redecker60 Hours in the Dark
I just completed a 60-hour dark room retreat in my tiny home, in the desert. Total darkness. Not a pinhole of light. The room was sealed with blackout material. Air came through a 4-inch pipe attached to a fan. Food came through a “light-lock” hatch created with blankets (airlock-style). No screens. No timekeeping. No visual reference at all.
I had been wanting to do this for years, and it really only happened after inspiration from Andrew Durham and his book on hygienic dark retreats. His work made this feel simple and possible. I had also known about Sky Cave Retreats for a while, but didn’t want to spend all that money on, quite literally, “nothing.” Sky Cave shows up in articles every so often. It’s quite popular—one of the only places in the United States—and their waitlist is about three years out.
Boulder Gardens is a sanctuary in its own right, so it was the perfect place for something like this. Remote, wild, and quiet. After covering all the windows with plastic and fabric, Josie—my partner—went in first. She made 60 hours look easy. I fed her all kinds of things, but really her job was to sleep. She came out into the blazing sun three days later wearing sunglasses. She said it was great.
The interior of my tiny homeBy 7:25 pm I was inside. The door closed. The world disappeared. Just the white noise from the fan, constantly on. It wasn’t just dark. It was velvety black.
I slept, or drifted, or something in between. Time loosened its grip almost immediately. But in another way, it wasn’t that different from a normal night. I woke a few times, but there was no urgency. I just lay there as long as I could. Normally when I wake up, I start thinking, planning, measuring. I usually can’t wait to get out of bed and begin the day. None of that happened here. I just fell back into sleep.
The first stretch felt long, but not difficult. I noticed small things—light leaks around the door, a faint glow near the food hatch. I blocked them with clothes and a poncho until the room was nearly perfect. Even then, there were moments of light. The radio had the faintest glow, even through three layers of duct tape. Rubbing blankets together created little flashes, but in total darkness they became bright sparkles. In total darkness, even the smallest thing becomes big.
Communication was through handheld radios. I had a high-powered transceiver that could be heard a mile away. I kept it off unless I needed something and placed it near my bed so I wouldn’t lose it. Josie had the other one and kept it on day and night, monitoring me. I recommend radios. People ask if I did this in silence, or if I fasted. No. That would be too much. We communicated briefly but regularly. This was about healing through sleep and darkness—not silence, and not fasting. Knowing someone is there really matters. A couple of times Josie was out of range and couldn’t respond immediately. That part was disorienting, but only for a few minutes. Most of the time, it worked well.
light lock with vent tube going inlight lock opened upFans supplying airFood became an event. Rice, stir fry, soup, tea, smoothies, mint tea, coffee, watermelon juice. Flavors stood out more. Texture mattered more. The sensation of food disappearing into your body is pretty amazing. Food in the dark becomes its own experience, and I was satisfied with about half of what I usually eat.
Pee and poo went into a bucket and out through the light lock. I peed a lot. We also discovered that we didn’t naturally want to drink water, so that has to be intentional. At least 3 liters a day, probably more.
The hours didn’t exactly fly, but they didn’t drag either. Somewhere in there, I realized I was going to make it to 60 hours. That brought a quiet kind of euphoria. It could have easily gone the other way—I could have been bored out of my mind, or quit, or even become afraid—but it didn’t happen. I was in familiar surroundings.
It felt like alignment. Thoughts came and went. At times I was completely absorbed and even forgot I was in darkness. At other times, there was just stillness. No distraction. Just mind. A couple of times I played my shamanic drum, medicine style, and some chimes. 432 Hz was interesting, but I didn’t do this for more than about 20 minutes.
I had one vivid dream. I was interacting with a friend. Suddenly it occurred to me that I should be in my dark room—on retreat—not with my friend. It felt like a moment out of Inception. Then something shifted—the “kick”—and I was surrounded by bubbles that carried me back. Back into the dark.
I did bump my head three times on the staircase, hard enough to leave marks. My sense of direction was the one thing that became unreliable. It would drift left or right. I would reach for something and miss it completely. Even running my hand along the wall, I could feel how far off I was—sometimes by more than 45 degrees.
By the second day, I could feel the arc completing. I was past the halfway point. I was going to finish. Just one more sleep. Eventually, first light arrived. Light leaked in around the door and the light lock that Josie had opened for me in the middle of the night. It didn’t feel harsh. My eyes had adjusted. I went outside. The sky was turning pink. I didn’t even need sunglasses.
Afterwards
I would absolutely do this again. I’ve heard that 10-day silent Vipassana meditation retreats can be difficult—probably because of the sustained effort and discipline involved. This was different. This was not difficult. This felt like a vacation into the self.
About Andrew Durham
This experience would not have happened without Andrew Durham. His work made this feel simple and accessible. No mysticism layered on top. No unnecessary complexity. Just a clear idea: create the conditions, and enter the darkness.
That stayed with me.
He also outlines a path beyond shorter retreats—what he calls the 9-day retreat, a progression that includes both darkness and the gradual reintroduction of light. I’ve even exchanged a few emails with him. He’s generous with his knowledge, grounded, practical, and willing to help people find their way into this experience.
You can find his work here:
https://darkretreats.com/
I highly recommend exploring it if you feel called to try this yourself.
#AlternativeLiving #andrewDurham #consciousness #darkRetreat #desertLiving #EcoSpirituality #innerExploration #meditation #minimalism #offGrid #sensoryDeprivation #spirituality
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