Into The Womb of Mother Earth

 There's a first time for everything, I suppose.  For me, it would be my first sweatlodge experience...and I was moved.

Actually, it started with a weekend yoga retreat.  Restorative, meditative yoga.  The kind of yoga where even a novice such as myself could find her place.  Where, if you didn't know what a "downward dog" or "proud warrior" was, you could fake it and still walk away enriched.

And so it seemed only fitting that a sweatlodge should be a part of such an experience, set at the beautiful, tranquil lakeside resort of Falcon Trails.

We had come together, my friend Ellen and I, to unwind and take the edge off our busy lives.  It didn't hurt that the package deal included a private cottage with fireplace and hot tub, organic, locally grown meals and homespun bluegrass entertainment.  Not to be dismissed, either, was the camaraderie of a small collective of like-minded women from as far away as Montreal.

Day 2 of the yoga retreat centered on "embracing the sacred" and "grounding and gratitude."  From the chalet overlooking the lake we headed up to the summit of the ski hill, where the sweatlodge had been constructed.  The women had been forewarned to wear a skirt out of respect for this native tradition.

We gathered around the hot embers of the fire, located strategically near the entrance to the sweatlodge as our ceremonial leader instructed us in the significance of the event we were about to participate in.  This would be a teaching "sweat" as opposed to others which might focus on purification and healing or seeking a spirit name.  This meant, I understood, that we could ask questions, of which I had many.

The lodge itself was constructed simply, out of bent Tamarac limbs (needles still attached) into an igloo shape.  A green canvas cover had been pulled over the frame with one end tied up into the only opening, facing the fire.  The lodge represented the womb of Mother Earth, into which we were about to enter.

It is within that sacred place that one could commune with The Creator and find healing, clarity, peace and one-ness with Mother Earth and the ancestors who have gone before.

A ceremonial bowl of smoking sacred herb was carried to each participant and, without instruction, we all instictively drew the smoke over ourselves in a demonstration of cleansing before entering the lodge. 

The next step was to toss a small handful of cedar shavings onto the fire which housed, at this point, the rocks (or the ancesters), smouldering beneath the burning logs.   We then stripped down to our barest possible layers - a skirt and tank top - no socks or shoes.  The temperature outside was hovering somewhere near zero celcius with a light, bone-chilling wind rising up from the lake.  The ceremonial leader wore swimming trunks and I wondered at the appropriateness of that.  I would later find out.  

We entered the lodge on all fours, circling around the perimeter of a hole dug into the ground in the middle of the structure.  We seated ourselves cross-legged on a circle of woven blankets, snuggling close to our neighbor to fit 15 participants into the tiny lodge. The ceremonial leader took his place across from the doorway, accoutrements at his side - bucket of water, ceremonial pipe, drum, rattles, a collection of herbs and an eagle feather.   

The Fire Keeper, a young native lad, introduced 7 hot rocks from the fire outside into the center of the lodge, dropping them neatly, one by one into the awaiting hole.  Onto each rock, the leader sprinkled cedar shavings, sparking and filling the lodge with an earthy aroma.  With each sprinkling came a quiet message of thanks to the ancestral rock that had entered our presence. 

The Fire Keeper (Sabay - his spirit name) dropped the canvas to the opening, plunging the lodge into complete darkness, save for the glow of the red rocks at its center.  

The rocks, it was explained, represented the great Grandmothers and Grandfathers, come to speak and heal as the ceremony unfolded; there to administer to the unspoken needs of each participant.

  

The ceremony consisted of movement through 4 metaphorical doors, each door representing the 4 poles of a compass and indicative of the life experience of the human animal, from birth to death.  The movement through each door was celebrated with drumming and ancestral songs by our leader, sung in his native tongue. 

I was glad to have been bestowed the honor, along with 3 others, of the shaking of the rattle.  I might have been tempted to sing along had I known the words.  Through the rattle (mine representing Fire - the others Wind, Water and Earth), I was able to release a little of the pent up energy building in me like claustrophobia, squirming inside me from the sheer joy of the moment.  

The leader prayed and doused the hot rocks from the water bucket, raising the heat level inside the lodge exponentially with the rising plumes of steam.  

Four times the door was opened and 7 more rocks passed to the center by the Fire Keeper.  The pile of glowing rocks grew and the heat within the lodge grew with it.  Four times the door was closed again and the ceremony continued in pitch darkness.  The sweat poured from my body with greater intensity than I'd experienced in any sauna.  At times I'd pull my cotton skirt to my face, sheilding my nostrils from the intense heat and mopping up the stream running from my face and neck.

The leader spoke in low, hushed tones guiding the ancesters into this sacred place and encouraging them to move as our spirits bid them.  "Sayma," our wisened yoga instructor called into the darkness, cuing the Fire Keeper outside to throw some sage to the fire in thanks to the Grandmother that had moved her spirit.  The rest of us remained silent, awed by the intensely spiritual encounter we were all silently experiencing.  

I can't begin to say, even now, why this cross-cultural experience has moved me so deeply.  I don't consider myself intensely spiritual.  I don't prescribe to any particular faith.  I don't necessarily believe in spirits.  I do, however, know that I was uniquely blessed to participate in a rite that was as old as the earliest Native Americans.  Allowed a small window into their deeply spiritual world.  

I know also, that, for those willing to embrace the experience, or something like it, healing and peace and wholeness are completely possible.  And when I witness the plight of an ailing humanity, I believe the sweatlodge could be a panacea for us all.