In the wake of the tragic deaths via faux sweat-lodge ceremony in Sedona, I’ve been recalling the couple of sweat-lodge ceremonies that I’ve had the opportunity to participate in.
Both were held at a Colorado Rocky Mountain retreat center, and were facilitated by a man who was, at that time, the center’s land steward, as well as a longtime (as in, decades) student of a Lakota Sioux elder. Native American spirituality was his principle path, and his training, so far as I could tell, was extensive.
He offered these ceremonies, several times a year, primarily for those on staff at the center. They were announced informally -- by word of mouth – and offered free-of-charge, always. Ceremonies for men and for women were usually held separately, and the typical number participating in a given ceremony was ten to fifteen.
The one that I recall most vividly was held mid-winter – in February, I believe. There was snow on the ground and, at eight thousand feet, the daytime temperatures were hovering around 20F, and plummeting well below zero at night. The sweat-lodge ceremony was scheduled for early evening – to be followed by a late dinner.
We began the ceremony with a sage smudging, and some very specific instructions – before actually entering the sweat-lodge itself. I remember the intermingling of Lakota and English songs and chants and invocations. The sweet potency of periods of absolute silence, in complete darkness. And the power of hearing my own voice ringing out into the steamy womb, in gratitude and affirmation.
Truth be told, I spent a lot of time leaning forward, with my head held very close to the ground – where it was cooler, and where there flowed a continuous stream of oxygen-rich air. We completed three or four rounds, of ten to fifteen minutes each, before our leader decided it was time to close the ceremony. Then we all scampered to a nearby trailer (leaving tracks in the snow!), where an abundance of drinks and hot food were waiting for us.
Throughout the ceremony I felt held, very intimately, within the attention of our facilitator. Each time the flap opened, letting in a bit of light (from the sun and, later, the nearby fire), along with a rush of cool air, he would gaze around the circle, noticing each participant. Even during the sessions, in complete darkness, I felt him holding the space, and each of us, energetically – and trusted that he would know, intuitively, if something wasn’t right.
~ * ~
How wonderful is our human impulse to “push the envelop”: to challenge ourselves to grow and deepen; to open to the Unknown; to “go where no (wo)man has gone before”! Yet there’s some kind of distinction to be made between, on the one hand, intelligent – perhaps even heroic - effort; and, on the other hand, senseless death-by-extreme-sport -- Yes?
Rituals and ceremonies, intelligently employed, can be portals into authentic transformation – a spiritual unfolding whose energy then no longer depends upon (though still may enjoy) that ritual container. The most profound result is the dissolution of our sense of being a separate self. What “dies” are our delusions. And for most of us, what’s most appropriate is if our physical body – as illusory as it may be -- remains, even more fully alive, to enjoy and emanate the fruits of that labor ….
“When one’s body is already dismantled in one’s meditation, there’s no question of death, or discarding one’s physical body.”
~ Drubwang Rinpoche, in Yogis Of Tibet
note: “onikare” is the Lakota word for “sweat lodge”
