There are numerous advantages to WWOOFing or CouchSurfing instead of just crashing in a hotel.
There's the free food, free roof over your head, the skills you learn- but most importantly, there's your host. Without this person letting you take up some of their personal space for a while, you'd never get so much of an insight into someone else's life, and never get to muscle in on certain experiences orchestrated by a friend-of-a-friend.
I sure as hell never would have been to a Sweat Lodge if I was just in the Best Western down the street.
The people at Buie's place were up on the hill at 9am building the fire and preparing the grandfathers- the heated rocks -for the lodge, so that by the time we got there a couple of hours later, the two fire demons were well practised in levering another log onto the great tipi of heat. Behind it our Elder stood whittling what looked like a longbow.
What followed was an introduction to the group, which was over thirty of us, and a runthrough of the ritual of the lodge. There were four doors, or rounds, each with its own meaning, compass direction, spirit animal and essential oil to be remembered, and with that we stripped off to bare essentials and climbed in the little hut.
It was cramped. Thirty people in a space maybe eight foot in diameter and four foot tall? Ouch. Two of my toes went purple. The dark was absolute and the heat intense. Each grandfather was welcomed to the lodge and spirits were called upon first by our Elder and then by those who wanted to speak in our steamy congregation in a kind of open-floor setting. People called on Forgiveness and Truth, Sky and Sea to guide and help them in their lives.
After each timeless round there was a short break, the door was opened, and a world of silhouettes and mist crept in. I opted for staying in the rapidly cooling lodge instead of running around in the freezing April air outside between rounds, both because I figured I'd get less of a shock from the temperature change and because only one of my feet was responding.
As we moved past Calling and into Healing, songs were sung in various languages, from Spanish to Native American and even a round of Lean On Me. The pleas to the spirits became more and more emotional. Secrets revealed to Mother Earth became more and more cathartic, voices often choked with tears. Each was encouraged and replied to with “Aho”, or “All my relations”, a kind of Amen of the Native Americans, I guess.
In the Door of Gratitude I spoke up and thanked Canada for being so good to me, saying I'd been here two weeks and not met a single person I didn't like, which got one of the few laughs of the session.
After nearly four hours of sitting in the steamy dark, we all emerged drenched in sweat and more than a little dazed. Food was shared, jumpers and jeans put back on, and people bumped off back down the mountainside in their 4x4s.
Joel, my faithful co-WWOOFer, asked me what I thought of it. He seems like an old hand at things like this, having been to a few Sweat Lodges before, as well as spending a month meditating and chanting and working seven-hour days in what sounded an awful lot like a monastery.
I came up with the word Weird. Then Intense. It was more ritualistic than I was expecting, and a lot more emotional, and I was surprised by how supportive the setting was. The simple “Aho” became more than just an acknowledgement- it became a nod of agreement, of consent, of understanding.
One woman who shared during the Healing round caused a great hum to come out of the sweaters. Thirty voices all sounding and resounding as one- pitches and volumes intermingling and fluctuating.
Even to a sceptic, it sounded like the earth was moving.
There's the free food, free roof over your head, the skills you learn- but most importantly, there's your host. Without this person letting you take up some of their personal space for a while, you'd never get so much of an insight into someone else's life, and never get to muscle in on certain experiences orchestrated by a friend-of-a-friend.
I sure as hell never would have been to a Sweat Lodge if I was just in the Best Western down the street.
The people at Buie's place were up on the hill at 9am building the fire and preparing the grandfathers- the heated rocks -for the lodge, so that by the time we got there a couple of hours later, the two fire demons were well practised in levering another log onto the great tipi of heat. Behind it our Elder stood whittling what looked like a longbow.
What followed was an introduction to the group, which was over thirty of us, and a runthrough of the ritual of the lodge. There were four doors, or rounds, each with its own meaning, compass direction, spirit animal and essential oil to be remembered, and with that we stripped off to bare essentials and climbed in the little hut.
It was cramped. Thirty people in a space maybe eight foot in diameter and four foot tall? Ouch. Two of my toes went purple. The dark was absolute and the heat intense. Each grandfather was welcomed to the lodge and spirits were called upon first by our Elder and then by those who wanted to speak in our steamy congregation in a kind of open-floor setting. People called on Forgiveness and Truth, Sky and Sea to guide and help them in their lives.
After each timeless round there was a short break, the door was opened, and a world of silhouettes and mist crept in. I opted for staying in the rapidly cooling lodge instead of running around in the freezing April air outside between rounds, both because I figured I'd get less of a shock from the temperature change and because only one of my feet was responding.
As we moved past Calling and into Healing, songs were sung in various languages, from Spanish to Native American and even a round of Lean On Me. The pleas to the spirits became more and more emotional. Secrets revealed to Mother Earth became more and more cathartic, voices often choked with tears. Each was encouraged and replied to with “Aho”, or “All my relations”, a kind of Amen of the Native Americans, I guess.
In the Door of Gratitude I spoke up and thanked Canada for being so good to me, saying I'd been here two weeks and not met a single person I didn't like, which got one of the few laughs of the session.
After nearly four hours of sitting in the steamy dark, we all emerged drenched in sweat and more than a little dazed. Food was shared, jumpers and jeans put back on, and people bumped off back down the mountainside in their 4x4s.
Joel, my faithful co-WWOOFer, asked me what I thought of it. He seems like an old hand at things like this, having been to a few Sweat Lodges before, as well as spending a month meditating and chanting and working seven-hour days in what sounded an awful lot like a monastery.
I came up with the word Weird. Then Intense. It was more ritualistic than I was expecting, and a lot more emotional, and I was surprised by how supportive the setting was. The simple “Aho” became more than just an acknowledgement- it became a nod of agreement, of consent, of understanding.
One woman who shared during the Healing round caused a great hum to come out of the sweaters. Thirty voices all sounding and resounding as one- pitches and volumes intermingling and fluctuating.
Even to a sceptic, it sounded like the earth was moving.
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