Though this story took place a few years ago, I just rediscovered it among my archive of blogs and think it will be inspiring for parents and children alike.

Cat with Brant Secunda

My son protested, “Where are we going? You can’t be serious? We’re gonna do what for the weekend? A shamanic adventure?!?” Needless to say, dragging my youngest offspring to a Huichol Indian retreat somewhere in the Pocono Mountains was probably not the most popular suggestion I could have presented to him for our first weekend activity after school let out. Throughout Eli’s youth, I took him to a lot of events surrounding my publishing days of Holistic Health Journal, and for the past half dozen years, he had been protesting any and all attempts to take him on adventures, especially anything to do with “alternative or spiritual topics,” much less a shamanic adventure of this sort.

At first it seemed as if everything would be all right, as I thought he was just a bit burned out by the amount of workshops and seminars that he attended when he was young. I had compassion for those feelings, but eventually I began to feel a concern about his aversion to such experiences. It was my hope that he would embrace some of what he had been exposed to in his childhood and be a bit more open to exploring new horizons in life, especially when it might bring him some insight and clarity into his own existence on the planet.

Shamanic Adventure Begins

Anyhow, Eli agreed to attend the weekend, being that the presenter had personally invited him, but said that he wanted to be clear that it was “under protest.” I duly noted his protest and we departed for a YMCA camp in the wilds of the Pocono Mountains. The car ride was moderately pleasant, and we decided to alternate music. Eventually, I surrendered to the playlist that he chose, realizing it was designed for the sole purpose of torturing me during our ride. After arriving, my dear son assessed the situation and pointed out that many of the probable participants of the program looked like “hippies,” in his estimation. We laughed a little, found our room for the weekend and prepared for the evening activities.

Dinner was our first engagement, which was helpful, being that I’ve found it’s better to ply a teenage boy with food before thrusting him into the challenge of doing something he is resistant to doing. We then attended a talk in which our Huichol shaman, Brant Secunda, introduced himself and his family. He began to describe what our weekend experience would be like. Eli look traumatized by the prospect of participating in Native American dances and a sweat lodge, but hung in there like a trooper. We chanted a bit and then, oh God, we had our first “deer dance.” Eli looked as if he’d swallowed something really awful tasting and was having trouble swallowing it – what had I done! He partook, as not to make a scene but what a sight it was to see him reluctantly hopping around. Then, to intensify things, we folk danced to a bit to a fiddle and drum, as the Huichols would have done. When I smiled at him, he wouldn’t even look me in the eyes and muttered some threat to me, just short of a grounding.

It was not until breakfast the next morning that we made our breakthrough, when two very hip, young men sat at our table and we struck up a wonderful conversation with them. They said how lucky they felt to have a mom who exposed them to so many unique experiences in their life as it helped them to be walking an amazing path. The fact that they were so cool in Eli’s eyes seemed to impact him more than any other influence during that weekend. From then on, he was hooked. Because of those two, wonderful men, Eli more fully embraced the journey we were taking and I could actually see a physical change in his whole demeanor.

Brant, our wonderful workshop leader, took us on a pilgrimage with homemade prayer sticks that we made in the Huichol style. It was absolutely beautiful and I felt the peace that I was praying for begin to overtake my being. We did many wonderful exercises during the day of shamanic training that I cannot recount in this article, as they are considered sacred and should be passed on by those authorized by the tribe to do so.

That evening we prepared for the sweat lodge. This was the one event that Eli chose to avoid, as it concerned him to be in the extreme heat. He did attend in order to sit outside of the lodge and participate in prayers. Brant had mentioned that it probably wouldn’t be too hot as there was a mix of people who’d never sweat before and some were a bit older. I think he saw the slight look of disappointment on my face when I told him that I liked “hot lodges.” I learned a valuable lesson that day and it was to never challenge a sweat leader about the temperature of their lodge, as they will be more than happy to meet your expectations.

Sweat Lodge

It had been years since I’d done a sweat and I had been craving one so deeply. You see, sweat lodges are like church for me, as they are the place that I truly still my mind and open up to the possibilities of what is true in my life. As well, it purifies the heck out of the body, mind and spirit. One of the participants had volunteered to spend the day heating up the rocks to prepare the lodge for everyone. The sky was beautiful and chocked full of stars, and the fire was blazing. We lined up, females first, and crawled into the lodge. As we entered, I quietly spoke the traditional words, “All my relations,” and took my seat among the group. One young woman, Rachael, ended up being my buddy for the weekend and we sat next to each other in anticipation of what was next.

The rocks that are brought in to heat the lodge are referred to as grandfathers. All objects in nature, according to most indigenous people of the Americas, are believed to have a spirit. It is the wisdom of these grandfathers, and all of our relations past and present, that would fill us with what we need during this experience. The blazing, hot rocks were carefully placed into the pit. The glow was comforting in the darkness of the cramped space but as I counted their arrival, my heart began to beat a bit faster. We had passed a dozen hot rocks and more were on their way. Having sweat in the past, I was accustomed to about eight or so rocks for the first round of heat. The realization quickly hit me that this was going to be an immensely hot lodge.

The doors closed and the water hit the stones like a comet. Our small space immediately filled with steam and I lowered my head to find cooler air to breathe. As the heat intensified, a woman behind me began to panic. Other women comforted her but she would not relax into the experience. Throughout the entire first round, she cried about how hot she felt, and at the end of the first round, she was excused. At points during that first round, Brant moved us into prayer and it felt good. When the doors were opened after that first round, about ten participants toppled over those remaining to make an expedient exit. I have never shied away from going the full four rounds of a sweat but for the first time, I considered this strategy. I know it’s often said that when you are pure, the lodge doesn’t cause so much pain. Knowing that I was far from pure in my ability to focus, I realized that I needed to remain for all four rounds, no matter how intense the heat became.

The second and third rounds were hotter than the first by double, and I feared my skin would peel off or that I would pass out. Each time the door opened, more people scuttled through the doorway to freedom from the oppressive heat inside, but I knew I had to overcome the discomfort and endure this as part of my purification. Every so often, Brant would turn around and ask how “Buffalo girl” was doing (my given nickname for the weekend). I responded that I was fine and even though I tried to look calm, he must have known I was struggling within. After all, he is a shaman. Four challenging rounds later, I crawled out, feeling lighter than I had in months. I was free of troubling and mindless thoughts and had a renewed strength and confidence, having endured such a potent test of spirit.

Eli smiled as I told him of my experience and said, “Boy, if you had problems with the heat, can you imagine what I would have been like?” We smiled and walked back to our cabin for a good nights sleep.

By Sunday morning, my son and I were feeling sad about leaving our new found friends and this amazing place. What a transformation we both felt as a result of participating in this amazing weekend event. It was really a turning point for Eli in his teen years to have this experience. He actually asked if we could go to the next event in the beginning of August, which was supposed to be absolutely amazing!

If you’re body, mind and spirit could use a little infusion of shamanic adventure, inspiration and transformation; look up the Dance of the Deer workshops! Keep in mind that a portion of the funds raised for these seminars, along with the Shaman chocolates and jewelry that are sold, go to the people of the Huichol tribe in order to support their culture.

See Dance of the Deer Foundation for more information on Huichol Shamanism