View blog top tagsI have been suffering every friday night when we make our weekly trip to the hot springs. The hot pool is good for a while but after 20 mins I feel faint and queasy and have to get out. Pathetic. So it was with this in mind that I accepted an invitation to the sweatlodge. My coursemates, both sweatlodge attenders back in their various places of residence, had filled me with the horror stories of when the sweatlodge gets the better of you. Bob said he thought he was going to die in the last one (from heat), and this is coming from a man who made it through a viciously strict Baptist upbringing and four years of seminary against his will. The sweatlodge apparently can be what seems like a life or death experience. Indeed, one of the reasons for doing it is to return to the womb of the mother (Earth, I think, but it also represents your physical mother's womb -weird huh Mum!) and the idea is that you suffer and die several times, shedding old traumas and baggage, being reborn and coming out fresh, healthy and spiritually clear. So I suppose with a menu of claims like this pain of some sort is inevitable.
Anyway, I got into the car not quite knowing why, and off we went. The sweatlodge was in the middle of the Bloodless Valley, about 5 miles down the road from my place. We turned down a little mud track, and followed it to the end where there were a clump of leafless trees and a log cabin/barn style house, the mountains surrounding us on all sides far away. So far, so normal. We were greeted by the sweatleader and lead round the back. There was a pit dug out of the mud with a fire roasting away in it, around the firepit was a semi circle of haybales, and several men with pitchforks wearing rural yank gear. This was alarming in itself – the redneck qotient was highly unexpected and it made me feel uneasy. One of them was even called Buddy. Then I laid eyes on the sweatlodge. A small structure made of a branches and musty tarpauline layers, it lay a few metres from the fire in the midst of lots of mud, as the ice was melting all around and making everything very boggy. It was like an igloo, probably about 4-5 metres in diameter. I don't know what I was expecting but this gave me the jitters. Big hole. tarpauline mound, hicks with pitchforks... My overactive brain suddenly considered the possibility that I had just walked into a mass murder scene, delivering myself as the next victim...
I snapped out of it and went to help stack wood. After about an hour of this, which was long enough to really accept I could be about to make a fool of myself in public if I freaked out in the sweatlodge, not to mention cause some damage with some white hot stones, we were called in to the circle – it was time. I got smudged (burning white sage is wafted around you to purify you) and got changed into my sweat attire. I had been told that women must dress modestly and cover arms and legs. With my extremely limited wardrobe I pulled an outfit consisting of a batic kaftan and Primark pyjama bottoms. Classy. Combined, these two items involved around 17 extremely garish colours. Self-consciously I waded through the ice and mud to take my place in the lineup as women enter first. I got smudged again at the entrance to the sweat, took a piece of white sage and crawled inside. You must be on your knees inside so I continued to crawl clockwise around the central rockpit and took my place. It became apparent that this was going to be a rather gritty affair. I managed to sit against the tarpauline and had one person in front of me and the rock pit so I was doing ok. Everyone else piled in, making it 17 of us in there. The sweat leader then summoned the first rocks to be brought in from the firepit and we were asked to set our intentions for the sweat. These seven rocks represent the seven foundations of the universe and are referred to as the Grandfathers. This being a Blackfoot lodge, they have various Blackfoot rituals and they asked us to pay respect to the seven generations of our grandfathers, so I got the Carnegies and Coopers in there straight off. We were also encouraged to pray for all our relations, people, animals, trees, birds etc – the whole shebang, so I got stuck into that. The hot rocks got shovelled in by someone outside with one of those pitchforks. The sweatleader threw some herbs on the rocks and they sizzled away in the little pit in the centre, white hot and cracking, and the heat began to circulate. Then after some prayers etc the sweat leader asked for THIRTEEN more rocks to be brought in. The flap went down, I could hear layer upon layer of heavy tarp being pulled over the doorway by the doorkeeper outside, and inside it became pitch black and muggy. It was pretty hot, but I was doing ok, with my back up against the branch framework and my eyes closed, just concentrating on breathing deeply. The sweat leader started some native american singing/chanting that everyone apart from me seemed to know the words to, then he started throwing water on the rocks to create steam. This is when the real heat hit. Someone started moaning and it was getting rather intense. Eventually the shout of 'mitakuye oyasin' which means 'all my relations' signalled the end of the first round and the flap went up. Two people crawled out – they couldn't take any more. I was amazed – I wasn't the first to crack!!! Unbelievable! With this newfound if somewhat unspirited boon I braced myself for the next round, bouyant from someone else's downfall. This was a matter of survival so I was going with whatever I could!
Thirteen more rocks were brought in, flap down and chanting etc then dammnit he started chucking water over the rocks again, and the wall of heat rose up and hit me like a tonne of bricks. I put the white sage under my tongue as previously instructed, as it reduces the feeling of heat and thirst. It seemed to help a little I must admit. And so on to the third round, where yes, thirteen more white sizzling rocks were brought in, and then the fourth and final one. I knew by then that I had to stay in – it would only be 15 mins max of pain and my ego insisted I try it. During these rounds people were scrabbling around trying to get low - to get their heads to ground in the darkness as it is marginally cooler there. I felt so weak and dizzy I didn't dare move so I remained upright through the whole thing. Finally 'mitakuye oyasin' was shouted by all of us in unison, the flap went up and we crawled out clockwise into the snow and mud, blinded by the sun, to sit on the haybales around the fire. I could not believe I actually made it. It was obviously freezing outside, and my clothes were dripping from sweat so I went and got changed back into non-Crazy Person clothing and came back to sit around. It turns out people thought I was especially resilient because I remained sitting up throughout. I didn't have the guts to tell them it was because I was too scared to move that I remained like that! And so there it was. I was reborn and purified, having come out of my mother's womb for the second time ever. Well I was feeling extremely hyper after all this but not much else. That night I slept like a baby though so I would say if nothing else the sweatlodge is a damn good insomnia cure.
