Mattha Busby

The flicker of the candlelight that illuminated my cave-like bedsit in southern Mexico was mesmerising. The flame danced gracefully to the lo-fi hum of the air conditioning unit that shielded me from the scorching 34°C heat outside. This solitary beacon of light marked my transition from the relentless glare of electronic screens to the comforting embrace of darkness. As the candle gradually burned down to the end of its wick, I embarked upon a days-long psychedelic journey of introspection and sensory deprivation. I was alone in the womb of the pitch black. A daunting shudder quickly morphed into a gleeful thrill – a sensation akin to the onset of a DMT trip – before I drifted off into a 12-hour slumber. My 29 years surrounded by squinting, stimuli, electronic devices and drama was over. Deprived of external distractions, all I had was the present moment. Research suggests that minimal sensory input induces deep relaxation and a period of transformative contemplation (masturbating was banned for this reason). There was nowhere to go: The darkness frogmarched me into my inner kingdom. The NFL quarterback Aaron Rodgers, who credits his two most recent most valuable player awards with drinking the Amazonian psychedelic potion ayahuasca, inspired me to take the plunge into the abyss for my own odyssey after his four-day darkness, which made news around the world. He went in search of guidance and clarity, and emerged grateful for a “great reset”. I set out for six days and nights in search of solace from the chaos of daily existence (seriously, who can handle scrolling through atrocities on their smartphones all day?) and hoping to integrate the wisdom of a recent psilocybin mushroom retreat. I was awoken from my deep rest the next day with the delivery of breakfast through a special hatch that does not allow light at around 10 am (I had been told my first meal would come around then, with the second at 5 pm). Ravenous, I sat down to eat a hearty portion of scrambled eggs, boiled sweet potato and avocado. My food fell from my fork once and I soon abandoned utensils in favour of my hands. The room was spartan and sparse but spacious. The windows were covered with synthetic sheeting to keep out the illuminating UV rays of the Oaxacan sun. A bathroom with a wide open doorway adjoined to my boudoir where I could shower and shit. It's the sort of room I would imagine midlevel Mexican gangsters seeking preferential treatment would pay good money to crooked guards for in prison. Whether they would furnish it, like I did, with a futon, a yoga mat, a meditation cushion and a large amethyst is another question. My second day in one of three darkrooms at a coastal retreat centre known as The Bliss Haven passed in a stupendous haze of peacefulness — which, to be fair, is what one would expect at any Bliss Haven. But this hit differently. It was as if the accumulated exhaustion of my previous life was being invited to process. The total lack of light was also causing my body to flood itself with melatonin, the calming hormone which facilitates sleep, and my limbs were heavy like logs. I laid around and meditated, then dozed, before a dinner of steamed veg and rice miraculously appeared in a Tupperware from the outside land of light and dopamine-fuelled phone binges traversing multiple dating apps and YouTube rabbit holes. If my first 24 hours sound like a breeze, then perhaps it's because it was. I was in a near-sedate state the entire time. That said, thanks to yoga, reducing caffeine and sugar consumption, dream journaling and intentional psychedelic experiences, I was no stranger to quieting the mind. But in the dark, distractions vanished, leaving only the mind's wanderings to contend with. Around the evening of day 3, I felt something unlocking between my eyebrows. Some may call it a third eye activation. Fear of the dark is innate for most people and it is both an evolutionary trait to protect us from predators at night and a symptom of our disconnection with the rhythms of the natural world. But notable figures in history, from the Prophet Muhammad to Buddha, have found peace and enlightenment deep in caves, far away from the capricious cacophonies of society. Today, in Colombia, members of the indigenous Kogi tribe spend years in caves to connect with a so-called cosmic consciousness. Caves have always been sanctuaries for seekers of inner calm and cosmic voyages. Today, sensory deprivation makes for fascinating reality TV, too. Channel 4’s Scared of the Dark – which thrust celebrities including former England footballer Paul Gascoigne and ex-boxer Chris Eubank into the dark, Big Brother style – aired around the time I deprived myself of light in March 2023. The contestants undertook challenges which included prizes such as spending time in the light, which probably precluded some of the more psychedelic effects that I was soon to experience. Around the evening of day 3, I felt something unlocking between my eyebrows. Some may call it a third eye activation. In Hinduism, the “chakra” known as Ajna, located in the centre of the forehead, is said to be a portal towards spiritual insight. It followed a blur of dozing and a disturbing non-stop carousel of my life’s sexual encounters and, separately, violent confrontations. Soon enough, a feeling not dissimilar to a mild “candy flip” dose of LSD and MDMA took hold and I was upgraded to first class on my voyage towards a wellspring of serene lucidity. By now, I knew my destination was not a mirage. It was time to get high on my own supply and perhaps I had to let go of the memories of my past partners’ and fights to get there. “The blissful euphoria of quiet in my mind unfolds placidly. Slowed down to unprecedented degrees, it rests without straining to find something to think about." I asked the Taoist master Mantak Chia, who is responsible for the growing interest in dark retreats in the western world, all about this after the retreat was over via his Instagram. Through his teachings, he revived certain ancient Chinese practices for modern audiences. He told me that prolonged darkness brings about “a unique spiritual journey to access higher levels of consciousness and reunite with your true self”, and that darkness may help convert sexual energy (jing) into chi, life force energy. Was the residue of my past holding me back? I suspect it may have been. Chia also claims that the psychedelic feeling that invariably arrives after three days is thanks to a form of DMT that exists within all of our bodies. But rather than the short-lived DMT experience, this was far more drawn out – coming in peaks of euphoria and troughs of a more bland yet still very welcome feeling of relaxation. But despite the periodic sensations of inordinate joy, the next day was tinged by the deepening of the leadeness in my body. Whether it was a result of the austere sleeping arrangement or a melatonin overdose, my joints creaked at their hinges, and I had not the energy to exercise. My stomach also cried in pain thanks to the sudden influx of large amounts of carbohydrates in my diet, in line with Bliss Haven’s vegetarian principles. My dreams – which had become more vivid, yet far more whimsical than usual, as the lack of everyday stimulation encouraged my imagination to run wild – suddenly turned to nightmares. During my post-brunch nap, a gang of roosters ran riot with me, seemingly in retaliation for the amount of potentially non-organic eggs that I had been consuming. They pierced my nipples with hooks and defiantly occupied my bathroom. That was the final straw. Before I went to bed, I submitted a note through the hatch requesting the establishment’s co-owner Veronica Klassen to accompany me the next morning to the beach at the crack of dawn to ceremonially end my period of darkness. Emerging from the darkness on day 5 She arrived around 8 am, long after the sun had risen, but by then I was back living my best candy flip life, and we agreed I would instead come out early the next day – cutting short my planned six days by 24 hours. The previous “DMT” rushes had tended to plateau after around 30 minutes, but these ones seemed here to stay and I floated through the hypnagogic ether on my own cosmic saucer. For VICE, I wrote: “The blissful euphoria of quiet in my mind unfolds placidly. Slowed down to unprecedented degrees, it rests without straining to find something to think about. With the volume turned right down, you can really listen to the silence within. Enlightenment surely beckons, but what will I call my new religion?” That afternoon, though, when I woke up from a nap in a daze, I was gripped for several minutes by fear. I did not know where I was. I could not find my way to the bathroom. And I almost wet myself. Perhaps this existential dread was the next layer to traverse – after jettisoning the emotional baggage of my past romances and revisiting the fights and beatings of my youth. It subsided as I began to urinate, and the paradisiacal low-key joy returned. I was nonetheless content to come out the next morning. I jumped straight into the pool, and I was pleasantly surprised that my mind was still an oasis of calm. A year on, those effects have faded somewhat, yet my mind remains imprinted with the memory of the total tranquillity that I experienced at various points. “When you go into the dark and this becomes total,” goes one Taoist teaching, “the darkness soon turns into light.”

advertisement

Five days of darkness – what it’s like to live without light

Cannabis oil linked to significant reduction in endometriosis pain

Women’s health takes centre stage at free medical cannabis event in London

Ketamine could provide long-term pain relief for people with fibromyalgia

Unlocking terpenes for prescription precision

Ask Umesh: My cannabis clinic won’t let me choose my pharmacy

Smoke, murder and myth: The legend of the Hashashins