Sweat Ceremony

I have spent a lot of my life trying to avoid sweating. The ease and massive volume that sweat makes its way out of my pores has always been a source of embarrassment for me. Kids always teased me about it in school and it has always made me uncomfortable. Like I’m some sort of freak. So why in the world would I want to make myself sweat on purpose? That is the million dollar question that came to mind when I enthusiastically accepted an invitation to attend an all-women sweat ceremony. I suppose the idea of deepening my connection with my own spirit and gaining a brighter insight from Goddess, God, and the powers of the universe overshadowed my self-consciousness.

On the day of the sweat, I made an effort to drink plenty of water all morning. I collected my towel and water bottle and headed out the door. I met up with my friend who was hosting the event. She was arriving a little early to start the fire and tidy up. We arrived at a place called “Hippie Hill.” She parked the car and we walked over to where the sweat was to take place. The landscape was a typical high desert atmosphere complete with beautiful trees, shrubs, cacti, and sandy brown dirt.

After our short walk we arrived at the building. I saw a ramp leading downward into the ground toward a metal door that opened to a fireplace. My friend proceeded to start a fire and fill up buckets of water. While she did this, I got a chance to look around a bit. The ramp was bordered by a couple of walls that were covered in a clay stucco that mimicked the color of the earth so it blended into the landscape. Each wall hosted a built-in bench. I sat on one and noticed a spot that the stucco didn’t cover. In that spot was a pop can. I asked, “What is that pop can for?” I learned that the walls of the building were constructed of pop cans and covered in clay! The air inside of them creates some amazing insulating effects. I would have never known there were pop cans inside the walls since they were as solid as can be upon close inspection.

The structure itself is round and mostly underground. The top is a dome with a metal chimney coming out of it. I walked around to the side opposite of the fireplace and found the entryway at the bottom of a staircase. On either side of the staircase are two shelves that hold all kinds of beautiful artifacts and crystals. Looking above the staircase, on the dome roof is a stucco arch centered over the entryway with a clear big-bellied deity built right in the middle. The clear glass of the figure captured the sunlight and seemed to brighten my way as I walked down to the entryway.

The entryway is one that has to be crawled through since its height reaches to about 3 feet or so. Once inside, my eyes were treated to some breathtaking architecture that enhances and compliments the natural surroundings outside. The round room is constructed of a grey flat stone walls and floor with a pit in the middle. A pile of what looks like lava rocks are placed on the end where the fireplace stands opposite of the entryway. Intricate wooden sliding vent covers adorned with a heart carved into them have been placed on each side of the lava rocks to control air flow. The ceiling consists of rounded stones and natural wooden beams that come together in the middle to form a sort of asterisk. A heavy, black fabric is used to cover the entryway when needed.

All in all, a beautiful structure with many intricate details, but not at all what I had pictured in my mind. Let’s just say, I thought it would be a little more spacious and above ground. The fact that it is underground, no more than 4 and a half feet tall on the inside with a 3 foot tall entryway was starting to make me question my ability to follow through with the ceremony. Not to mention that it looked like it could fit only 6 people comfortably and there was talk of 8 or more people arriving to partake. I started to feel the stirring of claustrophobia in my gut, but I engaged in some reassuring self-talk and got some tips on how to cope.

I wondered how hot it would be once water was thrown on the lava rocks. My friend told me that it gets pretty hot and if I felt overwhelmed, I should crouch face down on the cool stone floor to get some relief. Being that this was my first time, I would get to sit right by the entryway to be able to open and close the flap as I wished to feel a sense of security. This made me feel somewhat better and realizing that I had participated in hot yoga in the past gave me some encouragement as I figured it couldn’t be any hotter than that. I was gaining confidence and started to feel like I could handle anything.

We went outside and visited with the other women as they arrived. I found that all these personalities individually and collectively where striking me as more beautiful than the architecture I had just witnessed. I felt surrounded by wise women comfortable in their spirituality. Sharing smiles of gratitude and comfort. Everyone I met radiated a purity of heart that heightened my own desire to not only admire them, but achieve a sensibility like theirs. 

After everyone arrived, the count of people was up to 9! My wheels were turning as to how we would all be able to fit in that tiny room. My anxiety was soon brought down by an opening prayer. We all gathered in a circle, joined hands and prayed to the Goddess. We cleansed our auras with a sage smudging then the real fun began. Everyone took off all their clothes and entered the room individually. I was last to enter since I wanted to sit by the entryway. I was told that if I needed to exit, all I had to say was, “All my relations,” before leaving the room. I don’t exactly know the meaning behind this, but I am determined to find out one day. 

Ok so there we were all circled around with our naked selves, shoulder to shoulder in the only light available through the entryway. We spent a couple minutes grounding ourselves and I was asked to close the flap. Once I did, I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. Major disorientation started to take place in my brain. I felt a panic rise up in my chest. There were a few words about connecting to the sister spirit, then I heard the first roar of heat summoned up by water being thrown on the lava rocks. 

The immediate heat was so intense, it took my breath away. It was like a fireball slapped me right in the face. It was a feeling similar to when your oven is on broil and you open the door with your face too close. More water was ladled onto the rocks and with each time, the heat got more and more intense. This was definitely NOTHING like hot yoga. This was like sticking my face in the mouth of a fire-breathing dragon.

My brain went quickly into shutdown mode as I felt like my face was turning to wax and melting off of my skull. I forgot about getting down on the floor for relief. All I could do was stick my head out of the flap and breathe in the cool air from outside. The relief was only temporary until the next blast of heat came. Breathing in cool air ended up just making things worse. The contrast of the cold air outside with the heat blasting through my body from inside was just unbearable. I lasted for maybe a total of 10 heat blasts. When I finally had enough I forgot to say the magic words, “All my relations.” All I could muster to say was, “I gotta get outta here!” 

I quickly exited and sat on the stairs just outside. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that I couldn’t hack it. I had looked forward to attending my first sweat for a couple of years and I wasn’t even able to hold on past the first few minutes inside. I spent a little bit of time crying and feeling sorry for myself. When I looked up through the haziness of my tears I saw the two shelves on either side of the staircase. I noticed many individual beams of triangular light pointing out of the artifacts and crystals as if they were reaching out to me with the light of the sun shining through them.

I had thought my experience was cut short by exiting the sweat room, when in reality, it all happened for me exactly the way it was supposed to. My awareness of my surroundings had suddenly been extremely enhanced. I realized the power of the universe to manifest itself in such simple things like light energy and crystals reaching out to me in order to provide comfort. As I took in the beauty around me, my unhappiness with myself was replaced with a feeling of gratitude that filled every cell of my body. I have never been so full of an emotion like that where I could feel it not only in my heart, but from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and fingers.

I felt a presence up behind me so I looked in that direction and came to find a dog wagging his tail enthusiastically while looking down at me from the top of the staircase. This was a dog who belonged to one of the women inside. She had put him in the car right before the ceremony so he wouldn't take off. I felt like he had escaped because he felt my reaching need for comfort and somehow knew that one of my spirit animal totems is a dog. I smiled at him and he ran down the stairs to me and let me pet his soft curly fur. 

Together, the dog and I sat and listened to the sounds of the ceremony from outside. From inside the collective sounds of the women singing was rising to angelic heights. I had never heard such melodies and harmony so energetic and expanding. I closed my eyes and felt immediately transported to a concert amphitheater. The intensions and experiences of the women inside could not be contained by the tiny room. They all transcended the limits of space and filled the air around with love and comfort together. 

The ceremony lasted for over an hour. People started to trickle out and I enjoyed visiting with women from all different backgrounds who all shared a common thread for desire and purity of spirit. I felt honored to be invited into a sacred space that allowed my soul to experience such a range of emotions in one afternoon. It felt amazing to create some positivity in my life through new connections with other like-minded women and to feel an acknowledgment of my own spirit rising.

Under normal circumstances, I might have left feeling defeated and left out, being the first one out of the sweat. This, however, is no normal circumstance. There was a sensation of such empowering energy that I feel inspired to go again and again until I can conquer a level of endurance to withstand such a drastically hot environment. If I got as much as I did from withstanding a few minutes of heat, just imagine what I can get out of hanging in there for an hour! It may take me a while to get to that point, but I believe the benefits are worth the work.

Joining a Movement... Words of Advice From a Disenfranchised Vegan

Lately, I've come across so many images of people holding signs in support of gay marriage and cheering in victory for their cause. From seeing these things, I've been faced with thinking about the general concept of protesting and movements of all kinds. As a former animal rights activist, I've done my share of standing outside of whatever establishment the group has deemed non-compassionate toward animals while holding my sign in opposition to them. I've even been arrested a couple times for the cause, but does all that really make a difference?

As soon as I wrote that question, I chuckled to myself. Of COURSE it makes a difference. When people walk down the street and see a demonstration or a group of people protesting with signs painted with dramatic images and clever one-liners, they are going to pause for a moment and maybe laugh at first. Then a judgement is made. Not usually about the issue itself, but about how ridiculous the people are who are protesting. That is making a difference, but is it helping anything? Is it making a positive difference?

When I was an activist, I always felt frustrated about onlookers to our protests. The questions of, "Why can't people see what's wrong here?" and "Why are they laughing when animals are dying?" were always rolling through my head. The more people laughed, the more I grew to hate them. Now, I had to hide this hatred because I was there to teach them a lesson about how things really are. I saw myself as someone who knew more than the average person walking down the street, which is why I held a sign and passed out flyers. I felt like an authority and it showed, which can be really off-putting to most people.

At the time, I felt like I was saving animals as long as I was doing something... ANYTHING to oppose animal exploitation. I went to any and all protests and I was a hardcore vegan. I became part of a group, which felt good. My fellow activists really liked my dedication to the cause. I even became a coordinator for an area that lacked involvement in the movement. I was there to inspire people to get involved and spread awareness across the region. I felt like I was a pioneer of sorts.

Most of all, I felt like I had a group of people who loved me and would be by my side no matter what. Then I got involved in some silly little direct action, that got blown way out of proportion. If you want to read more about the specifics, I wrote all about it here:

http://wheelerpage.blogspot.com/2010/01/october-17-2002.html

I ended up talking to the FBI as a result of a plea deal. I felt like I didn't tell them anything they didn't already know. Which is something I still stand by to this day. It was either talk to them or face felony charges. Even worse, with the Patriot Act, I was up against being labeled a "terrorist." In my mind, it was a no-brainer. After all, I wanted to get back out there to fight for animals and get on with my life. I couldn't very well do that behind bars.

Soon after I was interrogated, I realized even though people didn't know anything about what I said, most of my fellow activists were quick to turn their backs on me for talking to the FBI at all. I was not welcome in the community any longer. All of my hard work and dedication over the years was complete garbage to a lot of them. I didn't matter anymore. Once I was ostracized from a movement that was so dear to me, I realized it was time to move on.

During my transition from activist to regular person, my dad got cancer. He died within six months of his diagnosis. I felt like not only had the animal rights community thrown me to the wolves, I also was being punished by some greater force by having my dad taken from me. It was a very dark time for sure. I was so depressed and demoralized that I didn't feel like anything I did made a difference. That is when I stopped being vegan and started to see the people in the animal rights movement for who they really are. So focused on the one issue of saving the animals that nothing else, not even their own people, matter to them.

Now when I see protesters of any kind, I associate it with my experience. I assume that they are so hellbent on forwarding their one issue that they will mow anything and anyone down that stands in their way. This might not be a fair assessment on my part, but in my mind, it bears some truth because I was neck-deep in it. In all the years I was an activist, I might have convinced a person or two to go vegetarian, but the example I was setting with my inner-hatred for meat eaters and animal exploiters... my fellow people, was inexcusable and absolutely no way to create positive change.

With protesting, there's always a divide. Us against them. When you stand on a street corner with a sign, you define a divide between people. Simply put, it separates us all from each other. It creates an illusion that just because you are standing next to someone for the same cause that they are on your side. At this point in my life, I'm happy to say that I really don't know what the right answer is. I just know in my heart that people change drastically through time and its always a good thing to learn from EACH OTHER. There are no authorities on anything really. Everyone is learning all the time.

If you join a movement or are already in a movement, here are some words of advice. The thing that seems to make the biggest positive difference is putting people first. Even in the animal rights movement. Seeing people as they are and nurturing relationships whether they are activists or not can quite possibly keep a cause growing in the best way possible for years to come. Believing that outsiders (non-activists) can really be your friend, bridges all kinds of gaps. Everyone makes choices and while you may not agree with those choices try to see the person in the best light possible. Don't be quick to throw people away. The funny truth is, they never really go away.

When someone is ostracized from a movement like I was, they still go on existing and making choices. The only difference is they are out of your sight and influence. That doesn't benefit anyone or the greater cause. Try to avoid being "anti" something and turn it into something positive. Like instead of saying that something is bad, show people how it can be great. Its good to remember not let hatred grow in your heart no matter how hard and discouraging things get. Someone who seems like they are on your side may not be. Someone who seems like your enemy today, could be your greatest ally tomorrow. 

Danzo in Swim School!

Now that summer is here and Danzo has reached an age where he has established enough language skills to help him follow directions, I thought it would be a good next step to send him off to swim school. He loves the water and now is a prime time to take advantage of that love. Today was the first day so they watched a safety video and did some basic things like bounce in the water, blow bubbles, and float around on a foam pad.

It was a learning experience for him, but also me too! It felt kinda funny sending him off to be taken care of by other people while in the water. After I got used to the idea, I had a lot of fun watching him from the other side of the fence while he didn't know I was there. He was smiling, laughing, and learning. All while making new friends! I'm so glad he's gaining some insight into how to interact with kids his own age. Such a great experience for us. I sure am proud to be his mama.

10 Months After Birth... Now What?

My last post was almost a year and a half ago and I have to say that a lot has changed since then. My cat Penn is still alive, which is kind of a surprise. He's not in the best of health, but he's got the most persistent personality of any animal I've ever known. In all honesty though, my animals have really taken a backseat for a while because, oh yeah, I gave birth to my second child almost 10 months ago!

For me, birth is an all-consuming task where I have to put everything else aside to focus on bringing a new life into this world. My first son, Danzo was born in 2009 at the hospital by means of c-section. That was exhausting in its own way because I wanted so much to have an all-natural home birth and it took some time to recover from having a surgery. Initially, I recovered pretty quickly and got out of the hospital after only 2 days instead of the usual 3 because I set my mind to getting out of there.

From this quick progression, it may have seemed from an outsider's perspective that I was absolutely fine and nothing was wrong. Inside, though, the opposite was true. There was a fire inside of me that had been ignited by the experience of losing control in a split second and losing the dream of having a home birth. I always thought I'd have only one child, but from the moment of making the decision to have a c-section, I knew I wasn't done having kids.

After the c-section, I felt betrayed by my own body. I had to deal with the guilty feelings of depriving my child and self of the experience of bringing him into this world in a peaceful home environment.  I felt that medical intervention was necessary. Its a choice I'd make the same way again and again if I was faced with the same set of circumstances.

Once my decision was made, I was carted into a sterile room on a table. Numb from the waist down. The drape went up. The scalpel went down. The baby came out and was carried away to a table to get cleaned up and stimulated to breathe. To this day, he is a perfectly healthy child. With that said, it has taken years to deal with this experience and I will be dealing with it until the day I die, but simply put, I don't regret it for a second.

Like everything in life, this happened for a reason. Having a c-section with my first birth, set me on an amazing course of discovery into the potential of the human spirit and body. I gave birth to my second son at home on August 29, 2012. My labor lasted less than 10 hours and during that time, I got a crash course in many things that would probably take a lifetime to learn under normal circumstances.

I learned how manipulate deep physical sensations that would normally be called "pain" through the use of making low sounds. I realized the reality of multiple dimensions by being visited by one of the spirit guides I called upon. Lakshmi appeared in a rain of sparkling light to me and carried me along. I felt the possibility of a peaceful birth experience with every cell in my body. I began to understand my potential of facing my own primal side. I understood a cosmic connection of all mothers everywhere.

Even further, I gained an understanding of the connection of all people everywhere. I was happy to find my faith that there are many goddesses in the universe become reinforced. They are walking among us and beside us. They are brutal and kind at the same time. They are forgiving and bless us with experiences we never knew we could handle.

After the home birth experience, I was left to come back to the mundane day-to-day world. This is the hardest part, which caused more postpartum depression than with the c-section. Coming back to "reality" to deal with things like cooking, cleaning, dealing with people, shopping, paying bills.... YUCK! The transition has been very tough, but after almost 10 months, I think I'm finally starting to be able to deal with reality.

Moving forward, I hope to apply the knowledge I gained in labor to powerfully materialize all I want in my life. Right now, I am at an intersection with many possible turns. My husband is looking at new job opportunities at work, we're looking to buy our first house, Danzo is branching out and learning new things, second son, William is doing new things every day and also seems to be coming to earth. Who knows what the future has in store for my family. I know everything will work out. Patience, perseverance, faith, and understanding that there will be many variables and unknowns along the way with probably be the perfect formula to get through.

Penn Went to the Vet Today!

After getting fluids into Penn on the 16th, he started holding his food down that very night. I continued fluids for a few days and gave him 100ccs twice daily. As the days passed, he continued to look better and started to even groom himself again. I knew it wasn't a permanent fix, but at least it would hold him over until we could get enough money to take him to the vet and get to the bottom of things.

As of this morning, we finally had enough of a financial cushion to justify an added vet bill. All thanks to some help from my mom and receiving our tax return. I called the vet around noon and they were able to squeeze him in at 1:00. I grabbed Danzo and Penn and off we went to the clinic.

They were able to do some in-house diagnostics including a blood panel and urinalysis. I got a nifty little copy of his bill of health that explains each part of the blood test. The little receipt-looking thing to the right is Penn's blood test results. The left/first column is the name of the chemical component. The second column is the level found in Penn's system. The third column is the normal range. The last column is the measurement/unit.

 

The separate urinalysis showed evidence of a urinary tract infection and a few crystals. All in all, the results were in congruence with what I originally suspected. The figures associated with his kidneys, liver, and thyroid were on the high end of the spectrum.  Thankfully, its not as bad as I thought it would be. His levels are still manageable through a simple diet change, antibiotic shot, and continuation of periodic fluids. The vet suggested I switch him to a Hill's prescription diet for the kidneys. It's called k/d and costs about $20 for a 4 lb bag and $1.54 per 5.5 oz. can.... Yikes!  This stuff better work!

Since we've been home from the vet, I've given Penn a few opportunities to dig into a special bowl of his very own food and so far, he LOVES it! Not sure what he loves more... the taste or the exclusivity of having food that none of the other cats can touch. Either way, I'm feeling grateful that he is returning to his old self once again.

The Guilt Never Ends

No matter how much my cat, Penn makes me mad, all I have to do is look at his gentle face and I fall in love all over again...
Over the past 13 years, he's made life very difficult for me. I think he's peed on the carpet of every house I've lived in. Last year he started having the all-expensive dental problems. I've spent hours upon hours cleaning up his messes. I've taken him to the vet more times than all of my other cats combined, and spent who-knows-how-much money on office visits, hospitalization, tooth extractions, medications, special food, and carpet cleaning chemicals.

Almost a month ago, he did the unthinkable... He peed on my bed. The duvet, down comforter and sheets were all soaked in cat urine. I thank my (and his) lucky stars that I had a plastic mattress cover on underneath it all, so at least the mattress wasn't affected. I was so mad at him. Its one thing to pee on my carpet, but to pee where I lay!? That's just a whole new level of disrespect in my mind. Of course I considered that he was sick and was trying to communicate that to me by doing something so drastic, but I was just so mad. I wanted to kill him anyway. I dismissed it by chalking it up to a behavioral problem.

I gave him the cold shoulder for a while because I wanted him to know how much it pissed me off to have to clean cat pee out of my bedding. Time has passed, I've cooled off, and the bedding has since been cleaned. About a week ago, I started to notice him taking less interest in food, which is totally out of character for him. He's always the one begging to be fed morning and night. I also noticed that his chin seemed to be tender to the touch.

Since we are dirt poor, there's really no money for anything extra and unfortunately for the cats, they are included in the "extra" category for the time being. When you're poor, you gotta do what you gotta do, but I don't want to throw my hands in the air and leave it at that. It just so happens that I had bought a few different types of antibiotics online to have on hand in case anyone got sick. I tried some Doxycycline on him because I was concerned he had an infection in his mouth. It seemed to work for a couple days. Then he started throwing it up.  

I tried switching to a Cephalexin, which is a milder tasting broad-spectrum antibiotic that also covers the urinary tract, but he couldn't keep that down either. In fact, he hasn't even been able to keep water and food in his stomach for the past couple of days. This means his body won't even be able to synthesize the medicine even if he could keep that alone in his stomach.

I went to bed last night wondering what in the world I can do for this cat. With a visit to the vet being about $50 and blood work, tests, and medications being extra, this could end up costing hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Not an idea we can even entertain at this point since our credit cards are maxed out and we only have a two-digit figure in the bank until next week's payday. I began to feel frustrated and desperate since I knew that once dehydration sets in, his organs will soon start shutting down.

I woke up this morning with a fresh perspective. I got up early and sat on the couch with Penn in my lap and asked, "In any survival situation, what's the most important element to get into the body right away? Water." In his case, he can't take it orally, so I decided it would be my mission for the day to get some fluids I can administer subcutaneously. This was something I always did for sick animals back in my days as a veterinary assistant. I got online and searched everywhere for fluids called Lactated Ringers.

Every site I came across, required a prescription for fluids so I quickly abandoned that idea. Besides, I need it today and the soonest they could get it to me would be tomorrow. Next, I called a couple of vet hospitals. The first one told me that it was against the law in Arizona to sell fluids without first seeing the animal. This is the response I expected.

Hoping for a more optimistic answer, I called the next place. A nice lady answered and I explained my financial situation and Penn's dire medical condition. I asked her if they sell fluids over the counter and she said they do!!! I was so excited to have some sort of chance to help my sick cat. She asked me a few questions about Penn's condition and asked if I'd ever administered fluids before. After answering her questions, she said that I could come right in and they would have everything ready for me.

I took the half-hour drive to the clinic. They had everything ready to go. Just as promised. I got two bags of fluids, a drip line, and some needles. It cost me $48, which is still expensive, but doable for our situation. I left feeling proud that I had accomplished what I set out to do for the day. However, I still have feelings of guilt for not being able to do more. It makes me feel somewhat better that now I have a chance and hope to help Penn get better or at least make him more comfortable if he ends up dying from all this. After all, the worst thing you can do is to do nothing at all.

Here's what my impromptu fluid station set-up looks like:

Count the Skeletons With Me

I'm learning that the magic of St. Johns is that you can drive a few minutes in any direction and you're suddenly in the middle of the wilderness. No other human for miles. Today was a wonderfully blustery, windy, grey day. Our family decided to get out and enjoy the many beautiful sites within a close drive from our house. Our first stop was the grave site that Cameron created for our Gracie. The scenery does her justice. She is buried next to a tree with many limbs that reach up toward the heavens. Skeleton #1 Gracie's skeleton.

The view from her grave across the basin overlooks a vast monument to the beautiful color of her fur. It looks like a giant silvery-grey tabby cat buried in a layer of earth. A reflection of her grave...

A hike down the decline to the dry-bed basin produced a skeleton of a different kind... Skeleton #2 A rusted out, shot up skeleton of a car.

Skeleton #3 Cow Skeleton

Skeleton #4 Windmill Skeleton

The brutality of the last skeleton of the hike is felt in the ghostly images of an abandoned cattle chute. Skeleton #5 Cattle Chute Skeleton