Love and puha
Today I experienced a sweat lodge for the first time, with the Earth Tribe here in Wimberley. It transformed me into a wet noodle, which feels pretty much the same as surrender. Mostly because it’s really hard to lift my arms, and my brain can’t think much beyond the next moment. In technical terms, my blood pressure crashed. 4 hours later, it has crawled back up to 104 / 63. Pulse rate 57. I brought a couple of kegs of Virgil’s Draft Rootbeer for the potluck follow up because I knew I’d need to up my blood sugar after the sweat, and I couldn’t be sure a “healthy” lunch would include sweets, but I bypassed the corn chips on the table, totally forgetting the salt. That was what did me in for the day.
I’m not sure how long the sweat lasted, how many people were there, what the temperature was. Something between 2 and 3 hours, 15 people or more, and hot. The inipi is about 14 - 15 feet in diameter, and low - you crawl in and the roof is right above you. For most of the sweat you can’t see much more than the tiny “stars” in the tarp above your head, and the dark outlines of the people beside you. I’m also mostly blind without my glasses, so maybe other people saw more. The ritual was divided into 4 parts, 1 for each direction, with a passing of the pipe after the 3rd part. The first half - east and south, were no problem. The fire keepers outside delivered 8 big white hot rocks into the shallow bowl of dirt and sacred cornmeal in the middle of the circle, and closed up the flap of the inipi. My head started dripping like a rain forest within the first 2 minutes, and then my arms and legs became rivers, a smooth steady flow. Outside, the slow, rhythmic beat of a drum, the beating heart beyond the dark warmth of the womb.
First we sang songs to the east, and each person said a little prayer, or wish, or intention, and we sang again to the east. No problem.
They opened the flap and brought in maybe 4 more rocks. Herbs and cedar smudges and water are sprinkled or brushed onto the burning rocks each time, which opens the mind up more, and keeps it smelling ok in there also. Closed up again in the dark, we sang to the south, and 8 people said prayers, and we sang some more. No problem.
Then they opened the flap and brought in 5 more rocks.
The west is where the experience gets even more dark and mysterious. People may pray or wail or shout things out - and today, many did, a cacophony of emotional releasing. I don’t like a lot of noise or chaos, so for me it was like channeling my inner autistic child. I put my head between my knees and rocked and prayed for it to be over, and over, and over again. Actually, I chanted “I love you” over and over and over, but inside it was “Oh my god get me out of here.”
As soon as the flap came up after that, Ron crawled out, where the fire keepers made sure he was ok and poured water on him while he lay down in the shade. I was feeling pretty worn out, but I sat while the flaps stayed up and the peace pipe went around through the whole group. I did not expect to feel chilled on a late June day in Texas, but the flaps were up long enough to cool me down, so that the final direction was just pure endurance. 4 more rocks came in before the flaps closed up for the last time, and it was meant to be a still meditation. We were being guided by the pipe keeper; she made references to cool glacial waters of the north, and everyone around me was still. Someone nearby even snored. Maybe I was having a hot flash, but who could tell, I just kept struggling for a moment of comfort. I eventually wriggled my hands out through the bottom of the tarp behind me to drop my temperature, gritted my teeth and bore down, until breath by breath, it was over. But there I was, in full resistance, my heart and head pounding, my mind begging to get out, my body squirming with discomfort, and what I was feeling was joy. I hung my head between my knees and realized I was smiling from ear to ear. Smiling and laughing through all of it.
When the flap came up I crawled out, backwards, and staggered out into the bright light. Someone held out a green plastic tumbler of water, which I immediately poured over my head. Stumbling forward, another big splash hit my back. Bliss.
Yoga & The Artist’s Way week 6
Morning Pages have been a struggle for me for several days now - I’m getting into the resistance phase where it feels like a meaningless chore. After I write about what a meaningless chore it is, and complain for half a page or so, I’ve been able to shift the conversation in my head to something a lot more positive, and carry on, even though I know I am faking-it-til-I-make-it the whole time.
Why does this happen? Is it really about the Morning Pages, or am I trying not to look at something that might be easy to shift and change if I just look at it? Am I too tired, or too busy to let myself dive in? Maybe the problem is that I don’t have enough to complain about. Or maybe it’s the large cat sitting on my notebook while I try to write.
The truth is, Morning Pages flow like life does - with ups and downs. Some days we are ripe for transformative insight, some days we are slow and reluctant. Easy - hard, exciting - dull. Life is all of these things, and Morning Pages are too.
So if you are struggling and feeling stuck, here are some ideas to get you through the moment:
Continue working on your list of accomplishments for 2011 so far.
Pick one accomplishment and write about that.
Work on that letter from your 80 year old self.
Write 3 things you are grateful for, and why.
Fantasize about yourself on a great adventure.
Pick up any one of the cards we’ve chosen so far and write about whatever comes up.
Try to answer one of the great mysteries of the universe, like… why do cats have itchy faces?
Instragram-burger and grilled veggies from my local farmers market. (Taken with instagram)
