Ash
I raised my forehead from the earth and entered the lodge. With a silent chant: clockwise, careful of toes, don't stare - I slowly crawled around the circle. Nestling into my spot, I inclined my head at what I hoped a respectful angle, and brushed at the soil clinging to my brow. This small act was enough to silence the manners mantra and that was all the permission my gaze needed. I looked up and immediately began staring into a mans chest. It's flesh, loose with age and sun-dance scars held my eyes absolutely. Eventually it released its hold: expanding to feed the elders soft remark that we sat within a womb.
His words were confusing enough for me to brave a look about. I peered around, inspecting the latticed willow boughs which supported the exterior hides. Glancing down, I wiggled a bit to better test the earthen floor and decided his description of the lodge didn't fit. It was light and cool inside, and the ground wasn't particularly comfortable to sit on: Not at all how I imagined a womb to be. I didn't have a chance to further explore what the elder meant as my attention was distracted by the arrival of the stones.
I watched as the twenty eight bonfire baked rocks were brushed with a sprig of pine before receiving a pinch of tobacco each. Humming what sounded to be a tune of welcome, the elder picked up an antler tine and gently nudged the hissing stones into the pit. Our fire tender let fall the hide that served as the lodges door, sealing us into near complete darkness. The stones didn't radiate light so much as they did a heat that my cold butt and legs welcomed. The scent of tobacco and charred bone was soon met by waves of sage, juniper sap and bear root. After taking a minute to warm his drum in the smoke of the offerings, the elder began to sing. I tried to understand the language he sang with but the drum was the only part of the song familiar to me. It mirrored my heart beat.
Lavender infused water was poured onto the stones. I thought this soothing right up until the steam came. It dropped from the roof of the lodge like a cougar to prey: clawing my body and gashing my thighs, until I felt encased in searing blood. My heart began to seriously outpace the drum and this terrified me. Those matching rhythms were the only thing I'd understood about the ceremony. And the sweat came, oh god it came: from places I’d never known could sweat. Not a trickling dripping type of sweat but one that gushed and drenched. Within minutes, the only rhythm that my heart kept time with was my own frantic breathing. Desperately seeking relief, I fell to my side and smeared myself with the sodden soil. I lifted my face to suck at the sweaty little pond I'd been sitting in, hoping the small surface might contain a breeze. It didn't. If anything, my wallowing seemed to attract the heat. Blinking through the mud, I sat up, stared into the stones and burned.
The pit rose to the center of my vision and its glow shifted into faces of fiery malice. I felt the images were directly tied to my thoughts yet I was absolutely incapable of thinking them back to stone. I clamped my eyes shut and let my chin drop to my chest. My breath scorched my belly and thighs until an unbidden thought came to mind: I was intimately familiar with this exact pain. If I hadn’t been so thoroughly devoid of moisture, I'd have let loose a small burst of pee. Once I recognized my current pain as the kind meted out by my stepmothers whip: her voice became as my minds own. In devastating harmony we told myself 'This is pagan and wrong - its hurting you because you don't belong here'.
The dreadful chant grew until I knew with certainty sun-dance scars would never adorn my chest and I would never sing the songs. I had to leave. Sick with pity I moved to speak. Just as my throat tightened with my cry to be let out, I heard the stones. Or I heard the lodge. I heard something...and through feeling rather than word it was asking me to stay. This sensation possessed an authority more profound than anything my mind could summon. It annihilated the wicked harmony, encouraging me to sit up and open my eyes. My lids cracked apart and I saw that the pit had returned to the earth. Within it now lay a molten wolf surrounded by a tail of ash. We gazed at each other through salt and fire until I grew comfortable with his offer of guidance.
Compassionate wisdom radiated from the wolf, embracing me as thoroughly as the steam had. I wept with the knowledge that the lodge was simply doing one of the things a lodge was meant to do. He explained that the ceremony had called to a deeply buried toxin and drew it, burning, through each of my pores. Having surfaced, it could now be acknowledged and given to the earth through sweat and song. Being my first sweat, the totem told me it was important I learn now that the only pain I'd find within a lodge was the pain I carried inside. He stressed that choice was still present : I could cling to my sickness, but sensing its death, it would flee the lodge and take me with it.
Deep breathes fueled my sobs and they didn't burn. Purifying smoke tasting of mountain and field coursed through me. My heart slowed again to match the beat of the elders drum. I rose to my knees. Reaching through the thickest heat , I grasped the upper willows and hung my face over the pit. Within the earths womb my first song fell as tears, onto the wolf of ash .
