Sweatlodge
You may wonder why a pasty red head with extreme heat sensitivity and a decent case of claustrophobia would even consider participating in a traditional Costa Rican sweat lodge ceremony, but I was at a point in my life where I was trying to say yes to new experiences. A life-long over-achiever, I was reimagining the pace of my life. I was ready to embrace the zen.
Also, I was assured by my friend that this would be an “easy one—for beginners.”
I started picking up on the seriousness of the occasion after about three hours of preparation in the blazing sun. We weren’t anywhere close to starting. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying the process – gathering all the materials, digging the hole where the hot stones would go, building the fire that would heat the stones. Meanwhile I was sweaty, dirty, and irritable, and starting to question whether I belonged in this space.
To alleviate my concerns, I approached one of the native healers in charge and asked, “If it gets too intense for me, how do I respectfully leave the ceremony?”
She responded with a calm voice and peaceful smile, “If your body is telling you to give up, we ask that you push past the physical discomfort.”
Yes, yes, of course. Challenge yourself. I smiled in return. “Right, but I’m saying what if you reach your limit and really can’t continue?”
She was still smiling but her tone was firmer. “Your body will tell you to leave, but that’s all ego. We encourage you to push past ego and connect with spirit.”
She clearly was not understanding my question.
I tried to be a bit more direct. “So, I have low blood pressure and I don’t do well in heat. What if I’m about to pass out?”
No sign of a smile now and her voice was stern. “Of course you can leave if you have to, but if you do, you end the ceremony for everyone.”
Wait, what the fuck? How did this go from “namaste my soul sister” to “don’t fuck this up for the rest of us”? I was momentarily stunned, but I quickly recovered my composure.
OK, bitch, I thought, game on! Time to stop seeing this as a collective soul cleansing and see it for what it really was – a competitive endurance event. And I wasn’t going to lose!
By the time we dropped to the earth and crawled into the lodge, I was in full ego-mode. “Don’t tap out, don’t fuck this up, you got this bitch!” was my inner mantra. Instead of letting go of my ego, I clung to it. It’s the only thing that kept me from tapping out during the 2 plus hours of torture I endured with the 13 other slimy, stinky bodies inside that sweat lodge. And when we all crawled out covered in our own filth, tears and snot, all I could think was, “Fuck yes, bitch! You did it!”
I glanced over at the spiritual healer and gave her a smug smile. She bowed her head in defeat. The Zen people around me may have been experiencing the bliss of death and rebirth, but nothing could come close to the euphoria I felt from WINNING!
And that was the day I discovered I was more cunty than zen.