I get off the train at the station in Kutná Hora, and as my means of transport to Lomec, my destination, I choose my own two feet. I’d like one more walk and a look at the countryside, I tell myself, seeing as I won’t see a thing for a week. The wind is driving snowflakes straight into my face, but that only makes the journey more interesting.
My first real awareness of the seriousness of my situation actually came the evening before I left – that’s when it first dawns on me that a week of darkness therapy, a week of deep, dark solitude, might not be a walk in the park.
And the dark retreat began
The second comes a few minutes after I switch off the light. I’m lying in bed, frozen through from the journey, my feet by the radiator and one thought in my head: “Well, this is going to be a real slog.” The silence and the deep, dark darkness wrapped themselves around me, and I felt like a simple little consciousness in an infinitely vast cave where there is nothing but this consciousness of mine.
If there is such a thing as purgatory, it must look like this.
Gradually, though, I realise I have two great gifts at my disposal that will make my lot easier – my body and my voice. And so I start to sing and to rejoice in every breath.
The first days are all about sleep, singing and playing the flute, which I’d also brought with me (and that turned out to be a very far-sighted move), about enjoying what little movement I have the appetite and energy for, the excellent food that is a surprise every day, and the brief company of Tomáš or Lenča, whose presence is a spark in the darkness and solitude.
Only halfway through the retreat do I accept the darkness, get used to it and stop seeing it as an obstacle and an enemy, but rather as a friend who reveals things to me that in ordinary life we’re not in the habit of paying attention to.
I let the darkness therapy run its course
On Tomáš’s advice I don’t try to bring anything on, and I let everything run its own course. Time passes and I begin to realise that there probably won’t be any revelation or enlightenment. The realisations that do come are smaller, but always pleasing.
I should add here that my motivation for the retreat isn’t to resolve some difficult life situation, as it is for many others. Although I have to admit that I, too, came up with the idea of a dark retreat because of some of life’s dilemmas. To a large extent, though, they resolved themselves even before I went into the dark.
So now I enter the dark with a fairly simple question on my lips: “Is it possible to be alone with yourself, just with your mind/your consciousness, without any everyday distractions, for a whole week?” Surely, I tell myself, that ought to be the most basic human nature – being able to be alone with yourself. How is a person supposed to be able to function within society and the whole world if they can’t function within themselves, I ask.
Well, it can be done. And it isn’t as difficult as it might seem – at least it didn’t seem so to me. My conscience in this matter isn’t entirely clear, however, since I did distract myself after all. At least I’d call it distraction – whether it was singing or long stretches spent completely absorbed in imaginings and memories. On the other hand, I believe all of this is a natural part of being human too, and perhaps I could be called far too strict with myself if I combined a possible future dark retreat with silence, though that idea does appeal to me at the moment.
Energy for life after darkness therapy
In any case, I come out of the dark one beautiful Saturday morning full of energy, optimism and zest for life. The conversations with Tomáš and Lenča certainly played their part too; they were wonderful advisers, confidants and guides to me, for which they have my sincere thanks.
And even though towards the end of the retreat I’d become convinced that, from a certain point on, it had nothing more to give me, I’m glad I stayed until the end. My reward was a feeling that only came to me on the penultimate evening – the feeling that the inside of the cabin was lit by the faintest light you can imagine. Something like moonlight pushing out from behind the clouds, hinting at the shapes around you. A truly magical feeling.
With hindsight I’ve reconsidered my view (namely that the darkness had already given me everything it could), and when the time is ripe and I again feel that urge to be alone with myself for a few days, or even weeks, I won’t hesitate to do it again, perhaps for even longer.
Am I a year wiser after the dark retreat?
Finally, to put the icing on the cake, I’ll confess that I celebrated my birthday in the dark – my twenty-second (though it was actually Tomáš who immediately realised how nice it would be to write that I went in at twenty-one and came out at twenty-two).
So I came out of the cabin a year older, and I believe a little more self-aware too…
Thank you for everything; I can only recommend a dark retreat to everyone.
Honza
