–-This piece is a real time account of my experience taking part in a sweat lodge in Mexico, off the coast of Puerto Vallarta, on April 23rd, 2019–
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The Shaman spoke in Spanish.
“It is like being in the womb,” he breathed. “It is a woman.” He spoke of the temazcal, or the sweat lodge, and what it felt like to be inside the dome structure. The heat and the emotions swirled around us, and it made sense — the warmth of it all.
We were lucky, as fate would have it, to have a woman in our group who was bilingual. She had entered the temazcal last, and much to her surprise, became the impromptu translator of the ceremony for us, speaking in turn with the Shaman as he told us what to expect and what was coming next.
The Shaman’s assistant traced the outlines of our bodies with smoke from burning herbs he held in his hands. We then took another herb in our hands, or medicine, as they called it, and threw it into the fire burning outside. Our group was instructed to enter the temazcal, crawling in on our hands and knees, our skin touching the sand as the waves outside rocked in the very close distance, and I bowed my head to the Earth and settled into my spot on the ground covered by Mexican blankets.
In the small town of Quimixto, at the yoga resort, Xinalani, my heart and soul had ripped opened ten thousand times wider during this ceremony the previous year, and I was anxious to take part in it once more. This sweat lodge experience would be its own — a temazcal with a new group of people and a different Medicine Man. But the structure of the ceremony would be the same. The Shaman’s assistant would bring the scalding hot rocks (referred to as “Grandmothers” or “Abuelitas”) burning in the fire outside (called the “Grandfather” or “Abuelito”), into a pit in the center of the dome in which we were sitting, and then the Shaman would pour water onto the rocks, creating a sweltering steam. The door would then be covered by a blanket, sealing in the heat. We would open four “Doors” during the ceremony, each door opening up to a particular spirit or ancestor. The doors in the ceremony last year represented the four elements of the Earth and the four directions: The first door of the East had represented Fire, the second door of the South represented the Water, the third door of the West represented the Earth, and the fourth door of the North represented the Wind. All of these directions and Elements were harnessed to bring balance to our bodies and spirits.
This year, however, the doors would represent God, Woman, Man, and Child, each door meant to harmonize our energies. The ceremony would cleanse us, heal us, and we were encouraged to dive deep within ourselves, emotionally. It would be a time of introspection and reflection, a ritual to renew the spirit.
We spoke our names and focused on an intention. I knew in my heart my intention was to be healthy – – to be glowing health. I had been fighting chronic illness for upwards of a decade, the last four years the grandest fight of them all, but here I was, beneath the Mexican sun for a second year, continuing my healing journey.
And we began.
We started with the First Door. Los Dios. The Gods. The Gods were invited in and the heat began as the Shaman poured water onto the enormous rocks that had been brought in from outside. He threw herbs onto the rocks, creating a sweet vapor of rosemary all around us. The first beads of sweat began pooling. We all breathed slowly and quickly, trying to find our rhythm for the next hour or so.
This door was strikingly emotional for me. As an Empath, I feel energy on a daily basis in subtle and sometimes not so subtle ways, but here in this temazcal, I felt crazy energy bouncing off me, bouncing off everyone. I thought of a dear friend of mine, Kasey, who had passed away a few months earlier, and part of me wondered if she was there with me. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but I imagined Kasey and my Spirit Guides were there with me in the temazcal. The energy in the dome was powerful. Almost overwhelming. The Shaman told us if we felt a sensation or presence, it was because our “power animals” were there. I wasn’t sure what a power animal was– I had never heard this term before — but all of a sudden, I imagined mine was a Siberian Husky. A beautiful dog with piercing blue eyes protecting me.
Tears started rolling down my face as I silently asked everyone and all the sprits in the temazcal to heal me. The Shaman told us we all had our given name, but that also, we had our name that was written for us in the sky. A brilliant flash of sky entered my mind, and I saw the name Estrella, Spanish for “star,” appear. Perhaps it was just that I had heard ‘sky,’ and so I made a mental connection in my rusty Spanish that stars were in the sky, but no matter what it was that led me to “Estrella”, it felt warm and comforting. So all of a sudden, I had visions of my new name and of an animal protecting me–my new Husky friend.
I reigned in my emotions, as the Shaman instructed us to say “Por Relaciónes”. Puerta!” For our family, DOOR! And the Mexican blanket that had been covering the door was lifted to the side and the steam that was there to re-birth us filtered out and we could breathe again…
The Second Door. The Woman. La Mujer. To honor our divine feminine energy and spirit. To fully feel all of our emotions. The Shaman knowingly spoke, and our translator friend listened and smiled. She told us that the Woman was like the water and the waves. “Our emotions are like the waves, rising and crashing and ebbing and flowing and we don’t always let ourselves feel our emotions fully,” she translated for the Shaman. This door was about embracing our waves. This door was easier for me, somehow. Perhaps I had already been practicing embracing my inner ocean.
The Third Door was the Man. El Hombre. The Shaman invited all of us to honor and find balance with our masculine energy. He then wisely told us, if this door was difficult for us, it was because we struggled with this part of ourselves — our balance with masculine energy. He said our Fathers and Grandfathers were now in the temazcal with us, and previously, Las Mujeres — our Mothers and Grandmothers were there with us. So now God, Woman, and Man — or God, Mother, and Father were with us in the dome.
The heat was searing, and quite honestly, my soul overflowed as I began to cry silently, knowing my neighbors could not see my distorted face amongst the smoke and steam, but perhaps, they could hear my faint muffled breathing — a sound or two of physical pain attached to my intertwined emotional pain. This door was the hardest for me — perhaps I had unbalanced masculine energy, as the Shaman had suggested? I didn’t understand what that meant or how or what I should do about it. My skin was scalding. The hot air stabbed and burned. I took short breaths, bowing my head lower to the ground to keep the cooler air around me. It helped to a degree, but when I lifted my head back up, all I felt was thick, searing, heat. My nose started to drip and my body became a wonderland of sand and sweat and snot, my mind whirled, dizzy, breathing rapidly, breathing slowly, inviting all the spirits in the room to guide me, to heal me, to protect me.
I felt my Spirits with me. I felt them all. I called out to Kasey and asked her to hold my hand. And to hug me. And perhaps it was the maddening heat, perhaps I was having a vision, perhaps I wanted desperately to feel her—but I felt her. I felt an energy, and through my closed eyes, felt and saw a white haze in my mind that I imagined was Kasey enveloping me in an embrace. Tears rolled down my face. Her embrace filled my body with light. It suddenly seemed like a good idea to invite all of my family to hug me, as well, since they were apparently all in this temazcal with me. “Zayde, will you hug me?” I silently asked my Grandfather who had passed away long ago. “Grandma Pearl, hug me. Grandma Lily, hug me. Papa, hug me.” I didn’t stop there, “Grandpa Silver, hug me. I reached for more relatives beyond my great grandparents, but my mind was a swirl and so I just asked for all of my relatives to hug me. If animals were there, I invited them, as well. Lance, Daisy, Lola, Winston. If I missed anyone, I was sorry. The heat was maddening.
The Shaman had said this door was like emerging from the womb– the heat, the searing pain and emotion, the overflowing emotion, the engulfing warmth, the READINESS to claw our way out of the temazcal was exactly what I imagined being born would feel like.
…We are ready for this incubation time to be over, we are ready to emerge, cleansed, healed, ready to start again, to emerge from the inferno we’ve been growing in so we can make our way back into the crisp new world...
PUERTA! The relief comes slowly. The blanket is removed from the side and our vision clears. The blanket from the top is also removed and we all sigh, as the wind shifts around our bodies and souls.
The 4th Door. Los Ninos. The Child, or the Children. This door was for the child in all of us. To reconnect with our inner child and and bring our child energy into balance. This would be rapid and faster, our new translator friend told us. The Shaman sang, as he had while opening all of the other doors, but this time we were instructed to join in loudly, to embrace the child in ourselves. I sang along, repeating the Shaman’s Spanish, unsure what I was saying, but ready to emerge from the womb, ready to hug my child energy and return to my sense of wonder. I got emotional again, the presence all around me. And soon…. PUERTA!
We were ready to emerge.
Born again.
Re-birthed back into the Mexican sand, cleansed, healed, childlike, our feminine and masculine energy balanced.
We crawled in a circle to emerge from the dome, and the crisp ocean air washed over us. We were given some type of green juice to drink, and I found a shaded spot on the stairs made of rocks, and slowly bowed my head, sipping on the replenishing liquid. A wall of emotion tore through me. I was exhausted, like I’d been through a war. I started to cry. I wondered if this was the exhaustion a baby felt after being born. So many emotions. Some people from the temazcal were walking into the ocean right in front of us.
I put my drink down and I followed them, plunging into the the cold water, letting the salt and the ocean wash over me, cleanse me. My first bath by the land after being reborn into the world. The waves took me under for a moment and I let the water roll me back and forth and upright. I emerged from the ocean, salt on my lips, and the Shaman’s assistant offered water from a hose as we walked back. I let him pour water over my body, continuing to cool down my heightened weary senses. I sat back down on my spot by the rocks and continued to drink my green drink.
The Shaman looked over at me, curiously, and asked me if I was okay. ¿Cómo estás? I was not okay, but I said Estoy bien, ‘I am good’, anyway. Truth be told, I was scared. I had, at one point, read about evil spirits sometimes attaching themselves to Empaths during spiritual ceremonies… and I felt so heavy… I wondered. Had I picked one up? Would I always be ill? Had there been one with me before I even entered the sweat lodge? Had I always had a negative entity attached to me?
I carefully made my way to the Medicine Man, and tried my best in my dilapidated Spanish.
“Come se dice ‘spirit?” I asked. He called over his assistant to help. “Espíritus” he answered. He began talking about another great sprit, but I could not understand.
I tried to express myself. “Yo estoy enferma por muchos anos,” I told him. I am sick for many years. I knew my conjugation and tenses were wrong, but I didn’t remember how to speak much Spanish anymore, it had been a long time since my college Spanish classes…I tried to express more but did not know the language well enough… I drew a blank and stopped speaking. I was so tired.
But they did not give up. They tried to interpret my sentence and I eventually worked out they were asking me how I felt now, how did I feel after the temazcal? Did I feel sick?
I wanted to know if there were bad spirits with me, in me, spirits that were causing me to stay ill. I knew it was crazy, but maybe it wasn’t crazy. And I was overcome. I felt so tired, so heavy, so tired. Tired of being ill.
“Yo quiero saber si hay solo espíritus bueno con mi? Tu piense hay espíritus mal conmigo? I want to know if there are only good spirits with me. Do you think there are bad spirits with me? I tried to ask. I knew my Spanish was incorrect but it seemed like maybe he understood.
“Yo pienso solo bueno. Normal.” I think only good, he said. Normal.
Tue piense? I asked. “You think?”
“Siento… I feel,” he said. “I feel you are good. You are okay. No espíritus mal.”
The Medicine Man did not think there were bad spirits with me. I was relieved, overcome. I smiled. I opened my arms halfway, asking if this was okay with nothing more than a questioning and grateful look in my eyes, and I hugged the Shaman. Was it appropriate to gingerly hug a Medicine Man? I didn’t know if I had just broken some cultural rule, but I had hugged him anyway.
I padded back up to the room I called mine for the week, and I breathed in relief that my exhaustion was from the emotion, the experience, and dare I say from the healing?
The temazcal was an experience I will never forget. I know it is asking a lot to be healed by a ceremony, but if I felt my ancestors with me, and spirits of dear friends lost, it was quite enough. All of it was enough. And I was enough.
Re-birthed back into the world with my power animal Husky by my side, my new Earth name, Estrella, and the Shaman’s knowing words that he felt my body, mi cuerpa, was safe and okay.
And whether from the ceremony or not, I knew I was going to be okay, too.
