The Sweat Lodge — BigsBlogs

On the surface of it, sitting in a windowless oven surrounded by a group of chanting half-naked strangers sounded like my idea of hell. But on the morning of Friday, April 7th, Sophie and I set off on an eight hour road trip to North Georgia in order to do just that.

We were going to a 'Sweat Lodge,' an ancient Native American healing ceremony that had been practiced for many thousands of years by various native peoples from all over America. Normally I prefer to bathe in ignorance and not prepare at all for such an occasion, but in this instance my curiosity got the better of me. Thanks to a website aptly named barefootsworld.net, I was able to get a better sense of what I was in for.

When my dear old friend Sunny had invited me up I had incorrectly assumed that this ceremony involved ayahuasca, peyotene or other traditional 'visual aides' to really help you dial into those spirits. The sort of aides that your average drug dealer would laugh you off the phone for asking about. In fact the sweat lodge is very much geared towards repairing the 'damage done to spirits, minds and bodies.' It's often used as a means of helping drug addicts wean themselves off heroin or methamphetamine and even used by US prisons.

The website also mentioned that women should not partake in the ceremony if they are on their 'Moon Time.' This was probably the quaintest way of describing a woman bleeding and cramping for three (or more) days that I'd ever come across. "Go fuck yourself, I'm on my Moon Time."....I could really see it catching on.

Lodges often vary in the way they are constructed but the general rule of thumb is that they are circular structures between four and five feet in height and ten feet in diameter and contain a pit at the center that is two feet in diameter and up to a foot deep. In the east of America the entrance will face to the west and in the west the opposite is the case. Quite how people know where the middle of America was a thousand years ago is a mystery to me.

Interestingly, gatherings of this nature were illegal until the American religious freedom act of 1978. Even items such as eagle feathers were banned. Before the act was passed you could technically have been imprisoned for attending a ceremony such as this one.

Building materials vary according to tribal tradition. For example, mobile Plains Indians would build more temporary wooden structures with animal hides for cladding. The lodge we were going to was built as a more permanent stone and wood structure as the tribe that were historically more bedded down. The ceremony traditionally takes place before and after a 'Vision Quest.' Although I had no such aspirations, the 8 hour drive each way seemed enough to have this covered at both ends. Although Sophie actually did the driving so it probably doesn't count.

Ideally one should fast for at least a day before the lodge and drink water only. Some folks take this a bit too seriously and fast for a week and may not even bother with water, even during the ceremony. That just seemed plain stupid to me but apparently the closer you get to death, the more powerful and visceral your communion with whichever spirits you happen to be channeling at the time.

I didn't really want to put this to the test much so Sophie and I spent the whole of Friday stuffing ourselves like Foie Gras geese on the drive down before fasting for the ceremony on Saturday. In one day I managed to polish off two cooked breakfasts, a chicken sandwich meal that weighed more than a the Encyclopedia Britannica, most of a quiche and and a near lethal quantity of miscellaneous snack foods. I had heard of people dying during these ceremonies and damned if I was going to be another statistic.

As it was meant to be a ceremony that removed impurities from the body as well as the spirit, I took this as license to have a very, very heavy night of drinking on Thursday night and to drink quite a few beers on the way up to Georgia as well to take the edge off the hangover. I wanted to get my money's worth at this lodge so there needed to be a fair bit to sweat out at the ceremony. No point in turning up with an empty cup.

The lodge was run by a the aptly titled Tom Blue Wolf. I had been to visit his place at Emery Creek before in September last year and had promised that I'd return for a lodge one day. He was the direct descendant of Muscogee & Creek Indians and was every inch a man who radiated the wisdom of his ancestry. When he talked, you very much listened to what he had to say. Even in his 60s, (or so I guessed, for he could have been 40) he struck a figure of a man who had just been hewed from the trunk of an oak tree and freshly varnished with several applications of tea tree oil.

I thoroughly enjoyed to hear him tell stories and he certainly had enough to fill several ordinary lifetimes.

"My buddy Leonard (Leonard Cohen) recently passed on. We lived together some time ago. One day he decided that he would clear all 15 OT levels of Scientology. When he'd managed to clear them I asked him what it felt like. He said that he'd just paid $30,000 to learn how to smile and mean it."

Aside from sharing a flat with Leonard Cohen, he had also been the consultant to a number to a number of Hollywood's most successful films featuring Native Americans, including Dances With Wolves (a personal favourite). His list of achievements was seemingly endless and can be found here (http://www.mythicjourneys.org/guest_wolf.html) if you're interested.

Tom had managed to create an estate that was unspeakably beautiful. Nestled in the lush, verdant scenery of the Georgia Blue Ridge Mountains, it was every inch the Sylvan paradise and a welcome escape from the bacchanalian debauchery of NOLA. When we arrived there were already quite few happy clappy folks around. I was very curious to see what kind of person was attracted to this kind of ceremony. Soon we were all gathered in a valley and began the first stage of the process, The Medicine Circle. This was essentially each of the fourty or so participants taking hold of a 'Talking Stick' and telling everyone about your 'Intentions' for the sweat.

I confess that, to my core, I'm a deeply cynical person and only have so much tolerance for what I perceive to be BS. However it soon dawned on me that this is very much a ceremony that people aim to get out what they bring in. Listening to everyone's stories as we were bathed in rays of sunlight gently sweeping over the forest floor, I was struck by the variety of people and intentions present. Old, young, male female, Black, Asian, French. It was a strange little melting pot and I was happy to be part of it.

Most people simply wanted to gain better understanding of themselves and use the process to become a better person and to live a better life. Some were coming to terms with the death of a loved one, others were battling an addiction. The more seasoned sweaters seemed to think the Medicine Stick was a lectern and spouted a fair bit of guff about how many times they'd channeled their spirit animal and whatnot. I got the sense that a few people here didn't get much of an audience in the outside world. Even Tom seemed to doze through a good chunk of it.

In spite of the Medicine Stick bores, it was clear that this was going to be an enlivening experience. Many lodges do not allow people who are unaffiliated with the tribe to participate. Tom's was much more open to muggles and the like. He still screened people beforehand and so it was still very much an honour to be here.

"In order to survive on this planet we're going to need to realise that we are all children of the universe. We need to be one tribe. Because no one people are going to be able to save the whole human race from itself."

This I could very much get into bed with because it's basically true. On the spiritual side of things there was also some interesting science behind all the Hippie Dippie stuff. It's plain fact the atoms collected in each and every one of our bodies burnt in stars billions of years ago and have travelled billions of light years to become you. A watery bag of flesh that's alive for an almost infinitesimal amount of time in cosmic terms. A blinking, chewing, farting vessel that will very soon vanish and the atoms that were part of you will be redistributed for another billion plus light years and be part of God knows what across the wider universe. We really are children born out of the stars we see above us at night.

It's a sobering thought but one that should reinforce our connectivity to everything around of us (animal, vegetable, mineral etc) but also remind us that we are the result of a chain of extraordinary circumstances. The very fact that you are sitting here, hopefully still reading this article is a miracle upon miracles. Just read the first chapter of Bill Bryson's 'A Brief History of Nearly Everything' if you're having a bad day. I think it's probably one of the best non-fiction books ever written and I guarantee it will make you feel rather happy just to be around. To paraphrase, a huge number of extraordinary coincidences had to happen and a lot of people had to shag before they died in order for you to be here. You are bloody lucky to just to even be alive. Even for this very brief moment in the universe's history.

I do like the idea that you can potentially tap into realms that go beyond our normal understanding of the universe (even if I can't personally do it). In any case, I decided my intentions for this lodge would be to honour all those people who shagged over thousands upon thousands of years so that I can eat pizza, drink beer and be here writing this now. I also promised myself to use my brief time here in order to benefit the lives of as many people as I could, and make sure I was still having fun while doing it, of course.

Once everyone had their say, we changed into swimming trunks and diligently lined up outside the lodge. 32 people had decided that they wanted to take part so it was going to be a bit of a squeeze. As a newcomer to the experience, I was advised to stick with the outer circle. The inner circle, I was told, was extraordinarily hot and not exactly for the feint of heart.

The sweat is comprised of four rounds, or (jauntily titled) 'endurances.' Each one is meant to be pretty hard going in its own way. Although I'd been told that the first is usually the longest, but not necessarily the hottest. And they vary from lodge to lodge so there's no real guessing as to how long a session could last or how hot it would be.

"How hot does the lodge get Tom?" I enquired, a tad nervously

"They say I do the hottest sweat west of the Mississippi." His eyes narrowed and he grinned slightly.

"Has anyone ever died during a sweat?"

"No one's ever really died at my lodges."

Given Tom's transcendental view of the universe, this answer didn't inspire me with a great deal of optimism for my earthly self.

After we were individually dusted with sage smoke to ward off the evil spirits, we all diligently crammed inside the lodge. I was completely sandwiched between three men with practically no room to move any of my limbs. When I did try I almost invariably slapped someone on the face or kneed them in the back so I sort of gave up. The air was already very close and electric with anticipation. I was already beginning to feel pretty claustrophobic and the ceremony hadn't even begun. Gingerly, I asked a more seasoned sweater next to me if we were allowed to leave the lodge between endurances.

"You don't leave until the whole four rounds are complete. No one leaves once they've committed" He paused and noticed the rather panicked expression on my face.

"If you can still form a sentence then you're good to stay in." I gulped a little.

Soon the stones or 'Grandfathers' were brought in using deer antlers. Each was about the size of a rugby ball and glowing intensely red. We greeted each one as they entered. Occasionally Tom would dust them with a herb or an oil which would fill the lodge with various hearty aromas. I imagine this tradition probably came about rather soon after the first lodge once someone noticed the smell.

A woman suddenly piped up and said that she was about to have a panic attack. Oh God, I thought, here we go. We all took it in turns to reassure her and soon we just about ready for the ceremony to really get under way. A bucket of water was brought in and then the flap was closed. We were shrouded in complete and utter darkness with only the gentle glow of the stones to illuminate us. Tom began chanting and water was applied. The heat hit everyone like freight train as the Grandfathers began to tell their stories. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before.

Soon we where all chanting along with Tom. It was the best way of disassociating yourself from the fact that your body was being aggressively poached. The floor was made of hard compacted mud and remained cool. I slammed my palms down to it has hard as I could to help ground myself against the relentless heat. Prayers were being machine gunned by voices in the dark. After what felt like an eternity, the call of 'ALL MY RELATIONS' rang which was a signal to open the door. That was the end of round one.

Around me, signs of visible distress were already apparent. You could only talk if you began your sentence with 'Lodge Keeper' and the immediate request was, unsurprisingly for water. Once we had settled down, it was time for round two.

This round was meant to be for recognition of courage, endurance, strength, cleanliness, and honesty. We would need a lot of that to get through this. Fresh, glowering Grandfathers were brought in and once again we were shrouded in darkness. Another eternity of scalding heat. Then, the eventual relief as the flaps were opened.

A woman a few feet away from me had begun to freak out and said she was going to have a seizure. Water was quickly passed to her and attempts made to comfort her. Her panic was contagious and a guy next to me began to, quite visibly, lose his shit. I did what I could to comfort him but given that I wasn't exactly a veteran I don't think it did much good.

"I can't feel my legs man. I can't feel them." He bellowed. He was channeling Apocalypse Now, it seemed.

By the end of the third round everyone around me was holding on for dear life. Sunny had completely collapsed between my legs and was interspersing hearty man sobs with utter gibberish. Limbs were flailing about the place and now everyone around me seemed to be wrapped with tears and sobs. I probably would have done the same but was too busy keeping everyone on an even keel and it was absorbing a good deal of my attention.

The fourth and final round was by far the most intense and hottest. It was like breathing in molten lead and I lost all sense of time, space and self for some brief moments. Panic drifted into a sense of euphoria and it felt like my mind had completely detached itself from my body. It was an indescribable and extraordinary sense of being and one that I imagine people feel like during the midst of a stroke or a heart attack. Before I could succumb to it entirely the door was opened with one final cry of 'ALL MY RELATIONS' and then we slowly flopped out.

During these final moments it later transpired that Sunny had vacated his bladder all over himself and, given that I was holding him between my legs, me. Given the amount of liquid flowing around and my general state of dissociation, it went quietly and thankfully unnoticed.

One by one, we crawled out of the lodge like children reborn from the womb into a new state of being. Sunny fell straight into the stream next to the lodge and for a panicked moment I thought he had actually died. I sat limply on a rock and surveyed the beauty of the creek and felt completely reborn.

I think that should probably satisfy my ancestors for the time being, I thought. Despite it not being quite like Jodie Foster's experiences in Contact, I did certainly feel closer to humanity, the universe and everything in between. It's hard not to when you're trapped in an oven with 31 other humans in a space that's no bigger than a Japanese hotel room.

Since the lodge I've certainly gained a great deal of focus and purpose. Would I do it again? Probably. It's certainly not for everyone but on the broad spectrum of religious and existential experiences it certainly beats singing Holy, Holy, Holy and eating a wafer.

We retired to the feasting hall and I ate my bodyweight in couscous, beans, rice, cheese, crisps (chips), cake and whatever else I could fit onto my plate. An Egyptian lady had very kindly provided a sliced steak which instantaneously teleported into everyone's stomachs. I was going to ask if there were any beers around but then I realised that would sort of defeat the point. After we'd had our fill and bantered about our respective experiences, we slunk off to our wooden cabin and soon we all fell into a deep, luxuriant (and well earned) slumber.