I am ignorant about what I don't know
The first time I heard about a vision quest was back in 2019. Someone pointed at a beautiful green hill and told me there were private spots where people stay alone for five days. Days without company and without food. They just stay at one spot, doing nothing.
"Jeez," I thought, "why on Earth would someone do that?"
Proof that I am completely ignorant about what I don't know. Because little did I know that just a few years later, I would be doing my first vision quest, and would be doing it yearly from that point onward. In this blog post, I want to openly share my subjective experience and the meaningful parts of that first quest. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever experienced.
For those not familiar with a vision quest
A vision quest is a rite of passage in some Indigenous cultures, particularly among Native American traditions. It involves spending days and nights alone in a wilderness area, without food. The purpose can include:
- Seeking spiritual guidance
- Understanding life purpose
- Meeting a personal spirit guardian
- Healing
- Information, change, or encounters are often experienced during a vision or a dream.
My first vision quest experience
It was my partner back then who did a three-day vision quest as part of a shamanic training. Her experience opened the door for me. The decision to do a five-day quest came suddenly, an intuitive knowing: "I will do that one day too." I had no clear intention and no expectations, but I felt strongly attracted to it. It turned out to be as much a horrible experience as it was a beautiful one.
Most people in Western culture who do a vision quest these days do so in a somewhat organized manner. Often it's in a group setting, where people first have preparatory days and then go to their individual spots around a base camp. This is a kind of safety measure for those who need physical, medical, or mental support.
To me, that support didn't sound attractive. If I go to be on my own in nature, then I have to be fully on my own. No support of any kind within one hour's walking distance. When I scream, cry, or sing, I want nobody to hear it, only the surrounding flora and fauna.
Finding my spot
Some days before, I walked into the hills, looking for the spot that felt best. I brought most of my water, a hammock, quite some rope, and a tarp as a cover in case of rain or heavy humidity.
I calculated that I would need three liters a day, mostly for drinking and maybe a bit for washing. So I brought three five-liter bottles. With those extra kilos, I walked steadfastly up into the hills. After a good walk, quite exhausted, I was relieved to find an amazing spot. It was somewhat hidden but had a wide view as well. It was in a eucalyptus forest, so there wasn't much diversity, but the smell was amazing.
Stepping into the unknown
A few days later, the moment came to say goodbye with hugs and kisses. People get easily worried, so I assured them I would be back in five or maximum six days. I felt the need to give myself some extra flexibility.
I walked into the hills with the rest of my gear, quieting my mind by focusing on my breath, the rhythm of walking, and the surrounding sounds of nature, the wind, the birds, and the insects. I had thoughts about how crazy I was to go off into nature like this, and on the other hand, thoughts that celebrated my choice. But as I continued quieting my mind, the contradictory feelings started to disappear and were replaced by a sense of curiosity and openness. My intention was to experience whatever was important for this phase of my life.
Arriving at my spot, I rested and then set up my hammock and tarp. Knowing the nights could be fresh, I fixed the tarp over the hammock permanently. Being shielded from moisture was more important to me than seeing the stars. The tarp also gave me a sense of comfort.
As the sun set, I finished building my temporary settlement. I put everything in my backpack and hung it in a tree. I didn't want any curious animal ripping open my bag.
Then I placed six stones close to the hammock, on the edge of a steep downslope. Nothing ritualistic, just practical. A way to keep track of the days. I threw the first stone off the hill that same evening. Five remained.
Sleep, what is that like?
Well before dark, I rolled out my sleeping bag and an extra blanket. I slipped into my thermal underwear as I felt the cool breeze. I kept my North Face Summit jacket, headlamp, and shoes within easy reach.
Then I rolled into the hammock and into the sleeping bag. The hammock felt nice at first. But I normally sleep on my side, which was impossible in the banana-shaped hammock. I had to sleep on my back. Annoying, but that wasn't the only problem.
Although my sleeping bag was rated for temperatures down to 5°C, it wasn't enough to keep the cold out in a cotton hammock with wind flowing underneath. Sleeping was impossible because I was too cold. Tomorrow I'll put the self-inflatable mattress under my sleeping bag, I thought. That will keep me warm.
I was wrong. With the mattress, I experienced excessive heat. Too warm to sleep comfortably.
So throughout my entire vision quest, I had very poor sleep. The nights were very long and very tiring. But hey, that was part of the experience. I tried not to be too bothered by it.
Releasing emotions
I felt relief when dawn broke the next morning. Still sleepy and stiff, I rolled out of my uncomfortable nest and stretched. While stretching, I sensed emotions and moved from stretching into shaking, to invite and release whatever wanted to come out.
At first I started to cry, but I kept shaking. The crying turned into screams of anger, and then into screams of pure rage. Intuitively, I started screaming to the wind directions, going anti-clockwise: east, north, west, south, east again.
As I released this rage, I noticed it was connected to how Earth and humanity had evolved. I felt rage because it was a shame how something beautiful had turned into a bleak, unrecognizable reflection of what it used to be. Such a waste. Such a shame. So sad.
Am I bypassing something?
As I went deeper into this release, I wondered if I was bypassing something more recent. What I was letting go of seemed connected to our collective history. But then I wondered: wasn't it actually tied to my own childhood?
So in the middle of releasing, I started to focus on difficult moments from my childhood. My emotional response was a big smile. I clearly realized that this rage had nothing to do with my childhood. It was about the whole flow of our collective existence on this beautiful planet.
I reconnected with my rage and kept releasing it in huge bursts of screams, still going from direction to direction. Deeper and deeper. Scream after scream. At one point I was no longer thinking, I was only doing, from a state of trance, letting go of pain and rage that had been sitting deep in me for so long.
And then, suddenly and out of nowhere, I woke from the trance because I realized I had screamed:
"Fuck your plan!"
Silence. The release stopped. The trance broke. I sat down on the ground, exhausted, with a big question mark. Fuck your plan? What plan? Whose plan? I felt confused and curious at the same time. What plan did I hold subconscious resistance to?
The message that hit home
In the moments and days after this massive release, I tried to get more information. But nothing more came. So I kept the question gently in the background, with faith that when the time was right, I would understand more.
The following days were intensely boring. Time moved so slowly. I dragged myself through the days, meditating and trying to get some sleep. Every morning I threw one of the remaining stones off the hill.
Then, in a moment of meditative boredom, I received a clear message. I heard it the same way I receive communication during out-of-body experiences, not a voice in my ears, not a thought I generated. Just a message arriving. Clear and unmistakable. The source wasn't visually present, but the knowing was absolute.
The message said:
"You have to be in peace and acceptance with all experiences, past and present. Always."
Boom. That message didn't feel like a friendly suggestion. It felt like a clear order from one of my spirit guides. A strong directive. It didn't answer the question about the plan. But it told me clearly what I needed to do first.
Ending my vision quest
When I threw the fifth stone away, I realized I was completely out of energy and that it was good to walk back that same day. Maybe the next day it would be too hard. It aligned with my intuition.
Slowly, I took down the tarp and hammock. I stacked everything into my backpack, it took me ages to organize. Finally, I thanked the spot and nature for having me, and left the sixth stone where it lay. I closed my vision quest.
The return
I stepped into the door. My partner and our kids were having a late lunch. Everybody was happily surprised, but then my daughter (seven years old) started to cry. The other faces showed worry as well. I had lost a lot of weight. They sensed I was completely out of energy.
I whispered "Hi." My throat was still sore from all the screaming on that first day, my voice was not yet activated. I gave hugs, and then there were silent looks. That was enough. They left me in silence. After some gentle food and a nice tea, my voice came back slowly and my throat healed.
After
The quest ended, but the directive didn't. I dedicated myself to getting into peace and acceptance with what is and what was.
For many months and many nights, around 3 AM, I did a specific guided meditation called Healing Heart from the Monroe Institute. In that meditation, there is a free-flow moment, and that moment became an important doorway. Not metaphorically. Literally.
During the free flow, I would ask myself: "In what past experience, or where can I be present from the loving and caring state I'm currently feeling?"
This would project me into past experiences, from my current life as well as past lives. Not to change them, but to bring or radiate loving presence.
As I deepened the practice, I found myself healing and accepting not only my own past but also recovering soul fragments from past lives that weren't completely finished. The directive, peace and acceptance, applied across lifetimes.
The question, "Fuck your plan, what plan?", stayed in the background for months. I didn't force it. But I dedicated myself to finding the answer.
During a later OBE, I intentionally expanded my awareness. I connected with my Total Self. I asked everywhere I could. And then I met a guide who explained the plan to me. I was shocked at first. I understood my initial resistance, but then I accepted it. And I asked what I could do to support the plan.
That answer, however, is a different story, one I'll maybe share in a future post. It is related to where we are heading with our human experience, and I still need to find the words to properly describe it. So please bear with me.
What changed after
If you're considering a vision quest or any deep solitary practice, here's what I now do differently based on that first brutal, beautiful experience:
1. Ditch the hammock.
I now use a tent with a proper mattress. This works best for me and does not interrupt the flow of things that need to be experienced.
2. Use the first days for setup.
On my current annual vision quests (5–6 days), I don't try to force anything. I take the first days to arrive in the place completely, doing grounding work and going silently inward in a gentle way. By doing that, I build up the energy and intention for a prolonged (2–3 hour) OBE on day 4 or 5.
3. Accept before you think of changing.
Our ideas of changing something often result from resistance to what is. If we allow ourselves to accept first, then often change comes naturally, it shifts easier, or change is no longer needed.