Nobody is standing at the door with a Kalashnikov

We often wonder what goes on in the mind of someone who decides to cut themselves off completely from the outside world for a few days. So here is an honest first-hand account from one of our participants, who chose to share how she felt when she swapped the everyday rush for complete silence and stillness. Maybe you carry a similar longing to stop, and you’re looking for answers to questions that get lost in the noise of ordinary life. Read her story about how her dark retreat went, what the experience gave her and why, in the end, there was nothing to be afraid of.

A long-postponed wish under the Christmas tree

I’d known this method existed for a few years. It always felt like something I really needed. I just wanted to shut myself away somewhere, be completely alone, without people and without any distractions. I talked about it a lot, until in the end my husband gave me darkness therapy as a Christmas present. The people around me sort of know that I meditate, so they didn’t find it all that strange. If anything, people asked me whether I’d actually be able to stick it out. Some advised me to take various things to keep myself entertained, but I told them I wasn’t going there to be entertained, I was simply going into the dark.

When fear gives way to a velvety nothing

Before I went in, I had a certain fear inside me. I hadn’t looked into any details beforehand, how much it costs or where exactly it’s done, I just knew it existed. I didn’t read any websites and I wasn’t sure what might jump out at me in there. But the moment I shut myself in, all my worries were gone. Quite the opposite: the darkness started to feel like one big hug. It was incredibly pleasant and safe. The things your mind conjures up in half-light are far wilder than in total darkness. Here it’s just a kind of velvety nothing. The cabin even felt much bigger in that pitch-black darkness than it did with the lights on.

What zen tastes like, and eating everything with a spoon

Everything was perfectly manageable. After walking round the room a few times I’d measured out the space, and after that I knew pretty well what to do. I moved very carefully and covered my head with my hand so I wouldn’t bang it on anything. Sometimes I left the door to the hallway open to let air flow through, so I preferred to feel my way around to be safe. Eating wasn’t a problem either, because I ate everything with a spoon. It was interesting to watch my appetite. On the first evening I ate loads out of boredom, including the food I’d brought myself. But gradually that left me completely. A kind of zen set in, when I no longer even needed to finish whole portions and being half full was enough.

Lots of sleep and the wisdom of The Four Agreements

I spent most of the time either sleeping or meditating. Because I’m not very good at it sitting up, I meditated mostly lying down. That left me a bit stiff towards the end and I had to force myself to exercise, but inside I felt great. I did have a player in there, but I never figured out how to skip tracks on it. So I stayed with The Four Agreements, which I already know, but in that isolation they resonated with me far more than ever before. In the end I was actually glad about it; I really took a lot away from it.

Courage as a path to inner peace

Three days were plenty for me, but I could easily imagine staying longer. If you’re thinking about it, be brave and just try to get past the fear you have. People who’ve never been somewhere love talking about things they haven’t experienced. They might tell you you’ll be facing some kind of demons in there, but don’t believe it. Nobody is standing at the door with a Kalashnikov. At worst you can walk out of the cabin any time you like, it’s no big deal. So if you’re considering a dark retreat, just go for it.