Love Me Tender

A few weekends ago I had the opportunity to act as a fire tender for a sweat lodge my friend was pouring. For those who are not familiar with lodges, the Pourer is the person who pours the water on the hot stones after they've been placed in the lodge and the door has been closed. The Fire Tender is the one (or more persons) who starts and tends the fire that heats the stones, then puts the stones into the lodge at the beginning of each of the four 'rounds.'

Anyway, my friend has been doing a series of lodges as she becomes more confident in her abilities to pour -- which entails a lot more than just splashing water on hot rocks! -- and I've been helping with the fire. The funny thing is that for awhile I'd been getting guidance not to go into the lodges, hence staying on the outside to help with the fire. Then a couple lodges ago, when I decided I would go in, my friend got the guidance that they would be women's lodges. Hence my still being on the outside with the fire.

This time, however, was the first time I was in charge of the tending rather than just helping out. I guess I lost my 'tender foot' status for being fire tender (hee-hee! Sorry... Boy Scout humor.).

The lodge itself was on a Sunday and, seeing as I was reading Medicine Cards at a book store that was more than half way to my friend's property that Saturday, I just headed up and stayed over the night before. Another friend was already there, and I instantly knew this was going to be an interesting lodge because she could not stop laughing. Coyote, the Native Americans' trickster spirit, is very much present at these particular lodges, and judging by my friend's, very contagious, state I could tell that Coyote had arrived early.

The next day our spirits were generally similar, and I couldn't stop punning. I also couldn't stop singing. Any thing anyone said would elicit a song rising from my lips -- Everything from Captain & Tennille and The Carpenters to Johnny Cash ("Love is a burning thing/And it makes a fiery ring..."). It was a Sweat La-la-lodge!

Silliness aside, it was a very good learning experience in listening to my intuition, as well as to the spirits who were co-creating this ceremony with us. Going to the wood pile, I listened to see which of the spirits of the logs wished to be part of this event, particularly the eight flat logs that form a table at the base of the the impending flamage, where the stones (in this case 30 of them) get stacked up to have the fire built around them. And helping to pick which stones from the rock pile, I got to listen to which stone spirits were basically jumping up and down going, "Me! Me! Me! Me!"

And in actually stacking the stones it takes a lot of listening and paying attention, but as I held each stone I had gathered, I knew exactly where to place it. It was remarkable to me that we were stacking 30 lava rocks, each at least the size of a cantaloupe, yet had no trouble keeping the growing mound from tumbling. Next came a row of smaller logs standing on end and encircling the aforementioned mound, with a mix of smaller kindling and paper, and a final row of small logs on top of the bottom row which formed the roof of our wooden dome -- all done with mindfulness and with awareness of the beings I was working with. I asked permission of every log I placed around the stones, and interestingly enough, the answer was not always, "Yes."

So flash forward to the roaring fire. While the others are off making their prayer ties and changing into their lodge clothes, I stand my post, nudging the fire here, adding a log there -- but only after asking permission. "Can I put another log on?" "Not yet."

As a kid we used to camp, pretty much every weekend in the summer time, and we always had a fire. Most of the time I was the one making it and then my entire family would sit around, each of us with our own personal 'poking stick,' and we would take turns poking the fire -- so I learned at an early age the interplay and dance between fire, air, and wood. And now as I listened to the fire spirits, I realized I'd always heard them. I was doing the same thing as I always did -- watching the fire and suddenly getting an intuitive tug, "Oh, a log in that position would be good" or "That log needs to be stood upright to allow more air flow" -- like fitting pieces of a puzzle together and the feeling of completion when something finds its rightful place. And there were times I couldn't help laughing because, as soon as I would jockey the wood around, the wind would always pick up, as if someone had just worked the bellows to breathe new life into the embers.

And when the time to begin the lodge drew near, the stones literally began rolling out of the fire, as if to say, "Okay! We're ready! Let's get this show on the road!" And, on the other hand, when it became time to carry the stones into the lodge, there were certain stones that, no matter how much I tried, refused to stay on the pitchfork -- some of them actually rolling back into the fire. "I'm not ready yet!"

As with most things, it is not the major light show that most people might expect or desire, but it really is that small, still voice within. A voice so subtle it is easy to miss, and which takes a lot of practice to hear again after having it trained out of us.

When the lodge was complete, and we had finished the potluck feast that followed, I was sitting on the couch opposite of where my friend was sitting, and she suddenly looked at me and asked, "Did you burn a hole in your jeans?!" I looked and didn't see anything until she pointed down to the bottom of my pant leg. "Holy crap!"

There was a perfectly round hole burned through my jeans! I hadn't felt a thing, and the boots I had worn underneath bore no marks. Yet I had been unmistakably branded. I just smiled and thanked Brigit, the Celtic fire goddess under whose tutelage I currently find myself, because I took it as a badge of honor. A kiss of the Fire spirits. I had passed my initian, been accepted, and was now officially a fire tender.

Tomorrow I will tend fire again for a lodge my friend will pour, but just as I feel I'm getting the swing of things, I'm being moved beyond my comfort zones. This time we'll be at a lodge I've never been to, with some people I've never met and who have been brought up with the particulars of certain traditions. Yoiks! There will, however, be many friends there as well, and my focus will be supporting my friend in her first pouring outside her own lodge, as well as supporting another friend who will be sweating in preparation of her up coming vision quest.

As long as I remember that, and not worry about doing right or wrong in other peoples' eyes, I'll be fine. Well, actually I'll be fine no matter what happens. :)