60 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.

By 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.

Food 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.

If this sparks your curiosity, feel free to reach out.

https://open.substack.com/pub/zajey/p/my-journey-in-life-and-how-i-feel?r=7at94t&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

My latest article where I talk about Path 4.Human
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#Capitalism #MentalHealthCrisis #SustainableLiving
#CorporateLife #OffGridLife #SelfSufficiency
#EconomicInequality #EducationSystem #AlternativeLiving #CommunityLiving

What a Washing Machine Revealed About Community

About six weeks after I moved off the land project in Arizona, I got a text message telling us the community washer we used was broken and that we owed money for repairs. Not a conversation. Not a check-in. A bill. Here’s what it said (redacted):

“The washer you used is broken. It will be repaired and per our agreement you pay if you break it. We’ll let you know the cost.”

What struck me first was the tone. It framed the situation as a transaction, not a relationship.
A bill, not a conversation. And for the record, there was no such “agreement.”

Our last community in Ojai went through seven washers in seven years, so nothing about a machine breaking surprised me. What did surprise me was being held responsible for a community-donated washer six weeks after we’d already left. (Also—how does one even “break” a washing machine? You push the Start button and… broken?)

But it was never about the money.
It wasn’t even about the washing machine.
It was the shift—from trust to accusation, from community to contract, from relational living to transactional living. And transactional living is the quiet death of any community.

Welcome vs. Keep Out

I’ve lived in places where “Welcome” is more than a word—it’s an ethic.
Boulder Gardens is one of them.

Most private properties in this part of the desert are covered in No Trespassing, Private Property, and Keep Out signs (often justified as “liability”). But Boulder Gardens is different. Just today a friendly bicyclist rolled up and said:

“Yours is the only private land anywhere around here with positive signage. Everywhere else it’s warnings.”

He’s right. As you enter Boulder Gardens you see:
“Welcome to Boulder Gardens.”
Soft colors. Friendly lettering.
No gates. No threats. No barbed wire.
Just welcome.

Where people talk about trust but behave like” land-lords”, you begin to realize some places use the word “community” to describe what is essentially a work camp wrapped in spiritual vocabulary

A Sanctuary Built on Service, Not Ownership

Garth’s Boulder Gardens is a square mile of desert that slowly became a sanctuary because people showed up with generosity instead of rules. Garth didn’t believe in rent.

There are stories from the early days when he offered food, shelter, a place to wander, and a stocked communal fridge—and what he asked in return was presence, kindness, and maybe a little help around the fire pit.

And here’s a story that says more about leadership than any spiritual discourse ever could:

Once a week Garth would make his rounds across the property, stopping at every cabin, trailer, and tent. He collected everyone’s dirty laundry—ten people scattered across a square mile of desert—and hauled it all to the laundromat in town. He paid for every load himself with a pile of quarters, waited through the cycles, dried it, and returned it to each doorstep. Pickup and delivery. No charge, no fanfare. His generosity didn’t stop at the property line.

I once watched him in a supermarket when a stranger approached and said, “Garth, do you remember me? I need a little help for food.” Garth didn’t try to recall his face or make him prove anything. He simply reached into his pocket, pulled out the first bill his fingers touched—maybe $1, maybe $20, maybe $100—and handed it over without looking. Whatever it was, it was enough. Garth died with $202 in his bank account.

That is what leadership looks like in a real sanctuary:
service, not power;
humility, not hierarchy;
open hands instead of clenched fists.

Meanwhile, Back in Arizona…

Our deeper purpose on that Arizona land had been to help create a desert Sanctuary but quickly the current shifted, and we began to feel more like unpaid helpers or free labor. Our presence was needed, but our purpose wasn’t seen. When the washer message came, it didn’t begin anything—it confirmed everything.

I responded gently and clearly with a two-page letter. I explained the washer had been donated, that we’d repaired it several times already, and that we’d been gone for over a month with no communication. I said we wouldn’t be paying for repairs now that we were no longer living there.

When Worlds Collide

Community only works when everyone involved is living by the same principles.
If one person believes “shared” means collective stewardship and another believes “shared” means “use my stuff but pay me if anything goes wrong,” then you already have two different worlds trying to occupy the same land.

Eventually the truth comes out—in a washing machine, a torn-up garden bed, a disagreement about labor, or the quiet realization that you’re trying to build a sanctuary while someone else is building a fiefdom. Sometimes the whole truth arrives in a short message about a broken machine.

Communities reveal themselves in the signs they put out—
whether those signs hang on a fence
or arrive as a text message.

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https://redecker.vivaldi.net/2025/12/02/welcome-signs-and-warning-signs/

#Sanctuary #AlternativeLiving #antiwork #bouldergardens #CommunityLiving #degrowth #gifteconomy #IntentionalCommunity #relationalnottransactional #SimpleLiving

Couple retires to live on cruise ships because it's roughly half the cost of a nursing home

https://fed.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/cruise-retirement-instead-of-nursing-home-ex1

The word sanctuary is starting to lose all meaning. Take Sanctuary Camelback Mountain Resort & Spa in Arizona: a place where inner peace costs $700 a night and includes poolside cocktail delivery. If your refuge comes with room service and a resort fee, that’s not sanctuary. That’s paid for hospitality.

So what is a sanctuary, really?

Historically, it meant protection without condition. In medieval Europe, if someone was being chased — even by the law — they could run into a church and touch the altar. From that moment on, no one was allowed to harm them. Sanctuary didn’t evaluate whether someone was worthy. It offered safety first, judgment later.

Sanctuary on the Road

I was reminded of all this last year while walking the Camino de Santiago through Portugal, France and Spain. Today it’s sometimes considered a scenic adventure and people walk it for fitness or their Instagram posts. But many people take it seriously, as a walk of faith. The pilgrimage has always been walked by people searching, grieving, repenting, or people who had lost their way. And it was extremely dangerous — hunger, exhaustion, bandits — and most pilgrims traveled with almost nothing. Even today the idea of Camino isn’t a service you book online. The refugios are non advertised, first come first served, for sometimes 5 euros a night.

I’m writing this now from a place that calls itself a sanctuary, and for once, it feels accurate. I’m in the high desert an a large piece of land that is known all over the world. People come and go every day to hang out and experience the desert land. Some say a day, a week, or a month. Others live here full time. People are valued for how they show up in spirit and not by what they can offer through money. And it’s a really large wonderful community here. The is a fired pit surrounded by couches and the refrigerators are full. It’s called Garth’s Boulder Gardens Sanctuary. Garth had his roots in the Mormon church and with the Christ Brothers, the people dressed in white who walked barefoot like Jesus, with no money at all. Ironic because Garth’s father was quite rich and bought him this huge piece of land so he wouldn’t be “homeless”.

I like this one definition :

A sanctuary is a place where beings — human or otherwise — are protected without needing to prove their worth. A place where you don’t ask, “What can you pay?” but rather, “What do you need?”

Some sanctuaries are manicured and polished with people constantly busy cleaning and organizing. Other’s are dusty, improvised, or half build or run down It actually doesn’t matter. What matters is the ethics. So there is a range. But there is also a range of authenticity, where people use the terms for profit and gain. So if you’re going to keep using the word sanctuary, please just use it correctly.

Comparison Table

What Is and Isn’t a Sanctuary?

A sanctuary at its core is not a business model, not a resort, not a vacation.
It is a place of spiritual, emotional and physical protection. Here’s how different spiritual or communal spaces compare when you strip away branding:

Sanctuary vs. Asylum — Not the Same

People sometimes use sanctuary and asylum as if they were interchangeable, but they’re not. Asylum is legal. It’s granted by governments. You have to apply, prove your case, and wait for approval. Sanctuary is ethical. It’s granted by people or places that choose to protect life without demanding qualifications.

Historically, asylum happened inside sanctuaries — fugitives ran to temples or churches knowing no one could lay hands on them there. But over time, governments absorbed asylum into bureaucracy, while sanctuary retained its moral meaning.

Asylum asks, “Can you prove you deserve protection?”
Sanctuary says, “You’re safe. We can figure out the rest later.”

I think we will be needing more sanctuaries worldwide soon.

https://redecker.vivaldi.net/2025/10/14/sanctuary-is-not-a-service/

#CaminoDeSantiago #AlternativeLiving #garthsbouldergardens #JoshuaTree #pilgrim #pilgrimage #Sanctuary

Careful where you end up

I’ve had a situation recently where I thought I was entering a sanctuary — a place of peace, healing, and connection — in reality, it turned out to be a glorified work camp. The experience was enlightening, in a dark kind of way.

I really love the idea of a sanctuary, a refuge from the insanity of our modern capitalist world. There are all kinds of sanctuaries. Some are totally natural, an others maybe following a specific spiritual path. Either way, it’s nice to have a place that’s far removed from employment, technology, and the rat race. There is something about just being with natural rhythms that is better

Sanctuary is a place set apart as a refuge of safety, peace, and renewal. At its root, the word means “sacred space”– originally the innermost part of a temple where one could encounter the divine, and later a place where people could seek shelter and protection..

One of my favorites is Garths Boulder Gardens, near Joshua Tree in Landers, California. It’s 640 acres — an entire square mile — of desert boulders, caves, and gardens. People have lived there in a relatively free and creative way for decades. I spent a year there myself, so I know it well.

Garth would occasionally say that if people could put in a couple of hours of work a day, that would be enough to take care of the place, but he would never really ask people directly to work. He would always leave it as a possibility or suggestion. Many visitors didn’t contribute much at all, but others worked out of self-motivation, planting gardens, building new spaces, cooking meals, or caring for others. My own contribution was to build one new cob structure every month. Over twelve months I finished twelve projects — my favorites being the Frog Oven and the Boulder Cave, both of which were used often for years afterward. Other residents had their own projects too — gardens, caregiving, cooking, smoothie-making, whatever!

Boulder Gardens is pretty remote, but people worldwide came to visit, sometimes a day, sometimes a week, and sometimes a year (as in my case). The fridges were usually full and “free game” because short-term visitors would leave behind so much food, so there was always something to eat for the seven to ten of us long term residents. Days were magical. I remember early-morning coffee and movie nights with Garth, who gave the place its soul. Garth has since passed on, but my understanding is that the mission has been to keep things as close as possible to the way he intended.

So Boulder Gardens is a true sanctuary. because of the voluntary contributions and minimal obligations, it truly a unique kind of place. It honors creative energy, not forced labor. A place where people can rest, heal, and also express themselves.

But there’s a darker side. There are other places that call themselves sanctuaries but operate more like work camps. In those places you’re not really invited to rest or heal — you’re expected to put in hours of unpaid labor. The work is often presented as necessary and critical, but in reality it’s a shift away from the true spirit of sanctuary and into productivity.

I was at one of these “sanctuaries” recently, traveling there about five times in total over a couple of months. It was an absolutely beautiful location, and one of the most remote places I’ve ever been. While there, I helped out a lot. My partner and I completely cleaned out one house, then a second as well. We scrubbed and sterilized kitchens and bathrooms full of rat droppings. We moved mulch and put protective cages around trees. A front door was repaired here, a wall repaired there. Chickens were fed, goats were milked, gardens were watered — plus hours of travel time, the cost of gasoline, and even spare tires. We jumped to every request made of us.

But it wasn’t for me. The vibe of the place was made crystal clear when I got an email today saying (and these are the property owner’s actual words):

“I am a laborer on this land and anyone else that comes out here also has to wear that hat as well. This is get-your-hands-dirty hard work…. This is not going to be a good fit for you.”

So basically, if you go there you are not a guest — you’re expected to take on the same physical burdens as the landholder. Infrastructure projects are the focus. There is no invitation into silence, spirit, or rest, only into labor. Interestingly, this landlord has a PhD in Theology.

Finally, in the process of helping, I injured myself badly enough to need six stitches in my knee. And then that email came today, which quite literally added insult to injury.

A while back I read Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler. Written in the 1990s, it imagined what California might be like in 2025, (now!) I actually wish I had never read the book because it is such a depressing novel. People were just evil. Work camps were the norm, resembling the Russian gulags. People were dying left and right, and others were enslaved with electronic collars they couldn’t remove, collars that would shock them into submission. A Trump-like figure was fanning the flames of Christian extremism.

In the midst of it all, the protagonist, Lauren Olamina, is trying to create a spiritual philosophy called Earthseed. Its central belief is “God is Change.” Out of this vision, she and her followers eventually establish a community on farmland in Northern California — a sanctuary among the collapse of a moral society, one that she hopes will carry humanity to the stars, and beyond.

I identify with her because I, along with quite a few others I know, am also trying to create sanctuary in the midst of all this chaos. I think this is what people mean when they say “this is a spiritual war against good and evil”. Though we are not in complete social collapse yet, I do see the declining trend here. I think it take maybe another generation. But Butler has positive words also, which echo across time:

“Kindness eases Change. Love quiets fear.” — Parable of the Talents

The heart of sanctuary isn’t labor camps or forced productivity, but kindness, love, and the space to rest and grow. I think it’s a vision worth holding onto, even in a world that often pushes the opposite.

https://bookwyrm.social/book/175137/s/octavia-e-butlers-parable-of-the-sower

#OctaviaButler #ParableOfTheSower #Earthseed #SpiritualGrowth #Sanctuary #WorkCamp #EcoSpirituality #SpiritualRefuge #IntentionalCommunity #AlternativeLiving #BoulderGardens

https://redecker.vivaldi.net/2025/09/25/spiritual-sanctuary-or-spiritual-work-camp/

#Sanctuary #AlternativeLiving #bouldergardens #Earthseed #EcoSpirituality #garthsbouldergardens #IntentionalCommunity #JoshuaTree #OctaviaButler #ParableOfTheSower #SpiritualGrowth #spirituality #SpiritualRefuge #spiritualretreat #WorkCamp

White people media in the past century:

Mother Earth News, Vol. 1, No. 1, January 1970.

For good measure, this edition also included a blueprint for building your very own Plains Indians tipi.

#media #history #motherEarth #romanticism #alternativeLiving

🌿Amazing new channel I found similar to Project Kamp ✨

• Off grid, organic homestead in Sardinia, Italy 📍

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