Depression can be a crushing blow to our conscious mind. One moment life seems to be going along just fine, and the next we are ensconced in our own self-doubt and uneasiness about the future. The dark epochs of our life seem to come almost unbidden, and without any signs of letting up. When our world of explored territory—the predictable—is shattered and broken up into pieces of anomaly, we either let it engulf us into realms of anxiety, or use it like a magnifying glass to focus on what really matters.
Given that we can’t experience our own competence without some kind of struggle, we learn to appreciate the times we are tested the most, knowing that every dark night is followed by a rising sun. Our evolution as beings on this planet comes at a cost—and the grist-mill of hard times is what releases our immaturity and helps us blossom into the next stage of our life.
Welcome to the dark night of the soul—a moment in time where depression, psychosis, nervous breakdown, and the feelings of lost hopelessness are an everyday occurrence. I’m here to tell you that your misery may be for good, it may be a long time coming, and it may be the best thing that can ever happen for your own personal spiritual and social evolution. My dark night of the soul came during the peak of my career living inside a Hindu monastery. After twelve years of living as a monk, the dark night of my soul showed me who I was, where I was going, and what my life was for.
Dark Night Philosophy
Much has been written about this metaphysical subject if you know where to look. Essentially, the “dark night” of your soul is not just a bad day, it’s a complete reboot of your entire operating system. When we get to a certain age, typically around 17–35, we become who we are going to be for the rest of our lives. With enough data—life experience—coming from our upbringing, media, role models, community, and traveling, we overlap the young “us” with a newer version of who we are supposed to be. This overlapping, or superimposition, of old and new creates friction, friction creates heat, and the pain of shedding our old skin—values, morals, belief systems—becomes evident.
Our world that used to be so solid and sure is now falling to pieces. The trouble is that when this kind of transition begins to happen it’s hard to tell where it came from, where it will take us, and if we will ever be the same again. Losing the only identity we’ve known for years—possibly forever—is what causes madness, relieved only when the new identity takes over. The event is also known as the death of the ego, and the ego never goes down without a fight.
The dark night of the soul has been described as a Shamanistic experience by clinician Dr. Jordan B. Peterson in his work Maps of Meaning by saying,
The shamanic “process of transformation” appears as the means by which cognitive systems are updated, when necessary; the affect that is released, during the process, is necessarily part of the experience. Every major “step forward” therefore has some of the aspect of the revolutionary “descent into madness…”
Peterson’s “descent into madness” is hardly desirable but entirely relatable. People have these moments of despair at some point in their life and insanity is not a superfluous way to describe it. The liberating aspect about this topic is knowing that the pain we experience is not necessarily in vain. Your troubles may have meaning hidden inside them and a lesson to be learned at the end of the dark and scary tunnel. Once the ego is under our control, life itself becomes something to enjoy as we move through it with ease, seeing it for what it really is.
British mystic and spiritualist Paul Brunton wrote an entire book on the subject of transformation through psychosis.
The most dangerous feature of the “dark night” is a weakening of the will occurring at the same time as a reappearance of old forgotten evil tendencies. This is the point where the aspirant is really being tested, and where a proportion of those who have reached this high grade fail in the test and fall for several years into a lower one.
It’s as if the dark night is a right of passage that occurs when our intelligence is ready to break free from the tyranny of our ignorance. It certainly felt that way for me but I had the
advantage of knowing—and hoping—it would happen. In monk training, one is expected to reach the dark night of the soul, and an accomplished monk actually looks forward to the experience of ego-death. A right of passage, yes, but also a moment where the monastic candidate can discover who he actually is: monk or man. The episode brings with it a life path: make it through to the end and decide to stay a monk, or use this new perspective on life outside in the world—I chose the world.
For those outside in the world already and going through their own ego-death, their dark night of the soul will determine if they are to continue learning from their experiences, or go through life thinking “life’s a bitch, then you die.”
The Disintegration
My test finally came during my tenth year as a monk. I hadn’t found Dr. Peterson’s “Shamanistic” explanation of the phenomena until after it had happened. The text not only explained to me what had transpired, but it gave me the answer of what to do next now that it had occurred. While living in a controlled environment of spiritual and theological growth I had always anticipated the long-awaited ego-death, but had no idea how to actually go through it. It wasn’t until after that I realized we simply endure it, and it wasn’t until months later that I realized we endure all things in life, whether we want to or not.
This 10th year of my monk life meant I was to be promoted to Yogi rank, a position of great trials and inner striving. I was blessed in our traditional Hindu temple setting and given the typical sacraments: new robes, beads, and a bamboo staff to walk with wherever I went. Of course, until now I had been through several transforming periods thinking that they were all as bad as it could get—but I was wrong.
The dark night of the soul can best be explained as a disintegration—the process of losing cohesion or strength, or coming to pieces—because the reality that is formerly known and explored suddenly becomes torn apart piece by piece. What was once solid is now fluid, what was once known is now a mystery. Emotions can change due to the slightest trigger, darkness, and despair become your friend, and the thought of being as you once were becomes unthinkable, while simultaneously not knowing who else you could be.
Those who maintain their heads during the “journey into the underworld” return — contaminated by that underworld, from the perspective of their compatriots — with possibilities for re-ordering the world and, therefore, for maintaining sanity and stable life. -Peterson
For me, it lasted three months. And, it was clear that the entire monastic community knew what I was facing. I rarely spoke during that time, never smiled, not even a laugh came out of me — and knowing me that is rare. My insides felt like they were being burned, my skin was hot, I didn’t know or care how I looked. It was as if a dark grey cloud loomed over me, and inside me. A feeling of hopelessness constantly enveloped my perspective and I had to scream at times just to feel something. I remember cowering in corners at times, shaking back and forth not knowing who I was or if the “I” that I remember would ever return.
The entire process of spiritual transformation is painful, to say the least, and should change someone for good. If the subject is not transformed then another more permanent and disastrous “descent” is needed. Life has a way of bringing altering experiences our way, and if we don’t see them as enhancing—not taking away from—our wellbeing, then they will come over and over again until we extract the knowledge. This could be a theory as to why we are born in the first place.
The entire event is death and rebirth. The old is dying to make way for the new, and you remain the watcher all throughout. The subject, once appearing to make a change from mediocrity and evolve beyond what they are normally destined to achieve, feels their old selves begin to decay—during which time the sorrow of losing oneself takes place. When the world is ready for the new being to take action, the weight of the burden lifts, health is restored, and a new day has begun. One of the most challenging aspects of the situation is not knowing when it will all end and if any part of the old person will still exist. Who will take my place? is a constant wonder when enduring ego-death during the dark night.
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Read Part Two next week, here on GMP.
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