Sweat Lodge

Things start to heat up

It’s a Saturday afternoon in November around 2.00. I am standing in a field in a pair of shorts with twelve others. The man on my left is Managing Director of BP Oil and the one on the right a recovering heroine addict. We are the very definition of an eclectic bunch.

That morning when I arrived, I was anxious!

This was a big deal, something I had looked forward to for some time and feared. The fact that the place where this ritual was going to take place was called ‘Brazier Park’ seemed prophetic. A large pile in the Oxford Countryside near Didcot which was now an alternative community of some kind and had some association with Ian Fleming, the creator of James Bond, and also 60’s singer Marian Faithful, who famously lived on a wall for three years.

I parked the car, took my bags of food, water, and clothes, and tramped across muddy fields toward the site. I honestly can’t remember when I first heard of a Sweat Lodge but knew that things appear in one’s life at the right time, I was trusting the process. It’s 2009 and my life has changed irrevocably in the last five years. My first marriage had ended but I was now living with my wonderful new partner.

The Native Americans had always interested me, their indigenous wisdom seemed to marry the physical and the spiritual so seamlessly.

I also loved saunas and heat.

I found Windspirit online and here I was entering a small boundaried enclosure near some woods and preparing to sweat. Mike, the Lodge Elder, met me at the entrance and gave me a hug. He was an older man and had a fine moustache. Soon others gather mainly male, but a few female. There’s lots of patch pockets, check shirts and layered clothing. There also some impressive tattoos and piercings.

We all hug and Kaz, a well built young man, informs us that this is a place where hugging is essential. Kaz is assisted by Darren, who is swarthy and has dreadlocks, he looks like he is moulded from clay. I put my bag down near a wooden seat made from a felled tree and some old planks. It’s a rustic scene. The seats are in a circular arrangement and in the middle is a platform made of wood.

Once our motley Crue is assembled and we have chatted Darren and Kaz bring us to attention. I like Kaz’s energy, he’s slightly hyperactive and intimidating, but also avuncular. We form a circle for what they call the fire lighting ceremony. As the rituals unfold there is just enough explanation of the ‘tradition’ to intrigue and whet the appetite. I notice that in the grass to our left laid on the turf are forty or so rocks. Darren tells us that these rocks are ‘our Grandfathers’, they were here before us and would remain after we had gone, volcanic igneous rocks from the core of the earth’s molten heart. The ‘grandfathers’ must be treated with respect. We were then asked to go over, pick them up, and place them on the wooden table. Eventually, a cairn on the wood platform was constructed and Kaz handed out a newspaper which was then screwed up and placed under the wooden table.

We were then asked to sing the fire lighting song. Songs are very important in this tradition and we are informed that this lodge takes its origins from the Black-Foot Tribe in Canada and has a sacred lineage. We were told about the altar with its large carved eagle where we may place objects sacred to us that will receive a blessing. There are also pipes on the altar and these are very important. They will be loaded later with tobacco and sweet herbs and smoked in the final round of our ceremony. The singing is led by Darren, Kaz, Mike, and a few others who are regular attendees. This song is in Blackfoot and listening to the sounds and rhythm and trying to catch on and join in I am transported to another time and place. This experience is very affecting. All the sweat lodge songs are sung three times, this will be important to remember when I am in the lodge. As we sing the sun peeks out from behind a cloud.

Once the song is completed, the Fire-Keepers are called, two strong fellows who put kindling and wood beneath the table. Then the fire is lit and starts to blaze. The Fire-Keepers cover the fire and the rocks with enough wood for Bonfire night and the conflagration starts to burn. There is something primal about fire and this setting enhances its power. We are then given jobs - mine is to fetch water - and we have a few hours to walk, chat, or just meditate. Before coming I had been instructed online to buy presents for the Fire-keepers and had purchased two large bars of chocolate.

The estate is beautiful but ramshackle. I take a walk, return from my circumnavigation, and settle to watch the fire. I have been meditating for over twenty years at this point and I am a natural meditator having taken to it seamlessly; this is with a Sanskrit mantra and is firmly set within the Vedic tradition. I had always had a busy mind and this practice stilled it and also had many other advantages. Throughout my divorce, this practice had anchored me. So I enjoyed sitting and watching the fire; we were on ‘Indian Time’ now Kaz informed us. More wood was added to the fire and the heat some ten feet away could be felt. The Grandfathers were heating up. The work of the Fire-Keeper is perilous and intense, they work with the heat and the flame. This is a role I will eventually take on in the coming months and lose my eyebrows at. But this is my first time and I get to drink everything in.

When something is new the attention is completely awake. I fell into conversation until Darren tells us that the rocks will be ready soon.

The Lodge itself is a shallow pit dug into the earth and over the top is a domed structure made from branches and string. This skeleton is then covered in an enormous black covering heaped with hundreds of blankets and finally covered with taupes. It permits no light from outside and retains all the heat. Inside the lodge are tied flags of every colour that represent all the races of mankind.

We strip into our shorts and form a circle. One-by-one we go around we go around and say why we are here and what we hope to learn at the lodge today. Mike is in charge now, the Elder, I love his Canadian accent and I find out later that he has lived on a reservation in Canada. He carried the tradition here to England. When it is my turn I mutter something about gratitude for my new job and my new partner. There is then smudging with sage or in the setting mugwort, which is native to this land. This is done one by one again in turn. The fire continues to burn and the trepidation and excitement in growing. Then the drum begins to beat…

Next week - what happens in the Lodge?