Five Days In Darkness

I am not sure how to go about writing this in a way that gives my experience in the dark what it deserves. On some level, it feels too intimate, too vulnerable, too sacred, and too tender to write about publicly. Yet here I am, considering how I might share what I experienced during 6 nights and 5 days in complete darkness.

Perhaps I should begin by explaining where I went and why. On June 5th, I flew from Stockholm to Pisa. After a couple of days to ground myself in Lucca, I made my way to The Inner Peace Sanctuary, a serene forest-immersed oasis run by Arpita and Arjuna, the teachers with whom I certified to teach hatha yoga 3.5 years ago.

Though this journey officially began in June, the vision I held of retreating into total darkness came to life towards the end of 2020. Over the course of that trying year, I developed a strong pull towards deep rest and clarity. I was familiar with dark retreats, as Arpita and Arjuna held space for them in Guatamela when I studied yoga, but the concept was refreshed in my mind while listening to a podcast that grazed the subject. My soul longed for that deep, dark space of unknowing - of stillness, of no responsibilities, of peace - and so I booked my stay and crossed my fingers that travel restrictions would permit.

What would I do in the dark?

Many people asked - before and after - what there was to do in the dark. Next to nothing in a sense, and yet there is always something to occupy body and mind. I started and ended most days with yoga and/or stretching, meditation, and mindful sipping of garden-fresh herbal tea. This tea, along with my daily meals, were delivered through a double-doored food box ensuring that darkness was maintained during delivery.

In between morning movement and formal meditation, I rested much of the time. I also took inner journeys (a technique I learned through a recent workshop), tapping into visions of guides and my higher self with any questions, worries, or concerns I was holding onto. I danced. I breathed. And sometimes I wrote (difficult in darkness but not impossible).

If there were any challenges I needed assistance with (such as if I lost something or needed to talk), I was provided with small pieces of paper to write messages to Arpita. If I needed to talk, ‘talk’ would suffice and we would speak through the door of the restored forest ruin when she came to deliver my next meal.

What were my days like?

The first two days were deeply restful. I sunk naturally into my inner capacity for peace. I felt a strength and courage I hadn’t felt before and a high-degree of self-trust. I had moments of immense gratitude for both my life and for the darkness. The space also felt deeply raw, sensual, and primal, inviting me to tune into the wisdom and felt beauty of my body. I could sense an inner reclaiming of my feminine nature - a call to celebrate form, flow, and beauty.

On day three, as I was feeling my way towards my water mug, I felt something squish beneath by socked foot. My breath stopped, becoming trapped in my throat for a brief moment. Slowly, I kneeled down and grazed my fingers along the carpet with trepidation. The tips of my fingers glided across the back of a slug and I jumped back in fear. It was at this moment when things turned; emotions were, from here on out, just beneath the surface.

I wrote a note to Arpita saying ‘talk’, and when she delivered my breakfast some hours later, I told her what I had come across. She returned with a flashlight as I covered and closed my eyes securely, and then she entered the dark room to find and remove the trapped slug.

The small creature was found hiding beneath my bed, which offered me a deep sense of relief. Arpita recovered the slug and departed, and there I was again - held in darkness, free of the slug that had provoked my fears.

From here on out, as mentioned, emotions were close by. I had nowhere to escape to; the darkness is no hiding spot when it is all that you have. So I sat with what came up, letting fear pass through, tuning into my higher wisdom as needed. Still there were long stretches of ease and tranquility.

My dreams were intense with moments of lucidity. On two occasions while dreaming, I became acutely aware that I was indeed in a dream. My consciousness was hyper aware of my physical environment and so when these dreams showed me in another landscape, I knew they could not be true. In these two dreams I could hear myself say something along the lines of, “This isn’t real; it is a dream. I know I am not really here; I am in the dark.”

By the evening of day 4 and into the morning of day 5, I became convinced that there was a small tick lodged into my skin just beneath my eyebrow. I could not shake this conviction, and so I spoke with Arpita about it upon delivery of breakfast that last day. She sent Arjuna in with a small red light to have a look, and again I closed and covered my eyes as he examined the area. The small tick was no tick at all; when I emerged the next day, I saw it for the unidentifiable red bump that it was.

Among other occurrences during my retreat, this moment turned out to be one of the most impactful experiences during these five days. After Arjuna left, I crumbled beneath a heavy blanket of shame. The story I told myself then was that I am weak, that my experience and strength was now discredited, and that I must be stupid (because who mistakes a bump for a tick?). Again, there was no way to escape these thoughts and feelings; I had to be with them.

And so I sat with what moved through me and listened with curiosity before turning towards one of my inner guides. My inner high priestess offered me powerful reminders:

  • that my journey does not need to look in any particular way

  • that I do not need to (and cannot in any case) reach my unrealistic expectations for perfection

  • that I can struggle without the added weight of self-criticism

In this visual journey, my guide pointed towards a plant that wasn’t growing in a straight line and that clearly had weak points. She asked me, “Is this plant struggling?” I said, "Yes.” She then asked if the plant criticized itself for its struggles, the answer and meaning of which was clear.

She then guided me to converse with my inner child - to ask this child self what she thought of me. And as I turned towards an image of my six year old self in a floral print skirt and long sleeve purple crop top, I was met with unconditional love. My inner child not only was free of criticism towards me; she thought I was exceptional. She was in awe with who I had become.

What other insights arose?

The deeper wisdom that came through most naturally and most frequently for me while in the dark retreat was a deeper trust in life’s flow and an understanding of how futile it is to argue with time. There were moments I found myself counting down the days, but each time I did this I also became acutely aware that it literally did not matter in the slightest. I could have one day left or I could have four days left. In either case, it did not change my present moment reality. Here I was in the dark. Here I was with myself.

One of the unedited scribbles in my notebook from this time in darkness reads:

We will love and hate time

for passing through us

and yet our desire to hold on or to move

quicker will not change the reality

of constant flow.

Our skin will age, as it should.

Our hair will grey, as it should.

And no suffering will last forever.

We will love and we will lose

everything as time weaves and the earth

spins. And so in this precious moment,

what might we celebrate? What can we

cherish for this one sacred breath?

And so that is how it was: a seamless blend of highs, lows, and the peace that resides beneath the current of thoughts and feelings. Upon emerging, forest plants were greener than I have ever perceived them to be. And again, a wave of gratitude washed through me - gratitude for the beauty that is this life and the retreat in darkness that helped me to attune to it. To come back to the world with fresh eyes and mind.

Previous
Previous

The Truths That Wish to Be Spoken Freely

Next
Next

Social Media & What It Means to Be Human