recollection of her. Before I knew it, I was fully awake again and taking off my disposable slippers. Slightly confused but admittedly less tense. 

Relaxation rating?

8.5/10. Soul 7 guarantees results for its 90-day bootcamp, comprised of 20 NeuroFit sessions that build on each other with themes like “head-stretching” (opening the mind to new possibilities) and “brain-washing” (ridding the brain of toxic thought patterns). But even after one try, I found myself feeling way more chill when deadlines crept up and tasks started multiplying. I’d definitely consider going back. —Katherine Lalancette, beauty director 

 

how to relax
Kiko Sounds

Sound bath 

$20 (60 minutes), Focus Mindspace, 49 Ossington Ave., Toronto, focusmindspace.com

What is it?

A soothing “bath” of sounds promoting stillness and relaxation. You wrap yourself in a yoga blanket like a baby and lie on one of the comfy mats, set up in a circle around a central spread of instruments and sound-making objects. Their vibrations are said to invite meditative and therapeutic effects into the mind and body, guiding them to a state of equilibrium.

What it’s like?

I ascended (in a rush, regrettably) from traffic-logged Queen and Ossington into the airy focus Mindspace studio, where roving sound bath practitioner Kiko of Kiko Sounds had set up shop for the evening. Around her were beautiful translucent cylinders and bowls, metal prongs, a traditional Indian instrument and clusters of what looked like dried seed pods. Kiko, wearing very cool loose silver pants, started with a brief explanation of what was to come and asked if anyone preferred not to have have their head or bodies touched by instruments. Over the following hour, she played each instrument in turn for a few minutes. They made sounds ranging from melodic tone to drone to hum to vibrate to crackle. Initially, my mind kept drifting to what I was going to have for dinner and the tasks I didn’t finish at work. I’m not a talented meditator, particularly after a hectic day, which is when it would be most beneficial. But each transition to a new sound pulled me back to the experience at hand, and eventually I drifted off, not quite asleep but not quite conscious, either. As promised, at certain points I felt the touch of a thrumming instrument graze my head or upper arms. Kiko ended the class with some group sighs and hums and ohms, so we too made some sounds. It felt nice, like a release of energy.

Relaxation rating?

8/10. Afterwards, I was pleasantly bleary, like after a good restorative yoga class, and indeed Kiko says she often combines the two practices in collaboration with another yoga teacher. I vowed to try that next in my new quest to bring mind and body together in calm coziness. —Rani Sheen, executive editor

 

how to relax
Hoame

Deep mind meditation

$23 (30 minutes), Hoame Meditation Studio, 430 Adelaide St. W., Toronto, hoame.ca

What is it? 

You spend this half-hour class lying in a dark room (with a ceiling lit with twinkly faux stars) under a blanket and wearing headphones. Through the headphones comes occasional guidance from the class leader but mostly it’s moody, space-age electro music called binaural beats. According to Psychology Today, binaural beats are a technology combining two sound frequencies, one in each ear (one that you can’t actually hear!) that when perceived by the brain slow down brainwaves.

What it was like?

I showed up to this class with my stress level at a 9 and was immediately put off by the guy in the waiting room with his bare feet snuggled into the couch when I sat down. I like to meditate, do yoga, work out—anything that comes in class form—at home by myself, so when I had to take my spot I was like, “Ew, strangers.” Basically, I could not have entered this experience with a worse attitude. “What is this weird slow-warp Star-Wars-intro music, anyway?” I thought, when it started coming through the headphones. I did my best to shelve my skepticism because there’s nothing less relaxing than trying to meditate when you’re stressed and grumpy. Turns out, the trippy music does half the work for you. I found my mind wandered far less than usual when it had undulating tones to follow. It was a distraction from my mood, whereas silence can sometimes heighten bad vibes and a racing mind. When the little beeps (which were a bit abrupt) signified the end of the class I was shocked because I hadn’t realized it was only a half-hour long…which brought my skepticism back. “How is half an hour supposed to do anything?!” But I was truly amazed when I found myself walking slowly to my car, a marked departure from my usual hurried pace.

Relaxation rating? 

9/10. This class calmed me down! Significantly! I also didn’t turn on my radio and frantically flip through the stations in my car, another sure sign that I was able to embrace peace and quiet. The annoying hippie music turned out to be the most effective meditation I’ve ever done. —Eden Boileau, managing editor

 

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