Maybe you think, “oh, but I do hot yoga, how bad can this be?” It’s like that, but four times hotter, in a hut with everyone knee-to-knee, with non-stop chanting and a chorus of earsplitting drumming, people crying and screaming, with smoke billowing, and in the pitch, PITCH black in the dirt. I really do not like saunas, and I have to contain my eye rolls at everything too “woo” and spiritual, particularly when professed from a white guy donning a man bun and some East Asia tattoo that probably translates to “dip shit” in whatever ancient language. So, this experience was probably a good one for me.
I showed up at this remote spiritual center to see a guy with long grey hair, a grey bread, no shirt, a cigarette, and a sweatband with some spiritual stamp. He must have been in his 50s or more, sitting behind a fold out table with the tag from TJ Max. He’s been doing these ceremonies for nearly 30 years, and his wife also has. For all I know, he was 90, weathered but jolly, tired but radiant. He said Burning Man was for gringos who have no ceremony or heritage so they created something where they can all look at each other and party, though he admitted he’s never been. He is Native American and just returned from Sundance. (I thought, this can’t be the film festival I go to-that’s in January) so I asked despite my ignorance. Sundance is a sacred ceremony that’s been going on for centuries in Native American cultures which includes several days of dancing in the sun without water and food. People also “attach” themselves to trees, hooking their skin to the branches. His wife, who was also quite kind and welcoming, showed me some of her scars. She was mostly Irish, and her two “roads” she was walking were Native American and Celtic ceremonies. Other people have roads that include medicines, but that was not her thing. There were plenty of transformative experiences like the sweat lodge that didn’t require medicine like frog poison which I learned others were learning in the Amazon.
There were just 5 or so people there when I showed up, but over the next hour, about 20 others trickled in. Most people were in their 30s, though there were some older women. Most everyone knew each other and hugged and rejoiced to see each other. It was endearing, and I was surprised at the array of the backgrounds of people. One guy was an ex Navy Seal, one was my former employee at my food tour company, one women had cropped grey hair and wore khaki shorts and a golf polo shirt while building the fire. There were Hispanic people, Asian people, Black people and others. Two women about my age discussed how they were “Neo Hippies.” In the hut, however, it is pitch black so just our spirits can mingle without context of race, sex, and age. I liked that. I’m sure some lovely liberals would say this is cultural misappropriation given everyone was NOT Native American including myself, but I loved the diverse mix of people who eagerly seemed to honor this sweat lodge tradition. I thought about how messed up and sad we’ve become in believing “others” do not welcome or want to share traditions with different “others.” What is this called? When did this happen? The wife said this ceremony was for all humans.
The women were the first to go into the hut, and we had to wear long pants or dresses before crawling in. I’m actually thankful for that because the fabric helped block the scorching heat. We got to sit on a towel, and once everyone was in the hut, each person went around stating who they were the sons and daughters of, the brothers and sisters of, the mothers and fathers of, and so forth. No bullshit on where people worked or whatever as that wasn’t relevant thousands of years ago. People stated who they were praying for as well. We each got a piece of sage which helped for breathing. I thought we’d have water inside, but water was not allowed. The husband and wife duo called us all sisters and brothers and said they would protect us physically and spiritually in case we panicked or couldn’t breath. This is about the time I started thinking, “oh shit.” How would you even SEE someone fainting? One guy looked quite nervous. He was new and said he didn’t do well in contained spaces. The wife soothed him, and he returned timidly back to his spot.
There were five “rounds,” each with a purpose and several songs. Some rounds were for other people in our lives, some for each other in the hut, some for just ourselves, some were for humanity and the healing humans all needed. Each round lasted perhaps 30 minutes (who knows-it is a time warp) and was a full soundtrack of Native American songs and drumbeats. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to so much Native American music, and it was deafening and helpful to concentrate on it because of the immense heat. For each round, several wood fired rocks were rolled into the hut. The door flap was then closed, and the shroud of blackness wrapped us all immediately. Then the songs started. The heat was absurd. I thought my clothes were on fire a few times but all I saw was blackness. One trick the wife told me was to go to the ground, smell Mother Nature. It was more bearable on the ground, and I pretty much gripped the ground every round, inhaling what I could from the dirt and my little bushel of sage. I never thought dirt was so divine; I think it saved me in there. People weeped, sighed, and chanted every round. I didn’t know any of the words, but as the wife said, you can get the meaning, and I did. The wife flicked water on us with her big sage brush, but the rocks were also showered with water, which released more and more burning steam in the blackness. I don’t know how she could billow the high pitched songs so well, but she had nearly 30 years under her belt. The combination of the steam sizzling, the drum beats, and the sighs made for a throbbing chaotic symphony of sorts. A round would end with the door flap opening and more rocks were piled on.
Once done, we climbed out one by one. I felt wobbly but not parched, and some people helped the older people stand up. My heart was racing, but the wife said that was normal and good. I felt utterly exhausted and slept nearly 10 hours straight that late night. Certainly an experience I would recommend.