Stressed out? Put on a blindfold for 72 hours and bang into chairs

The new way to make sense of a frantic world is to be sightless for a weekend. Katy Weitz went to a smart country retreat with her eyes wide shut ...

Sunday June 5, 2005
The Observer

Dorothy Thompson, the leading anti-fascist campaigner in Thirties America, had a good line about darkness: 'Fear grows in darkness; if you think there's a bogeyman around, turn on the light.'

People are negative about the dark - we'd rather have sunshine than gloom. Unless, that is, you're interested in the latest way to escape the stressful world of constant information, noise and traffic - the 'go, go, go' of modern life. If you are, then spending three days 'blind' - wearing a mask - could have its attractions.

Instead of yoga retreats, extreme sports holidays or pricey spa breaks, the latest advice for the fast-living executive is to try to block out the seeing world. Young professionals are signing up for retreats where participants are blindfolded in order to induce hallucinations.

Marie Claire recently highlighted the breaks in a guide to 'the ultimate escapes'. According to the magazine, the courses aim to open the 'inner eye' by boosting serotonin levels and activating the 'dream part of the brain, encouraging visions'.

Feeling run-down after a manic fortnight, I decided to splash out £425 and try it for myself. I was sceptical at first - until the weird dreams started. Then you take the blindfolds off and see the world ... well, differently.

Last weekend I travelled to Grimstone Manor on the edge of Tavistock in Devon, where I joined 30 others, including teachers, nurses, actors and a City financier, ranging in age from 22 to 60.

Set in 27 acres of pasture and woodland, Grimstone boasts a stunning location. But I was horrified to find our rooms were located up winding staircases and through long corridors with creaking, uneven floors. How would we find our way in the dark? We all tried counting the steps from the bedroom to the bathroom and dining room.

There were three sighted people - Simon Buxton and Ross Heavan, who run the course together, and Naomi - to feed us, help us get around and direct the 'inner journey'.

On Friday we were ceremonially initiated into darkness and placed black plastic and foam goggles (called Mindfolds) over our eyes. We were advised to move slowly. I had several painful lessons but soon became used to the small shuffle we finally adopted, hands held out. We wore whistles round our necks in case of emergency.

During the day we took part in activities involving sound, movement and writing, all designed to open our 'inner eye'. I found myself drifting off a lot, enjoying the challenge of getting around and achieving small tasks such as dressing, brushing my teeth and eating.

My dreams became more vivid and I forgot entirely about ripping off my Mindfold within 24 hours. I knew it would hurt my eyes too much and, besides, what was the point of ruining the whole thing? There was a vaguely comic undercurrent throughout the first couple of days: we had giggly and often unsuccessful excursions to the end of the garden or, out of the stillness, you'd suddenly hear a bang, quickly followed by: 'Oh bugger!'

There was a lot of time to fill between activities, so I dragged out every little task. I adored making a cup of tea - the simple operation required enormous concentration.

We paired up so we would have a 'buddy' to help out if we got into difficulties. Mine was a 55-year-old called Jenny who ran a homeopathy clinic. She was very angry with her life. 'I'm doing this for me,' she whispered passionately. 'My husband thinks this is a load of rubbish - he's very patronising.'

But on Saturday evening we were asked to maintain 'sacred silence' - this meant we couldn't even find out who was in the room with us. Suddenly, my world seemed darker. Sunday morning was spent in the garden on a quest to ask nature four questions: Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going? Who are my helpers? For the most part, I just sunbathed, until the sun melted my Mindfold and the plastic started sticking to my eyelids.

In the afternoon we were asked to invisibly communicate with our buddies to physically find each other in the room. Jenny and I were the last to pair up. By now I'd started to bump into things more and was constantly lost, sick and disorientated.

During a break, I started sobbing - everyone else had been hallucinating like crazy, but not me. Where was my inner eye? Simon told me not to judge myself. I needed to 'let go' but found it difficult. It helped to speak to someone - the silence and darkness together had become oppressive.

After that, though, something changed within me. I returned to the group for an evening of listening to pretty cymbal sounds and suddenly I felt my whole body vibrating. I was transported to a forest where I was walking with my friend and then we were running ... but now we were stags. Then owls. Then stars.

This incredible vision continued to unfold for what felt like hours and though I would like to recount it all, it's far too long and makes me sound mad. But trust me, it really was fantastic.

The Darkness Visible course is run by The Sacred Trust Shamanic group. According to tradition, it helps to fulfil one of the shaman's primary aims - to see the world 'as a sea of energy'. By Monday, as we were led into the garden to take off our Mindfolds, my scepticism had largely gone. Even with my hands over my eyes, wearing sunglasses and with a blanket over my head, the light was scalding. I slowly lifted the blanket and the sight of nature in all its majesty was overwhelming. I could see everything. From the tiniest hair on the outside of a leaf to the iridescent sequins on the inside of a petal and the minuscule contours on the body of a dragonfly.

But more than that I felt all of this too. It was like I had developed another layer of perception. Beyond what I saw, I could sense. Even now, a week on, I can bring this feeling back. I'm even considering going to the Quest for Vision course next year, where you dig your own grave, then get buried in it for a couple of days. Well, somebody's got to try it