El Temazcal

Temazcal - a traditional sweat house from the La Cota population in the US and Canada.
We built the fire with Senora Patty, who was to be our guide for the two hour ceremony. We chugged water and nibbled on oranges as we waited for the rocks to heat up, and then lined up evenly dispersing guys and girls in a semicircle. She swirled smoke around each of us and handed us a pinch of tobacco - an herb that was traditionally seen as a sacred plant that helps bring our prayers to God (gods?). We said a quiet prayer of dedication and what we wanted cleansed and then threw our tobacco onto the fire. Patty said that the Temazcal represents a mother's womb - hot, damp and dark. So we were entering the womb of Mother Earth being heated by the fire, which was Father Sun. One by one we crawled clockwise into the circular temazcal and sat around the rim of the structure facing the small hole where the hot rocks go.

The first session wasn't so bad - it reminded me of the sauna at the YMCA or up at the lake in Minnesota - very refreshing, and only slightly uncomfortable. Each session was dedicated to a direction, and a phase of life. Childhood - why are we here? What do we want to gain from this experience? I said that I seek connection, purpose and patience.

In youth, with 5 more hot rocks, we are idealistic and hopeful, we are have the a fire within us. Each of the four sessions had a series of chants sometimes in Spanish, other times in indigenous languages: Earth is our body, water is our blood, wind is our food and fire is our spirit. With this phase Patty asked what we want to cleanse with this process. I asked for my fears to be replaced with trust. And I secretly hoped everyone would talk faster so could get to the next phase and open the door.
Now the mental game began. I thought of Mr. Pinner, my karate teacher from Florida. When we were practicing our splits, he used to pick us up by our belts and then slowly set us down deeper into the splits. If I fought it, my legs would shake and my insides would scream. Here, I began to rock and rub cool dirt on my legs, but as I focused on my breathing and eased into the heat, my tension eased. I realized there was no differentiation between my body and my sweat - I remember thinking that it felt like my body was raining.

When she opened the door a third time, some of the students stepped out. Many of us turned over and put our faces to the dirt. We had just spent Ash Wednesday up on a mountain at a hermitage. I attended mass with the group, but I was the only one who did not receive ashes on my forehead. I thought of this as I put my face on the earth. I inhaled the cooler air of the lowest possible level of the atmosphere - these are my ashes. I sat up as she added more hot rocks to begin the third phase of middle age: when we bear fruit and sometimes begin to take life too seriously in relation to the vivacity of our youth.  When we began to chant, and I found myself in sync with the rhythm and tones of some language I'd never heard before. As Patty asked us what we wanted to dedicate our energy to, I put everything I had in me towards my dad's mom; may she have the strength and courage to make this decision about surgery, and have faith and courage about whatever it brings. This time we were given herbal tea - warm water infused with rosemary - to pour over our heads. I started rocking back and forth and for some reason I wanted to cry. My face contorted, but I think all of my tears had poured out of me through my skin, and any moisture that wasn't leaving through my pores was coming out of my nose. I thought I had nothing left.

The final phase was old age - when our bodies often times can't keep up with our spirits. My head was starting to hurt. Almost everyone who hadn't stepped out was lying flat on their backs. We were almost there.What are we grateful for in this long journey? What do we want to pass along? I am grateful for the energy and all of the beings who have contributed to the character of my soul, may I be able to give just as much back both in this lifetime and after. Miss Patty threw cooler water on us after we spoke, and it hissed as it evaporated.  We sang another chant about coming from the goddess and returning to the ocean like a drop of water. I think that some of the group (a Catholic organization) struggled with this concept, and a lot of the language like this. But just as I could relate to some aspects of their mass service, I felt able to connect to the rituals and words that accompanied this ceremony. I am a walking limbo of spirituality.

When we emerged I felt naked in a way, like I was literally a (very gangly) baby emerging from a womb into the sunlight. We each crawled to an open space and laid resting in the sunshine until we felt strong enough to stand and rinse off. I don't think I'll do this every week like Ms Patty, or even every time that a group elects to participate in this ritual, but it was one of the most powerful experiences I've had in a very long time, and I'm glad to share it with you.

There were a lot of other cool things about this week - foods, people both Mexican and students from the colleges, Puebla (I'm truly in love with this city - we went there for the first time yesterday and I want to know how I can commute  the 45 minutes there in every free moment I have), and a silent retreat at a hermitage built on a mountaintop (10,000ft) by an old Spanish priest; many feelings and colors - hope and inspiration, serious frustration, fear, pink, green, yellow, white, but I will have to save them for another time. We are heading to a birthday party for the sister of one of our students in our afterschool program. And then I'm debating whether to go out or to compensate for the major dearth of sleep from this week. So, hoping that this finds you in peace and health, hasta pronto...