HEALING CEREMONY
I Learned to Pray in a Sweat Lodge
Hell to heaven in an instant
“It’s going to be hot. It’s going to be uncomfortable. You’ll probably want to go tearing out of there,” he said, amused at the thought.
Ezra prepared me for my first sweat lodge.
“How you deal with the heat, the discomfort? You pray.
“What I mean by pray is that you bring it in.
“Oh, you’ll learn how to pray in there,” he affirmed.
Since I’d first heard about sweat lodge, it intrigued me. I wanted to be a part of the healing ceremony and Ezra, who would lead us, had invited me to participate.
As it approached, I was scared: of the heat for sure, but also of something I’d never done before.
At dusk, in the forest of Douglas fir, we walked clockwise around the chest-high lodge before going it. The door was opened and on hands and knees, I crawled to my place. There were six of us at ceremony that evening.
Inside, as the red hot stones were brought in one by one, it heated up. With each stone, we prayed.
With each scoop of water poured over the stones, that sizzling sound and steam clouded the space. As it heated up, it became suffocating, hard to breathe.
Though I hadn’t ever felt claustrophobia before, I was beginning to feel it now: the heat, the steam, the confined space. It was all I could do to stay; I wanted to shoot out of there, which would have involved climbing over others on my way to the door.
Then I remembered what Ezra had said: pray. So I prayed. I brought it in. Using my hands in a circular motion, I brought that intense heat into my heart center, into my body.
And in that holy instant, the fear subsided — the heat, the claustrophobia — fell away.
I was stunned at the speed of the response and I felt that I could easily have taken another ten degrees.
I felt safe, at peace — through that simple, desperate prayer, through simply bringing in the heat, the fear, the claustrophobia.
A few months later, I had a date with some guy who I was desperately in “love” with. I did my makeup, my hair with extra care and drove to where we’d agreed to meet.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Then that sinking anxiety, that constriction, that awful realization that he had stood me up.
The drive home: wretched. Conflicted, but not conflicted — I was clear that though there were all of these tense, desperate feelings, I didn’t want to be with him. I had learned a lot from him but I knew that it could never work between us.
When I got home, I was wrecked, emotionally drained. I lay on the sofa and closed my eyes.
Percy, a beautiful white kitty, climbed up and lay on my chest. Our breathing synced. This was a new experience: I could feel him gently pulling the dread, the desperation from me.
And I remembered to pray. I brought in all of those awful feelings, all that I had been resisting.
And again, in that instant, I was completely relieved of the suffering. Not only relieved of the suffering but in that moment, I’d gone from hell to heaven.
For three full days, I was in the most exalted, magical, marvelous place. Or it was in me. Or it was me.
My sister remarked on it. My friends remarked on it.
Everyone wanted to be there too.
I wish I could report that all prayers since then have been answered with the same brilliant state. They haven’t. But when I’m really able to turn a situation over, there is always peace.
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