“Warrior, why are you here?”

The echo of those words, spoken by a shaman in the temazcal, lingers. I hear them still in moments of doubt and happiness, too. I think of them when I am alone. I wonder about my purpose. I suspect that to be their intention. They were meant to stay in my mind long after the shaman has gone. They live and permeate everything like the steam of lava rocks in a sacred ritual.

It’s jarring because I didn’t expect it—the shaman taking up permanent residence in my head. But I can see it now, looking back. The chanting, touching, breathing, praying—it was intended to stay with me. Of course, it was. I just didn’t expect it from an Airbnb experience that started with an overfull Uber ride.

What is a Temazcal

Several weeks earlier, I’d learned about temazcals while hiking in Puerto Vallarta. We were lost (so much for hiring a guide) and chatting about being in jungles. I mentioned that I’d once had a spiritual cleansing by a shaman in a jungle outside of Tulum. She told me about the temazcal ritual she’d participated in the week before.

“What’s a temazcal?” I asked.

Like many, I was looking for relief or a way to de-stress. Not finding the release in my own culture, I’ve veered toward the edges of others. I’ve practiced yoga, meditation, and journaling … but I needed a shot in the arm.

She explained that a temazcal was something done by Indigenous peoples in Mesoamerica. It’s a sweat lodge-style ritual led by a shaman—in this case, a temazcalero. Participants enter a low stone or clay hut-like structure with steaming rocks that make them sweat like crazy. It’s good spiritually and for health and therapeutic benefits. While in the steaming temazcal, the temazcalero leads the group in a ceremony. that could last up to two hours or more.

I’d always been intrigued by sweat lodge experiences and firmly against ever trying one. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to breathe. Still, I asked questions about the various herbs, oils, cacao and other elements that make the ceremony sacred. Still, I knew I’d never try one.

Experience Find You When it’s Time

A few weeks later, while scrolling through Airbnb experiences in Mexico City, I saw the wTord “temazcal.” I don’t believe in coincidence. Without question or worry, I booked the experience. I thought it was probably not very authentic. That made me feel better about doing it. Otherwise, I would have never committed.

Ten people carpooled about 30 minutes outside of Mexico City.

I distracted my nerves by keeping my leg off my cramped neighbor and asking questions during the ride. I get a bit claustrophobic. Plus, my research said the heat and sweating would be intense. It was a scary thought that I’d be trapped in extreme heat and darkness with these strangers. Suddenly, I was second-guessing what I was doing and why I was doing it, thus the chatter.

The Shaman is a Temazcalero

We finally drove down a dark side road. Then, we went up a hill, away from the town’s noise. Eventually, we reached a large property. Several acres contained herbal gardens, plants and trees. There were large open spaces and evidence of past spiritual rituals conducted under the moon’s light. Further back, I saw a fire, and that’s where we headed.

We walked across the lawn, spotting here and there wheels of dried flowers lying in the grass. Butterflies flitted past, and a small dog followed at our heels. The sun set in a golden spectacle, and the night turned first pink, then blue and finally purple. Our talking turned to whispers and then silence.

The shaman waited with helpers in a far corner, stoking massive stones in a big fire. The fire pit was made of clay and formed like a dog, jaguar, snake, and feathered serpent.

I could see the shaman less clearly. Even now, he is a faint impression of a person in my memory. I knew he had mahogany skin and grey-black hair; he was neither tall, thin, young, or old. I don’t know what he wore other than to say it didn’t catch my attention. Nothing about him caught my attention, and now I realize it must be as he wanted it.

Next to him was the temazcal. It was formed from the earth it sat on. It was as big as a round king bed and low to the ground. The beige clay on its surface was shaped into patterns and whorls. It resembled a tree that grew from the earth.

Preparing for a Soul Journey Transformation

The shaman didn’t speak English, but our guide translated masterfully. The shaman gave us a small brown clay mug resting beside a tree stump. He said it was filled with steaming cacao to open our minds. It tasted like thin, chocolate-flavored hot water. While we drank, we shed our clothes, revealing bathing suits.

He said cacao is a powerful tool to go deeper into visualization and shamanic journeying. It would help us in energetic healing, receiving clarity and opening our intuitive abilities. We drank it and listened as he told us the history of the temazcal.

History of Temazcal

This steam sweat lodge is the setting for a 2,500-year-old ritual. The ritual intends to illuminate a pathway into the inner self. It begins a rebirth of love in your soul. He is a Mayan and said his family has been doing these rituals for hundreds of years.

We approached him one by one. He used copal incense smoke to cleanse us and gave us a blessing to cast away negative spirits. I stood with my arms out to my side. He held an orange clay pot with a long handle made of the same material. He blew the smoke around my entire body and asked me to place my hands in front to receive it. I cupped them like holding water, and he filled them with smoke.

“Be free,” he said, gesturing for me to enter the temazcal behind him.

Entering the Temazcal

I got on my knees to crawl into the dark mouth. I couldn’t see anything, but I felt straw mats under my hands and knees. If I wanted to get out, I wanted to sit by the door. However, everyone after me would have to crawl over me to find a spot. So, I found a place against the wall on the left side of the back.

Slowly, each person entered and chose a spot until we were all knee-to-knee in the darkness. The shaman lit a candle, and we could see again. The clay earth surrounded us and held us—the ceiling just a foot above our heads. I could have risen to my knees, but no higher.

I can’t begin to recall all that happened or was said in the temazcal. My consciousness only allows so much, and not all of it is my story to tell.

What Happens Inside a Temazcal

The shaman told us to let go of who we were and the problems that brought us to this place. He said we should accept that the universe had led us here. When we left it, we would be on a new path with a greater purpose.

“Warriors,” he asked, “Why are you here?”

At first, I thought he wanted to know why we came to this place for this ritual. I believed he expected an answer. However, I was wrong. He challenged us to examine why we are on earth now. Why are we the people we are? And why are we in the places we dwell? Why we are here.

Stoking the Fires of the Universe

The Shaman spoke while our Guide translated. Meanwhile, another person brought flaming red rocks from the fire into the center of the temazcal. They were the size of footballs and glowed a raging red. Stone after stone after stone they placed. It seemed for a long time this happened, and I watched in wonder and thought it might never end. The stones thudded down and sizzled with their own story.

Finally, the stacks reached their highest possible height. We were already searing hot. He dropped a thick cloth covering it over the doorway. He threw a ladle of water over the rocks and our candle for the last second of our sight. Their glow extinguished, leaving us in steaming darkness.

Sweat was already dripping down my back and pooling on my upper lip. I shifted my weight, crossing and re-crossing my legs, uncomfortable with my choice to do this to myself. My body wanted to rebel. I shifted my eyes to where the door should be but saw nothing.  

Natural Elements Used in Soul Journey Ceremony

He began to tell a story about how he became a shaman. I settled in to listen. I forced calm second by second, breath by breath. He said he found a bird when he was a boy, and that wise bird taught him many things. “Hoo, hoo, hoo,” he said, speaking in the bird’s voice. “Coo, coo,” he said.

He told his story and passed around a wooden tray of big aloe leaves—as wide as my arm. We smeared them all over our bodies. “Do more, smash it up and put it everywhere,” he said through our guide.

“Hoo, hoo,” he continued, telling more of his story. He passed around a wooden bowl filled with honey. We scooped it out and smeared it all over our bodies. Vaguely, as I slathered the honey in my hair, I realized I must be insane.

“Warriors,” he said, “Do not be afraid.”

Why Fear is our Most Loyal Friend

He splashed more fragrant herbal water on the stones, making them steam wildly. The sweat poured from me; the aloe was cool, the honey sweet on my lips. I’ve been running from and chasing my fear for a long time, shaman, I thought. I’m made an entire life from fear. Fear of love and death, poverty and failure. Fear of living, success, and love you’re so afraid to lose you forgo it entirely. I’ve been caught in fear’s grasp for a long time.

“Do not be afraid of fear,” he said. “Embrace it because it is your most loyal friend. Embrace your fear because when all else leaves you, even love, your fear will remain. Even as you take your last breath on this earth, your fear will be by your side.”

The stones howled when the water hit them, and I cringed back, afraid until finally, I wasn’t anymore. I thought I couldn’t breathe, but I could, and I stopped thinking about it. I stared with my eyes wide open, seeing nothing, feeling everything. I’d always thought fear was something I should despise, but maybe it could be something else. Maybe it can be the passion that fuels me.

“Warriors,” he yelled. “Why are you here?”

Lost in a fever Dream

On and on, he talked, chanted, yelled. “Hoo, hoo, hoo,” he said, interspersing his story with the coos of the wise owl. Time passed, and many things my soul needlessly held passed with it on a current going away from me. New thoughts and emotions came to mind. What am I afraid of? We are only drawing words in water with a stick. Everything is eventually pulled into the endless flow. Nothing will change that, so why waste time being afraid?

He passed another bowl filled with orange slices, and we ate them greedily, the juice flowing freely down my face. He threw more herb water on the rocks, and they sizzled manically. His voice rose in power and volume. The shaman and his translator yelled in sequence in two languages. My mind was filled with nothing else. We were animals, mindless and filled with the universe.

Finally, he shouted, “Warriors!” Then softly, “Warriors, be free.”

The echo of those words lives inside me, haunting and changing me for the better.

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