Some time in the dark

Earlier this year I have spent over 10 days in complete darkness, with almost no contact with the outside world. It was the second retreat of this kind I have done. The first was a year earlier where I spend over five days in darkness.

To say it is a transformative experience is selling it short. I feel humbled by it. It has been one hell of a journey, literally, both times. And I feel thankful for having gone through it.

This time I came out feeling incredibly energetic, somewhat manic. Quite the opposite from last time actually where I came out very mellow, relaxed, loving; Zen-like. I think that the energetic release comes from having found and released a piece of inter-generational trauma.

This is the backstory.

My dad was about eight when the war ended. Half a year ago my dad told me a story about sheltering in a makeshift bunker in some of the final months of the war. His parents had dug a hole in a paddock and covered it with bushels of willow twigs. When the time came to actually use it, they discovered the "bunker" had flooded. My dad had actually wryly smiled about it as he related the story to me.

In the dark, I connected with this story on an experiential and emotional level. I imagined myself as a young child in that situation. It's the middle of the night. There are no lights and it's pitch black. I hear the sirens and my parents are panicking. We scramble to the makeshift bunker in the paddock. I descend into it and find myself standing in freezing cold water up to my knees. I hear heavy bombers flying over head, the whistle of bombs being dropped and explosions far away and some quite near. I don't know if I'm going to survive this night. And I felt the fear, sadness and anxiety going through this child.

In a vision I saw my dad as a five year old boy. He skipped towards me and looked very happy. He wore short brown trousers and a white shirt. He had scrapes and bruises on his knees and lower legs. I hugged this inner child and felt the sadness and the injustice of what this child would go through in a few years time. As the waves of emotion subsided, I felt the child let go of the embrace. I asked: "Won't you stay?" He said: "No, no, I have to go back". And with that, I stood up and waved him goodbye as he skipped away and disappeared.

In a later meditation, I recognized a sensation in my heart region that felt like a shard. I visualized my heart with something in it and proceeded to remove the shard. It fell to the ground with a heavy clunk. My heart felt lighter and healed. I later mulled this experience over and recognized that this shard represented the trauma that my dad unconsciously had transferred onto me.

On the return journey, I stopped at my parent's place. I met with my brother and sister separately and have shared this story with both of them as well as with my mum. I hope it helps them to find and heal the trauma that was transferred onto them as well.

In addition, I have left a note for my dad in the mailbox as I was leaving. I had written a small letter for him in the dark about this. I have not had the courage to talk to him directly about it. At the moment our relationship does not lend itself to freely sharing. I have set the intention of changing my relation with my dad by changing my actions. That is, to start sharing stories about my life and involving my dad in the way I live my life. I'm curious to see how this will evolve the way we relate to each other.