Holy Fear: My Sweat Lodge Ceremony

 

Recently, I attended a Sweat Lodge ceremony led by a member of the PIMA tribe of Northern Arizona.

Coincidentally, I started a program that asks us to do a fast as an initial practice to open our space.

Since I was planning to do the fast anyway, I thought I might as well line it up with the Sweat Lodge, and turn things up a bit. (Addictive personality in new clothes.)

Spirit must have really wanted me cleansed out, because the day before I got a stomach bug and spent the night vomiting. I woke up wondering whether it was best to go through with the fast, or the sweat, for that matter. Since I had little appetite anyway, I decided to see where the day would take me.

I was in a weird headspace all day. My homeostasis was off, and I was psychologically tender. As a student of transformation, I know we need to shake up what’s comfortable for things to shift. (If only we can get out of this.)

Instead of a full fast, I drank bone broth, electrolytes, & honey to help replenish.

The whole day, a part of me wanted to abort. I was coming up with reasons why I shouldn’t go.

It’s not safe, I don’t have the strength, this could be dangerous, etc.

One of them was the practical reason that on Tuesdays I watch my son while my wife works, and if she got home too late, I wouldn't make it in time.

God bless my wife, every time I texted her to get some confirmation of “Yes, poor thing, you should stay home.” She instead held firm that I should go. Ugh.

She finally came home, and I went, thinking it was either the best idea or the worst.

If you don’t know what a sweat lodge looks like, here's a picture. Twenty people fit inside, with hot stones in the middle. Blankets cover the dome, making it pitch dark.

We all walked in, sat knee to knee, hunched over, and waited for the first stones to come from the fire.

Then, the door closed. Any shadow of a person was gone, and I was alone in the dark, with nowhere to go.

In that moment, a fear unlike any I’d ever felt came over me. It was almost panic. My reactive impulse was to crawl out of that tent as fast as I could.

Luckily, I’ve spent enough time in ceremonial spaces to know how to find my center.

I breathed deeply into my belly, feeling the ground, and reminded myself I am OK. I made space to watch the fearful voice and let it be there without it taking control.

As the heat rose, the panic began to soften, but the sensation still covered my chest like armor. I could see the fear as a core protective part of me, and how much it still runs my life. I want my heart to lead, but it has no space.

I breathed in, I sweated, and invoked a collective prayer,

“Holy Fear
God, Great Spirit,
Release my fear, so I can truly know You, as the Expression of the Love in my heart.
Allow me to show up as You intended, without fear of what others will say, think, or do. May my flame for you grow brighter and brighter.
May we all release the fear we hold in our hearts that keeps us from showing up in this world with our full gifts, giving them in service to the greater good. May we know what is ours to do and be guided to serve our mission, adding harmony to all things.
(Invitation to repeat out loud.)”

As the rounds continued, I was able to make friends with all the fear in my chest and feel the lineage of pain it comes from. Although the feeling dissipated and I felt renewed afterward, I know a lot of fear still lives inside.

At a point during the ceremony, the leader mentioned three questions his people ask.

Who are you?

Where are you going?

How are you going to get there?

In the week that followed, I reflected on the meaning of these questions, and how we can’t properly answer them if fear is in the way.

In my fear, I may answer, Who Are You? with,

I’m Lou Redmond. I have 60,000 followers on Insight Timer. I’m special.

Where I'm going may be focused on security, retirement, some plan where everything is accounted for.

How I get there will be small and conservative, trying to take what I can get, never taking any risks.

As David Whyte says,

“The life you can plan is too small for you to live.”
— David Whyte

I want to live the largest vision of what God put me on earth to do.

I imagine you do too.

May we all release the fears that keep us from knowing our True Place in the world.

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