After recent weeks of sweltering heat and humidity, you might think I had enough of sweating. But when the opportunity arose to take part in a ceremonial "sweat" with friends who live on the Wicomico River in Maryland, I jumped at the chance.
I had heard other friends talk about "Sweat Lodges" and what a purifying and spiritual experience it was. Always open to new avenues to 'enlightenment', I was anxious to find out first hand what this Native American practice had to offer to a Westernized white woman like myself. Besides, I had missed an earlier opportunity to take part last November, and didn't want to turn down my friends' kind offer again. They may not offer a third time.
First of all, it is an honor to be asked to share in this ceremony. It means you are trusted to be a kindred spirit, a person who is aware of the power of ritual and prayer and one who is not afraid to open themselves up. Secondly, my petty nature reminded me that my husband had made the last 'sweat' and I do hate for him to be one up on me.
On the ride to the sweat, I said, "Please don't make me feel like I'm not tough enough if I can't tolerate the entire ceremony." I was already perspiring in the 90 degree heat. "No problem if you have to 'weenie' out," he says with a grin. That issue settled, we arrived at our friend's farm house, which sits graciously on a bend on the deep, dark and slow-moving river. The river gives a timeless sense to the land around it, and that sense affects you, when you are there.
And.. a feast for the senses as we wandered into the kitchen, where preparation for the "feed" as our hostess called it, which follows the ceremony, was underway.
After depositing my offering of Blueberry Buckle to the kitchen countertop, I grabbed my camera, armed myself with bug spray and decided to take a walk down to the lodge site, where the fire was already cooking the rocks to be used for the ceremony. I walked cautiously through trodden downed grasses, swatting at flies big enough to carry me away, down toward the river. As I rounded a bend in the path I caught site of the Lodge,
several people sitting
outside it, and a woman with a big pitchfork tending a fire with
cantelope sized rocks piled within it.
I was welcomed to the site with a bundle of burning sage to purify myself, and inhaled deeply as I waved it along my body from head to toes. I then moved over to the fire, planning to ask the woman who was leading the 'sweat' if she minded if I take pictures. I wasn't sure if it was considered taboo. She read my mind, smiled, introduced herself, and said, "Take as many pictures as you like." Then she asked if I would like an explanation and history of the ceremony in which we were about to partake.
She explained that the ceremony of a sweat may differ somewhat from one Native American tribe to another, but that the basic set-up was the same, as well as the intention, which is rebirth. The lodge itself, was situated in direct line with the West and the setting sun. It opened toward the East, symbolizing a new beginning. About three feet in front of the opening, was a circle of stones containing a variety of other rocks, bleached animal bones, spanish moss, burning herbs, flowers; all momentos or special gifts placed for offering by the participants. That, I learned, was the altar, and was asked to imagine it being connected to the lodge, as if by an umbilical cord. And then, of course, right behind the altar the fire was built to heat the rocks which would be used to bring about our journey. All birth is reached through labor, and the sweat the rocks would produce becomes that sacrifice and test of endurance.
We watched the sun set in silence, a huge orange ball spreading out over the cornfields. Then Kim, our leader, called us into the lodge. We crawled in on hands and knees, and I was relieved to feel the softness of blankets to keep us up off the sharp grass. In the center of the lodge a pit had been dug out. Two people volunteered to carry the rocks by pitchfork and deposit them one at a time into the pit. With each arrival, Kim reached from her bag of herbs to sprinkle some on top. Pungent and sweet smells started to fill the lodge. When six were in place, the flaps to the opening were closed leaving us in pitch darkness. Kim welcomed us to the first of four sweats we would pass through before the end of the ceremony. We began with the East, the place of beginning: The Self.
Kim started the circle of prayer, prayers for ourselves. With each request of the Great Spirit; strength, wisdom, love, she would sprinkle water on the rocks. I could feel the steam begin to rise and fill the lodge. The sweat started to run down my body in streams and soon, I could only concentrate on what was within me and enduring the heat. When one person had finished their prayer, they said "Ho" to let us know it was the next persons turn. Sometimes, if they had asked for something you yourself needed, you would give a "Ho" in agreement. When the circle was completed, Kim led us in chants. Chanting loudly helped to keep the focus off the heat. Finally, Kim said it was time to go out and revive ourselves for the next round.
I crawled back out into the early night air and immediately felt the rush of coolness on my skin. We gingerly picked our way through more brush to the river bank and then slowly slipped into the water. Although the temperature was tepid, it felt wonderful. An osprey cried out at the intrusion of it's space. Stars spread out from one end of the sky to the other. And most magically, phosphorous, excited by contact with our bodies, glowed like stars in the water all around us. Refreshed by the river and after drinking more water, we went back into the lodge for our meeting with the South.
The South phase of the sweat is for family and friends. Once again we prayed and sweated and reached deep within ourselves. Once again, we emerged from the lodge to prepare ourselves for the next two rounds. The third sweat was for the West, our teachers and mentors. And the final stage was for the North, for the great Mother Earth. We prayed for the Mother's healing. We prayed that all of her children may love her and respect her, so that life on her may continue. We prayed for the politicians and leaders to remember how all life begins and ends with the Mother.
With mighty cries and yelps of happiness and birth, we left for the final time, the womb. For awhile, all we could do was stand and be silent, drinking in the night air, the beauty of the river, the stars, and of course, drink heartily from a jug of water which we passed around. I felt like a wet noodle. My legs wobbled when I tried to walk.
Then we collected our wet towels, our offerings from the altar, and made our way back to the house. In hunger, made ravenous from the "birth" we feasted on delicious foods, all fresh from our good green earth. We each had a beer, brought back from Montana by Kim and our hostess. And we all laughed and talked and ate voraciously, filled with well being.
On the ride back home, that feeling of well being filled me still. I knew that I had cleaned my body of impurities and filled my soul with pureness. I looked over at my husband, and smiled, and just had to mention, that I had been able to stand the rigors of the sweat. That competitiveness, is perhaps, the next part of my nature I will ask the Great Spirit to help me with.
