Dark and Quiet: Two Secret Ingredients For Health

By Jed Diamond, PhD, LCSW

I was born in New York City, grew up in Los Angeles, and spent my young adult life in the San Francisco Bay area. I loved the bright lights, energy, and sounds of the city. The few times I spent camping in nature were uncomfortable. It seemed too quiet and the darkness made me jittery. But things changed after the kids were raised and out on their own.

City life became increasingly stressful. I felt gridlocked, depressed, and manic. In the Bay area as far north as Oregon, we decided to settle in the small town of Willits, California. We bought a small house on 22 acres of land. It was a time to disengage from the hustle and bustle of city life and learn to live in the country.

At first everything scared me. I was sure the bugs and bees would drive me crazy and the bears would eat me alive. I had never used a chain saw and the warnings on the generator about possible electrocution terrified me every time I turned it on. I decided I better learn to live in the wild or our experiment with country life would be short-lived.

We had settled into our new home by March 1992, and as spring approached I decided it would be a good idea to sleep outside and learn to overcome my fears…if I could. There is a small, unfinished, cabin along a windy logging road about 300 yards from the house with a deck out front. I decided I would walk from the house each night and sleep in my sleeping bag on the deck.

Each night at bedtime I would walk along the road through the woods, scared of every rustle of the leaves. I wasn’t sure if it was a bird or a bat flying overhead, but I was sure it was sizing up my neck for a bite. But over a number of weeks and months I became more and more accustomed to the outside. My fears diminished as I began to appreciate my home and its surroundings.

I was astounded to sleep outside, under the stars. In the city with its constant lights, the night sky is always rather dull. But here in the country, the millions of stars shone brilliantly bright. The moon was a wonder as it made its way through the night sky. In my walk from the house to my sleeping deck, I gradually learned to walk in the dark, turning the flashlight off for a few seconds at a time. Eventually I could make the five-minute walk in complete darkness, even when the moon was obscured by clouds.

I had always loved the dark as a kid. I spent summer nights in southern California playing way past dark with my friends. We loved playing football and painted the ball white so we could see it, even as the dark descended. When we couldn’t see a thing, we played hide and seek. Enjoying the dark again years later, I wondered how I had lost this primal joy of night and had become addicted to the light. I’m reading a wonderful book by Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark, that captures the wonder and beauty of darkness in a world inundated with bright lights.

I also learned to love the silence. I’d never lived in place so quiet. I had a once-in-a-life-time experience, the year after we came. In the time between winter when it would snow occasionally and the spring when we’d hear the sound of bugs and birds, and yes even the bears that I learned to love and understand, the quiet was like nothing I’d ever known. It became a presence, alive with richness, and its own kind of beauty.

One day I was out at the little cabin during the day and I heard a very, very faint sound. I couldn’t identify it and turned by head this way and that, cupping my ears with my hands to get a better listen. It was almost non-existent, but clearly there. It took me five minutes to identify the sound. I finally realized that I was hearing the sound of my eyelashes each time I blinked.

The thought of it being so quiet that the loudest sound you could hear was the sound of eyelashes blinking was a total delight. I felt like I had been given two priceless gifts: the gift of darkness and the gift of quiet. These gifts not only delighted me, but I feel they helped heal me. I wonder how many of the diseases of modern life—depression, stress, high blood pressure, could be made better if we had more darkness and quiet in our lives. What do you think?

Now as we plan our move into town I know I’ll take these gifts with me. They will always live inside my heart and soul and I will seek them out in our new home in town. You can help me remember them if you’ll share your own experiences with darkness and quiet. When have you felt inspired by them or afraid of them? Where do they live in your life today?

Jed Diamond, PhD, LCSW, is the Founder and Director of the MenAlive, a health program that helps men live well throughout their lives. Though focused on men’s health, MenAlive is also for women who care about the health of the men in their lives. Diamond’s new book, Stress Relief for Men: How to Use the Revolutionary Tools of Energy Healing to Live Well, brings together the wisdom accumulated in 40 years helping more than 20,000 men, women, and children.