Most claustrophobics stay away from small, dark, enclosed, sizzling hot places, but I thought “Hey, why not try something new? Why not see just how hot I can really get before passing out from heat exhaustion? Maybe something awesome will happen.”
Temazcal is a pre-Columbian cleansing ritual that takes place in an igloo-shaped steam bath, usually made of adobe bricks or stone. It is used to purify the mind, body, and soul and is a means to spiritual rebirth. I hadn't crossed "transcendental cleansing" off the list yet, so I bit the bullet and went--trembling the whole way--to my own personal torture chamber.
My boyfriend and I were instructed by our guia, Aurelio, to remove all metal from our bodies, which really meant stripping down to our skivvies. Bare-skinned and arms outstretched, we began asking the Gods of the North, South, East, West, Earth, and Sky to cleanse our souls and to allow us to enter the Temazcal. Then we got down on our hands and knees, crawled through the tiny opening, and took our seats on a circular brick bench inside.
Aurelio asked us why we were there and what we hoped to gain. I said I was there to fight my fears and cleanse my mind and body of negative energy. Truth be told, I’d been hopelessly underwhelmed by life back in the Concrete Jungle and I was starving for stimulation--whether by electric shock or heat-induced delusions. It wasn’t really the means I was so concerned with but the end.
The blanket went down over the tiny door and all went black. He poured water with herbs on hot volcanic rocks placed in the center and steam filled the room. And that fear I was there to fight fought back. “Katie, how is your spirit?” Aurelio could hear me trembling in the blackness and I knew even he wasn’t sure if I’d make it to the finish line. “Just remember, you came here for a reason.” My breathing slowed and I let the hotness take me out into the ether. Once I’d resolved that this might not be the worst way to go out, a sick and twisted visceral sense of pleasure swept over me. I was freer in there than I’d ever be at my cubicle. Aurelio’s assistant then lifted the blanket and fresh air poured in. It was the finest breath of fresh air I'd ever taken.
Once again, the blanket went down and he continued this process for the next hour. We chanted, rubbed our bodies down with fresh aloe plants, and we sweat so much I began to hear it drip from our bodies like water from a broken faucet.
Finally, Aurelio asked us to lie down on the floor, and there was reprieve. Somehow the brick floor was cool, and it felt wonderful against my hot, slippery body. He gently hit us with branches of fresh herbs and pressed on our backs, while chanting healing incantations aloud. I thought to myself, “I am not in New York anymore. And I can’t click my heels three times and go back. Nor do I want to.”