My Journey Into Darkness: A Tale of Surrender
Leading up to this experience, I had so many random thoughts about the unknown nature of what I was signing up for.
How hard is this going to be? Can I do it? I have no idea what will come up.
Have you ever stood at the edge of the unknown, heart pounding, knowing the next step would plunge you into complete darkness? Not just the darkness of a moonless night, but a darkness so absolute it erases the line between eyes open and closed.
That’s where I found myself, chasing an experience few dare to speak of. The whispers came first from my coach – an excited recommendation wrapped in mystery, with details as elusive as shadows at dusk.
Online searches yielded only fragments, scattered breadcrumbs leading into the void.
But sometimes, the absence of stories tells its own tale.
The path to darkness began with a year of waiting. Like water dripping in a cave, time carved out anticipation until finally, an email emerged: “November 27—December 4th?” My heart leaped. My calendar cleared, life reorganized, and I stood ready to descend – only to discover these dates were mirages, floating in the future still twelve months away.
But destiny has a way of bending to determined souls.
When one door to darkness closed, another opened along Mexico’s Pacific coast.
Five days instead of seven. “Easier,” I thought, my adventurer’s heart beating with familiar confidence.
Yet something felt different this time.
The nervous electricity crackling through my veins wasn’t the usual adrenaline rush of my high-octane pursuits.
This was ancient, primal – the kind of anticipation our ancestors must have felt before venturing into unmapped territories.
My last moments of light were a gift: a sunset painting the Mexican coast in gold, as if nature herself was offering one final embrace.
Then came the practical preparations – water, notepad, emergency light – simple anchors for an extraordinary journey.
As I stood in that room, candle flickering, I realized this wasn’t just another adventure.
This was a surrender. To darkness. To silence. To whatever lay waiting in the depths of my own mind.
The flame wavered.
One breath would separate everything I knew from everything I was about to discover.
I blew out the candle.
And so began my descent into five days of absolute darkness, where time loses meaning, and the only light comes from within.
[Continue reading as I guide you through my journey to surrender day by day for the next five days…]
Day 1: When Darkness Becomes My Teacher
After the marathon of flights and that long drive through Mexico, darkness wraps around me like a weighted blanket, welcoming me into its embrace, heavy with promise and possibility.
My host’s words float in the void: “You’ll sleep longer than usual.”
Simple words that would soon reveal the first lesson darkness had to teach.
Lesson #1: In the light, we move too fast. We listen to respond, not to understand.
How many crucial details had I missed?
What did “usual” mean to her?
What was “normal” in a place where time holds no dominion?
These questions would haunt me later, but for now, sleep beckons.
The dreams arrive swift and strange – like thieves testing locks at night.
My mind constructs elaborate escapes from the darkness three or four times.
Each time, I wake to the same truth: I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, and my mind is already beginning its dance with the void.
When consciousness returns, it arrives with unexpected vitality.
The darkness hasn’t drained me; it’s filled me with energy.
But the energy for what?
Time has become a stranger here, leaving me with nothing but sensation to be my guide.
Then comes the food – my first lesson in pure presence.
Each bite becomes an exploration, a mystery to solve.
The familiar becomes foreign, then familiar again in a whole new way.
Pineapple reveals itself not through sight but through texture, temperature, and taste.
Apples chunks follow, and each bite becomes a discovery of sensation unspoiled by visual distraction.
In the darkness, even breakfast becomes meditation.
Lesson #2: Life reveals its deepest richness when we remove distraction. We miss the extraordinary in each moment because we're too busy looking elsewhere.
But the real work begins after my meal.
With my ambitious intentions packed like careful cargo, I dive into what I assume will be deep, transformative work.
After all, isn’t that why I’m here?
The darkness has other plans and its own agenda.
The entire reason I signed up for this crazy journey is the transformation I hope to experience in such a unique environment.
Chances are you nor I have ever experienced anything like this because the last time you experienced total darkness and silence for an extended waking period longer than a long night was when you were in your mother’s womb.
Within an hour, the truth emerges: my mind is an addict, and distractions are its drug of choice.
Every attempt at depth is met with resistance, my thoughts skittering across the surface like water droplets on a hot pan.
The darkness strips away my illusions of mental discipline, revealing just how dependent I’ve become on the constant stimulation of the outside world.
Anything new will require some mental jujitsu or wrestling to make headway.
In response, I turn to the physical – pushups, squats, anything to exhaust the body into submission.
Lesson #3: Our environment overrides our willpower. Declutter everything to remove the distraction our brain craves.
The darkness doesn’t judge; it simply observes as I work through this first resistance layer.
Hours pass – three, maybe four – until a different kind of tiredness finally sets in.
Not the exhaustion of defeat but the satisfying fatigue of first progress.
As I drift off to sleep again, the darkness whispers its lessons.
Listen deeper.
Be present.
Strip away the unnecessary.
Simple teachings that would prove profound in the days to come.
I didn’t know then that this was just the first layer of the onion, the first step in a descent that would strip away far more than just my ability to see.
The darkness was just getting started.
Day 2: The Body Speaks in Darkness
With the first layer of mental clutter beginning to clear, the darkness reveals new dimensions of my experience.
The practical realities of my situation take on new meaning – the double-doored food chute, the notepad I’ll never see my words on, the complete isolation from light in any form.
A memory surfaces from that last sunset walk: my casual question about mosquitoes met with an answer that still echoes: “Nope, we have spiders, tarantulas, and scorpions.”
In the darkness, my mind conjures phantom crawls across my skin.
Each imagined touch sends ripples of awareness through my consciousness.
Yet each time I brush at my skin, I find nothing – just another trick of the mind learning to navigate this void.
Lesson #4: Our fears often live solely in our imagination, creating physical sensations that feel devastatingly real until we shine the light of awareness on them.
Sleep continues to be a revelation.
I’ve known two nights of the deepest rest as if the darkness is cradling me into renewal.
I wake with vitality humming through my veins, ready to greet whatever the darkness has planned for me today.
The morning begins with familiar anchors – breathwork, the firm support of the yoga mat beneath me, and the satisfaction of physical movement.
Small victories banking confidence for the day ahead.
But the darkness isn’t finished with its lessons.
As I attempt to resume yesterday’s mental work, my body launches a rebellion.
A Charlie horse seizes my hamstring.
My back protests with unexpected soreness.
My hand blazes with phantom fire.
Each physical sensation arrives precisely when my thoughts deepen, like guardians protecting buried treasures of consciousness.
Lesson #5: The body holds its own wisdom, speaking in a language of sensation and distraction when the mind ventures too close to hidden truths.
Instead of fighting these physical interruptions, I chose to lie still and witness each sensation.
Hours pass as I observe without judgment, neither pushing away the discomfort nor grasping for relief.
When the spontaneous sensations subside, I deliberately summon every uncomfortable experience I can recall, watching each one arise and dissolve in the darkness.
In this void, there is nowhere to hide from yourself.
There are no distractions to soften the edges of discomfort. Just the pure experience of being with whatever arises until even the most persistent sensations dissolve into peace.
Lesson #6: Resistance creates suffering. Acceptance transforms it into peace.
As the process naturally winds down, I become aware of something extraordinary – pure energy freely flowing through my body, unobstructed by tension or resistance.
The peace that follows isn’t the peace of exhaustion but of surrender, of letting go into something larger than myself.
Sleep claims me once again, but this time it’s different.
I drift off not in darkness but in light – the inner light that, funny enough, only becomes visible in the deepest dark.
The journey continues, and I’m beginning to suspect that these early revelations are just the surface of what the darkness has to teach.
Day 3: When the Observer Becomes the Observed
Day 2’s profound peace summons me like a siren song.
Why not deepen this newfound state and create muscle memory around these revelations?
The darkness seems to smile at my ambition.
I begin with the familiar – breathwork and yoga mat exercises.
Even here, in this timeless void, some anchors remain essential.
Lesson #7: Life rewards consistency, not good intentions.
Even in darkness, our habits shape our reality.
Back on the bed, I systematically explore my entire life through four fundamental relationships:
Body – My physical body and the stories it carries
Being – My connection to God and myself
Balance – The web of relationships that define my world
Business – My dance with material resources
Hours dissolve as I methodically work through each category, a surgeon of consciousness operating in the dark.
A recent memory surfaces – my conversation with Michael Singer just days before entering this darkness.
Our discussion about meditation and self-created problems feels prophetic now.
I decide to venture deeper into meditation, but not my usual 10-15 minute daily practice.
No, the darkness demands more.
Lesson #8: What we think are our limits are often just comfortable habits waiting to be transcended.
As rhythmic breathing carries me into stillness, the question emerges: Who is watching?
The observer behind my eyes becomes suddenly, startlingly clear.
My legs fall asleep, discomfort rises, yet I remain unmoved – not through force of will, but through the profound realization that I am not these sensations.
I am the witness to them.
Then comes the quantum leap – turning the observer upon itself.
Thank you, Michael. 🙏🏼
The following experience defies language, a profound peace that makes previous definitions of the word seem shallow.
Hours pass in this state, breath becoming optional, reality becoming fluid.
Lesson #9: Behind every thought, sensation, and experience lies a consciousness vast enough to hold it all.
When I think the day’s lessons are complete, the darkness has one final revelation.
As I attempt to drift into sleep, my brain begins its natural DMT production, and reality… shifts.
Suddenly, impossibly, I can “see” the room – the yoga mat, meditation bench, every detail crystal clear.
Amazed, I stand to walk to the bench, only to collide face-first with a very real wall.
The darkness laughs its silent laugh.
My mind, uncomfortable with the void, had created its own illuminated reality, complete with false memories and spatial awareness.
Lesson #10: The mind will create entire universes to avoid sitting with uncertainty. Our perceived reality is often just another story we tell ourselves.
After this cosmic joke, I finally find my way to bed – this time using my hands as guides through the actual darkness.
Sleep comes quickly, carrying me away from a day that redefined my understanding of consciousness itself.
The darkness isn’t just teaching anymore; it’s revealing the very nature of reality itself.
Day 4: When Time Loses Its Meaning
By the fourth awakening, DMT greets me like an old friend – present but not yet overwhelming.
Its gentle hallucinations dance at the edges of consciousness, a preview of what’s to come.
Morning rituals begin as usual – breathwork, exercise, a brief flirtation with meditation.
But the breathwork intensifies the DMT effects, teaching me another lesson in surrender.
Some doors are better left unopened, at least for now.
Lesson #11: Wisdom isn't just knowing when to push forward - it's also knowing when to pause and let things be.
This will be impactful for me in the future when it sinks in.
My mind turns to the profound experiences of days two and three, seeking to recreate that depth of presence.
But in this timeless void, new revelations emerge:
Memory becomes crystal clear without the constant barrage of external stimuli.
Thoughts flow with clarity and depth I’ve never experienced in the light-filled world.
It’s as if I’ve discovered a hidden reservoir of mental capacity previously drowned out by the noise of daily life.
Lesson #12: Our natural state contains boundless energy. Our stories, beliefs, and perceived obligations drain us - not life itself.
By now, I’m approaching my hundredth hour in darkness.
Time has become entirely fluid, lacking the food deliveries – my last of the simple anchors – proving unreliable.
My mind, I later discover, had created patterns where none existed, desperate to maintain some semblance of order.
The day unfolds as an echo of yesterday’s profound experiences, but the deepest waters remain just out of reach.
The DMT experience builds steadily through the day, like a tide rising against the shores of consciousness, making each attempt at depth more challenging than the last.
Lesson #13: The mind will create order from chaos, even if it has to invent that order entirely.
As what feels like day four draws to a close, a sense of completion washes over me.
I’ve reached the insights I came for.
I accomplished what I set out to do.
Tomorrow, we will simply wrap up loose ends before returning them to the light.
The darkness seems to chuckle at my assumptions.
Like many times before, I’ve fallen into the trap of thinking I know what comes next.
But the void has one more day of lessons to teach – lessons that will shatter every expectation I’ve built over these past four days.
Sleep comes with a false sense of accomplishment, unaware that the most profound – and challenging – part of my journey still awaits in the darkness of day five.
[Continue reading as Day 5 reveals its unexpected teachings…]
Day 5: The Darkest Hour Before Dawn
My final day arrives like a twisted visual of what came before.
How easy it would be to claim I faced this challenge with unwavering resolve.
But the darkness demands honesty, and the truth is far more raw, far more human.
The day begins after what feels like a brief nap, though I now know better than to trust such perceptions.
My mind wages an internal war – insisting I should be exhausted after days of minimal sleep, yet my body hums with inexplicable energy.
This cognitive dissonance becomes the first battle of many to come.
Lesson #14: The stories we tell ourselves about what "should be" often blind us to what actually is.
The DMT experiences that had been building reached their crescendo.
Unlike the gentle dance of previous days, they command center stage today.
Ignoring them or avoidance is never an option.
There is no music to guide the journey, no shamanic container to hold the experience – just my consciousness and an ever-shifting landscape of visual imagery that changes with each blink, breath, and moment of surrender.
Lesson #15: There's a profound difference between surrendering to an experience and being consumed by it.
Morning rituals – breathwork, exercise, meditation – all fall away.
These practices that anchored previous days now feel impossible.
Instead, I lie there, watching reality fracture and reform countless times, each minute stretching into what feels like hours.
Time becomes torture.
I create desperate routines – from bed to meditation bench, from bench back to bed – repeating this circuit perhaps forty times over the eternal hours.
Each time I sit, I promise myself to stay just a little longer, to prove something to myself about endurance and worth.
Lesson #16: Sometimes growth isn't found in greatness but in simply remaining present through the struggle.
Two or three times, I find myself at the door, hands on the handles, imagining the relief was just on the other side.
Deep down, I knew if I walked out, the torture would last long into the future rather than end when the sunrise came.
Each time, something deeper than resolve keeps me in place – perhaps the wisdom that our most significant breakthroughs often come disguised as our breaking points.
The entire day feels longer than the previous four combined.
Every moment is an exercise in choosing to stay and remembering that I’m not losing my mind – it’s just trying to make sense of the senseless.
This is what true surrender looks like: not peaceful acceptance, but the raw, moment-by-moment choice to remain when every fiber of your being screams to run.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, a knock at the door signals my release.
The sunrise awaiting me at the cliffs isn’t just the start of a new day – it’s the dawn of a new way of being.
Lesson #17: Our deepest transformations often come not from our moments of peace but from our moments of most significant challenge.
Sitting on those cliffs, sharing family stories with my host, I discover the first visceral evidence of my transformation.
A story I’ve told countless times about my father’s final days – one I thought I’d processed completely – suddenly breaks me open.
Tears flow freely, emotions surge unexpectedly and raw, revealing that the darkness had been working its magic even when I thought I was merely enduring.
The fresh fruit that breaks my fast tastes like life, and the rising sun feels like a personal rebirth.
Though just two weeks have passed since that morning, it feels like a lifetime ago – as if the person who entered the darkness was entirely different.
The darkness had one final lesson to teach: sometimes, our most significant growth comes not from the experiences we cherish but from the ones we survive.
[The journey continues as the integration begins…]
Integrations:
Echoes from the Darkness:
The Integration Begins – It is always me.
The light has a way of revealing what the darkness taught us if we’re willing to see it.
As messages flood in asking about my journey into the void, I find myself watching the subtle shifts unfold like ripples in still water.
Transformation, I’m learning, doesn’t always announce itself with fanfare.
Sometimes, it whispers through the cracks of everyday life, revealing itself in moments we least expect.
This week brought such a revelation.
When someone very dear to my heart triggered an old wound, I felt the familiar surge of reaction rather than response.
Their words seemed to float in the space between promise and action, and I felt myself disappearing into that gap – ignored, unimportant, forgotten.
Lesson #18: Our triggers aren't accusations to hurl outward but mirrors asking us to look deeper within.
In the darkness, I learned to sit with discomfort until it revealed its truth.
So now, I turn the mirror on myself:
Where have my words danced away from my actions?
How have I made myself feel unimportant through my own choices?
The answer emerges with the clarity I found in the void.
After this relationship ended, I had quietly slowed the ambitious goals I’d set for my health and business. Not intentionally, more of an allowing of distraction.
The very accusation I hurled outward – words not matching actions – was a reflection of my own internal disconnect.
Lesson #19: What we judge in others often reveals what we haven't healed in ourselves.
The darkness has taught me to see beyond my stories and to find truth in the spaces between thoughts.
Now, back in the light, this gift continues to unfold.
I’m no longer afraid to live in radical honesty and look unflinchingly at my shortcomings.
They’re not failures to hide from but doorways to deeper understanding.
The void showed me how to sit with uncomfortable truths until they transform into wisdom.
Each trigger becomes an invitation to heal, each moment of friction an opportunity to grow.
Lessons from the Dark:
Lesson #1: In the light, we move too fast. We listen to respond, not to understand.
Lesson #2: Life reveals its deepest richness when we remove distraction. We miss the extraordinary in each moment because we’re too busy looking elsewhere.
Lesson #3: Our environment overrides our willpower. Declutter everything to remove the distraction our brain craves.
Lesson #4: Our fears often live solely in our imagination, creating physical sensations that feel devastatingly real until we shine the light of awareness on them.
Lesson #5: The body holds its own wisdom, speaking in a language of sensation and distraction when the mind ventures too close to hidden truths.
Lesson #6: Resistance creates suffering. Acceptance transforms it into peace.
Lesson #7: Life rewards consistency, not good intentions.
Lesson #8: What we think are our limits are often just comfortable habits waiting to be transcended.
Lesson #9: Behind every thought, sensation, and experience lies a consciousness vast enough to hold it all.
Lesson #10: The mind will create entire universes to avoid sitting with uncertainty.
Lesson #11: Wisdom isn’t just knowing when to push forward – it’s also knowing when to pause and let things be.
Lesson #12: Our natural state contains boundless energy.
Our stories, beliefs, and perceived obligations drain us – not life itself.
Lesson #13: The mind will create order from chaos, even if it has to invent that order entirely.
Lesson #14: The stories we tell ourselves about what “should be” often blind us to what actually is.
Lesson #15: There’s a profound difference between surrendering to an experience and being consumed by it.
Lesson #16: Sometimes growth isn’t found in greatness but in simply remaining present through the struggle.
Lesson #17: Our deepest transformations often come not from our moments of peace but from our moments of most significant challenge.