tamascal

if you thought carnival was a crazy experience, wait til you read about this...

tamascal is the "swest lodge" affiliated with aya huma, the hostel we have been staying at in peguche. but having now survived my first sweat lodge experience, I really don't think that name does it justice...

I suppose another disclaimer is in order before I begin this story: for the duration of what I am about to describe I felt very calm, relaxed, and surprisingly at peace given my type a personality that usually clashes with situations like these that are so far out of my control. but this was an incredible experience unlike anything I've done before and I loved it - truly found it to be a priceless moment in my life that I will never forget. so I'll write about it, and you can interpret it how you will, but keep in mind what I insist here - it. was. awesome. :)

as our group of 15 gathered around the mud dome, I could feel my nerves in my empty stomach (we were told not to eat after breakfast today). this has been built up since the day we arrived in peguche and I wasn't sure what to expect. about 4pm we filed into the "sweat lodge", soon to be more appropriately introduced to us as 'mother earth's womb' - that name just seemed to fit better. I was freezing after being soaked to the bone for the majority of the day and thus welcomed the dark enclosed space that held the promise of warmth - I just wasnt sure of how much. there were enough of us that we needed both an inner circle and an outer one - I found my place on the far side away from the door (where the more claustrophobic members of our group sat, unsure of how they would handle the coming events), and contently settled into a back row place on the woven mats- which I would later be very thankful for (the back row place, I mean - I remained pretty indifferent to the woven mats throughout). we were informed that the ceremony would happen in 4 sessions: air, water, fire and earth. a different number of scalding hot rocks would be brought in from the fire outside for each session. there was meaning to everything, which would be explained as we go along. I was more nervous than before... should I move closer to door? no, I found my peace and went with the exprerience...

this is what it was like for me:

air: 7 stones -
I see the fire burning outside the dome. it looks as though the world is ablaze because it is all I can see from the small opening across the way. a chicken walks by, disinterested in the contents of the dome. the air is clear inside and I can see the architecture of this structure. long bent poles crisscross at the apex, decorative fabrics hang from the cross-bridging. mud is packed on this backbone and is hard as concrete.  I hear the scrape of the stones being slid into the center by a rake. the man who tends to the fire selects the stones, as big as watermelons, and delivers them to our temescal leader, a thin caucasian woman with a thick accent. I hear the clink of the antlers in her hands as she uses them to pick up the rocks and place them into the center pit of the dome. I hear the hiss of their heat... I hear her comforting words talking about the air, but I am distracted because we are passing around liquid tobacco meant to be snorted (first through the left nostril, then the right), and I'm unsure about this part of the ritual, but is relatively scentless and it is part of the experience... not as bad as it sounds. the puerta to the womb is closed with several blanket tucked tightly so that no light seeps in and now... now I see nothing - not even my hand in front of my face, which I tried several times to examine hoping my eyes would adjust, but there was simply no light, and so I closed my eyes, having no use for them open (and already feeling burning from the smoke), and let my other senses take over... I hear the urgent hiss of water turning to steam as she spoons more and more onto the hot rocks. I feel the heat of the steam overtake my cold body and hope for more. I smell something calming and lovely, perhaps reaching my nose via water vapors...? I hear chanting in a language I don't understand, but I don't mind because it sounds nice and I like the instruments that accompany it. I feel the cool splash of water every so often as she scoops more onto the stones, and I welcome it, wondering why it isn't hotter after splashing off of the scalding rocks. I sit relaxed, my breathing unlabored, and can't help but think about the zoo exhibit where the alligators and crocodiles are kept - as humid as a true rainforest; I always loved that exhibit. I reorient myself to the present. leah is next to me and I hear her whisper 'I can't do this'. I feel for her hand in the abyss of darkness and when I find it I hold it gently, hoping to help calm. she is in her head though and soon needs to make her way toward the door to escape, or at least for the security of the proximity of escape... we are now saying prayers, hopes, wishes, dreams - outloud or in silence. I think simply: I hope, for everyone, that everything turns out as it is supposed to in these coming months of turmoil in our lives. I think briefly of the match and the stress and the unknown, and I am so thankful to be detached from it, here in a place where I am reminded to put my concerns into perspective daily. it is difficult to fret about anything when the people around your are concerned with the most basic of things: food, clean water, medical care if they require it, etc. I hope also to hold onto this perspective, to bring it back with me when I come home and to live a little differently because of it... our air session is drawing to an end and we are being told how we will get the door opened... I don't feel strongly either way, I am so relaxed and finally starting to warm up, but the water session is on the way and im curious just how much more moisture this air can hold... 

 water: 9 stones -
we all yell la puerta (the door) as one and I hear the quick footsteps of our outside helpers, jumping to our rescue. as the light pours in I realize I still can't see much, the room is so full of steam. we have a moment of yearning for the fresh air outside and then, all too soon, the new batch of stones is being delivered to our space... I count the scrapings of the rake on the concrete floor until we get to 9. I can feel the heat radiating off of these rocks, fresh out of the blazing fire, and they glow orange in the darkness of the womb. there are two young women assisting with the ceremony and each time a new rock is placed on the pile they sprinkle different herbs onto it in turn. I see the glowing embers of these herbs, sparkling bright on the faintly orange stones; smoke rises and they burn to ash atop the rocks. I smell the herbs, some unfamiliar, others not - lavender? sage? the smell is calming and after the mild first session I am already chilled and ready for water to begin - I am a pieces after all ;) the door closes and we're left in the same drowning blackout. I am excited now, all feelings of nervousness washed away by the pleasant steam and smells of the air session. we begin with the chanting and then transition to a song she teaches us. "we are born from the earth, and to her we will return; like a raindrop, flowing to the ocean"... we sing it 4 times as she throws more and more and more water onto the stones. the steam is thick and I get the sensation that I am breathing under water; but I relax as she has reminded us to, and tell myself I am fine, which I am.  I feel the condensation collecting all over my body and pooling to drip down my face and back. it also drips from the ceiling and in that moment I realize we have made it rain in our own little biome (wc?)... how cool!? and suddenly my ears, hearing heightened by the lack of visual input, appreciate rain drops on the roof itself. the weather outside is following along. our water session is all about emotions and she talks about this in her accent, with occasional mispronounced words or poor translations that only make what she is saying sound more profound. I love it in here, everything seems so clear amongst the steam; oh the irony. we sing 'let it be' as a group and despite the heat, now quite overwhelming, I have goosebumps.  I hear the instruments and the pretty voices of my fellow travelers somehow finding harmony between the lulls to humming when we can't remember the lyrics - but our chorus is strong and I sing along softly... I feel the warmth beneath my skin, which reminds me of that sensation a few blocks into a run; though I can't be certain (for it is disguised by the tremendous amount of condensation covering me), I believe I have started to sweat. my heartbeat has quickened ever so slightly and I think it is probably compensation for the loss of blood volume... or just nerves setting in again as I wonder what fire will feel like. our session comes to an end too soon and with a "la puerta" the light comes blaring into the womb...

 fire: 13 (!!) stones -
13 stones, far too many, are piled into the center pit, throwing off a tremendous amount of heat and glowing threateningly - this session already has a different feel. fire is about us, our person, and, in short, about how life is what you make it. we follow the same routine: snort tobacco, close la puerta, and listen to the hiss of liquid turning to gas. the room is already so hot and I can feel the stress, sense it, rise in my friends around me. I bow my head to the floor searching for some relief to help my breathing. staying calm is essential, as soon as you panic you kick up your heart rate and hasten your breathing and everything in your logical brain will tell you you're drowning. I maintain my peace and try not to imagine the condensation forming in my bronchial tree with each breath... during the past sessions the floor had been a safety net for me; I knew that if I needed it I could retreat there. now I had no reserve and so I fought to stay calm as I sucked each breath through my teeth (advised by our leader as a way of cooling the air and filtering the moisture - it helps ever so slightly). the chanting calms me more and soon I am resting on the floor somewhere between awake and asleep with my mind racing... or wait empty...? I hear her through the splashing and steaming of water and vapors: she prays. she prays that we are able to separate ourselves enough from our patients that we can give them great care, for if we let each patient bring us down with their illness and suffering, we ourselves will not be well enough to give them the care they need. the rest of our lives we will be taking on these bad energies, and we need to learn to deflect them so that we can keep our positive healing energies strong... we have been consumed by fire for quite some time now, and I feel as though this session must be drawing to an end. it is at this moment that I hear her warning, "it is going to get hot, but only for a minute", and her voice is so reassuring that I just relax further and wait. there is frantic splashing of water and the dramatic hissing of steam and I quickly feel the heat when it seemed as though we were already at a temperature extreme. my skin begins to prickle and I fight hard not to react to the pain. but it is clearly pain on my entire body now and suddenly I could care less about my breathing because I am wondering if my skin might scald off... have you heard that if you place a frog into boiling water he will leap out, but if you put a frog in cool water and bring it to a boil, he will meet his fate sitting there? I felt like that second frog and wondered if people ever leave this experience with actual burns. fortunately I was somehow still feeling safe and calm pressed to the cool mats; this was not so for everyone. in that moment of true fire people lost their composure, and all it took was one of our travelers to yell out in anguish, and then it seemed as though half the group lost it and you could hear the desperate pleas of voices in the dark begging for the door to be opened... the catch is, in that moment it is not so simple... our leader stopped with the water and calmed everyone, the burn dissipated slightly. she said we would open the door but that everyone needed to stay still. with so much fiery moisture in the air it burns hotter if you move. we were all trapped, and those who thought they couldn't compose themselves and stay still were forced to. when the doors opened (both now, one on either end) there was no instant relief as before. instead the steam rushing past toward escape burned my skin further. I waited. the cool air fought to enter, displacing the fire vapors in the womb. I felt my body sink further into the ground, truly relaxing now that the pain was over. three down, one to go.

earth: 7 stones -
we passed around small glasses of cool water; I savored the replenishment. this replaced the tobacco (thank goodness), but all too soon the door was closing again. after fire I did not find the hissing of the water on the rocks to be as enjoyable of a sound as before; rather, it meant the air was heating and I didn't know how much. my heart rate is considerably above baseline now and I know it is because I am dehydrated. we sing "I feel mother earth beneath my feet, I feel her heartbeat", and this session has environmental undertones for me and I go all oregonian and get sad about how cruel we are to this planet, how wasteful, how destructive. I think about everything I learned about in my many environmental studies courses and I remind myself the things I can do to have a smaller footprint. this session is drawn out and I am exhausted and feeling thirsty and hungry all at once. as it draws to a close, anticlimactic compared to fire, I think what a lovely and enlightening experience this has been. la puerta opens at our request and we crawl into the night, for it is dark now, and many of us are too lightheaded to stand.

I wander to the shower they offer so that we can rinse away the impurities cleansed from our bodies by the ceremony. the cold water feels amazing and once I am thoroughly clean I go stand by the fire, my skin still steaming with the warmth from mother earth's womb...