A Short Story - My First Sweat Lodge and vision Quest - finding Purpose in Life
There was a small igloo about 3 - 4 meters diameter and 1.5 meters high, a type of dome shaped tent made from bent branches, with skins thrown over them. There was a small flap, a door, where one of the skins could be lifted from the ground up to allow us to just manage to crawl inside on hands and knees.
Inside that sweat lodge it was Hot. It was hot hot hot and dark. No light. Twelve of us crawled in with just our underwear on. All things we did had meaning. When we entered we went to the left colse to the sweat lodge, it's the direction of flow and we all crawled colse to clockwise until we came to our spot and sat crossed legged on the earth with our backs to the walls. In the centre of the sweat lodge a hole about 20 cm deep and a meter diameter had been dug, and this is where some very, very hot rocks had been located to heat the space.
Respiration Flow Meters Health Personal
We were jammed in, knee to knee shoulder to shoulder in a space I would have imagined was just big sufficient for three people.I get claustrophobia in the smallest of crowds, but this, this was sardines, jammed hard against each other, and hot, and there was no escape, in the middle of me and the door was a cauldron of red hot rocks. I was trapped, and, heat or no heat, I started to sweat.
Then, the door shut, the flap was done by the guy who stayed face to tend the fire. It was black, really no light. Sometimes an ember would crackle from one of the rocks in the centre - but now, it was black, dark, cramped, hot and intense. And silent.
There were no study manuals. Just like Zen. No clock on the wall, no, introductory speech or flight attendant advising that, for your safety, fasten your seat belt. There was no "it'll be all over in an hour" or do this or don't do that. There's this sort of trust that if you are in here, you'll be shown the way, without all the usual sensory dependencies.
Insects found their way up and out of the ground, I swatting them but soon stopped doing that as every time I moved my arm I'd elbow a breast or find my hand on a hairy knee. It was nice and warm. Snow fell outside, but we were snug in here. Then the flap opened, a shovel appeared, and rocks, red hot rocks entered the room and were dumped in the centre hole. Bloody hot rocks - lots of them. The temperature rose, it was nice. Then the leader threw sage on those rocks and the smell was delicious, and it was also nice. Then, the flap done it was dark again. Then, Woooosh.
The leader had thrown a ladle of water on the red hot rocks. Steam filled the limited room, burning deep into me hair, back, chest. Face. It was hot and now it was super hot. I moved, big mistake because captivating made fresh steam penetrate that layer of cooling sweat on my skin. I was dripping, dripping, sweating. Then, Boom, Dee dee Boom, the drumming started, then a howl like a wolf on a full moon, the chanting started. It was black, hot, booming, chanting - oh I remember so well every sense of my body wanting desperately to leave but I was in a sacred place, and those senses were, for one of the first time in my life, not in control.
Over the course of the next two hours we exited and entered the the lodge three more times production a total of four segments of the sweat lodge experience. Each time we left the lodge, we stood in the snow, and talked as if we were standing at the bus stop waiting to go to work, banter, small talk, some smoked a cigarette, others chatted about the news. Approximately irreverent uncomplicated stuff.
There were, however, course within the lodge. Each of the four segments meant something, an honouring. Each was dedicated to one of the four directions of the compass, each direction had a spiritual significance, each honoured a distinct part of life. It was all devoted to gratitude. Thank you to our ancestors, thank you to women who bring life, thank you to the earth and more. Each direction held importance and each time we were encouraged to speak individually anyone filled our heart at that moment.
There were a lot of tears. Especially, when the direction came to women, mothers, children and self.
New super heated rocks for the centre of the sweat lodge kept arrival in on each round. More sage, more water, more steam and the heat went up, I was sure my skin was burning, peeling off my bones. Sometimes I couldn't breathe - the air was too hot for my throat - so I covered my mouth with my hand and once again poked man with my elbow.
The rocks aren't rocks in a sweat lodge. The rocks are grandfather. Ancient wisdom - the vibrations of generations past are absorbed into the rock and with the heat and water, that wisdom is released to guide us through our sweat lodge. By the end of two hours, either because of extreme dehydration or through this expected ritual, I began to see figures appearing from the rocks, hear words from indiscernible mouths and feel the touch of indiscernible hands. Not only was I imagining the future, I was really experiencing it, right there, wherever I was, by the end of that sweat lodge my body may have been sitting uncomfortably in a limited dome covered with skins and suffering the heat of scalding steam, but I, whoever I is, or am, I was not there in that room.
Afterward I was sick for a week. I'd lifted toxin out of places so deep, my body just couldn't cope, it needed time. I lay in bed sweating and shaking. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think or read or write. My hosts smiled, inevitable that this reaction was, for a first timer, quite expected, quite healthy. I didn't feel that, but what selection did I have, I was too ill to get to the bathroom alone, let alone continue my trip.
What trip? Cripie, anyone plan I had for the future when I stumbled into that sacred space, with my back pack and books was gone. My journals now looked and sounded ridiculously self absorbed, somehow, in that two hour sauna, I'd gone from a child seeking my own ego to an adult wanting to conduce in a whole other way.
The gorgeous part about this vision quest and sweat lodge is that there were no papers, no notes, no books, limited instruction, no activities or clapping or back slapping. No should's or shouldn'ts about the future, no goals or steps or milestones to measure. Naturally the vision quest was a vision, and a deep, deep knowing that All things I did from that day forward, needed to be chosen for the purpose of manifesting that vision.
There were no values or priorities, time schedules or buildings to procure in, no songs to learn or books to revere, no intellectual property to buy or tapes or web sites. Just a vision so clear that my heart had a direction and now, my job was to ensue it.
Being led by my heart for the past thrity years has not been, what I expected. I'd read books and now read some literature that claims, "follow your divine purpose and you'll be gifted with riches and happiness" - I am here to say, "bull."
Follow your heart and you'll be more challenged, more confronted, more confused, more hurt, more painful, more depressed, more disappointed, more exhausted, more rejected than for any other path you could choose to take in your life. It may cost you wealth, health, happiness, love, friendships, public status, self-respect. It may cost you everything, and maybe you'll be crucified by people who love and care about you. No, the rhetoric about following your heart is hype that sells seminars and books. The truth is, if and when you really originate a vision, find your vision quest, and choose to ensue it, you may be, at some level, production the worst decision of your life. You may be sacrificing all that your childhood ideals drove you toward.
And if this is the truth, if vision quest, and following your heart in life presents so much contradiction to our "happiness and hopes" for a nice life, why do it?
And the answer is simple.
Because All things else becomes a waste of time.
During that sweat lodge eagles circled overhead, and I had my first real vision. What I saw, was not a bucket list of all the things I wanted to achieve, not a list of responsibilities or obligations I had to comply with my societies expectations of a good man. Not a photograph of comforts and materials that could offset my fears of dependency and poverty. What I saw was the reason for my birth, my purpose, nothing more and nothing less. All things else, is up to me.
A Short Story - My First Sweat Lodge and vision Quest - finding Purpose in Life
Check Price on - Respiration Flow Meters Health Personal Products
Miter Saw Blades Laser Tool,Harbor Freight Tools,Compound Miter saw,Sliding Compound Miter Saw
No comments:
Post a Comment