Embracing the Heat: My Transformative Temazcal Journey in Antioquia
- Coach Samantha
- Sep 4, 2024
- 7 min read
The ancient practice of Temazcal, a traditional sweat lodge ceremony, offers more than just physical purification—it is a profound journey of spiritual renewal and emotional release. As I prepared to enter the dark, womb-like structure nestled in the lush mountains of Antioquia, Colombia, waves of apprehension swept over me. Could I endure the intense heat? Would I confront long-buried fears in the confined space? Yet, beneath the anxiety, a quiet voice urged me to focus on my breath, to trust the process. Little did I know, this experience would not only challenge my physical limits but also offer deep insights and healing, guiding me towards a renewed sense of purpose and connection.
Our fears are often much greater than reality. I was initially really apprehensive—what would the heat feel like? Would it be too intense? Usually, I can't stay in saunas for more than a few minutes when the heat is really dry and hot. Would I feel claustrophobic? Would I be afraid of the dark? What would happen if someone struggled, scaring me and setting me off? Minutes before we entered, all these thoughts started to cross my mind.
We lined up to have our energy cleared with sacred smoke and ceremony. My dear friend, a shaman who has been a guiding presence in my healing journey since I arrived in Colombia almost two years ago, led us through a series of yoga postures and a meditation, preparing our bodies and minds for the intensity of the Temazcal. His soothing voice and gentle guidance allowed us to release tension and open ourselves to the transformative experience ahead. Afterward, he led us in a music ceremony, where we connected with the rhythms of nature and our inner selves. This preparation was essential, helping us enter the Temazcal with a sense of calm and readiness.
As we entered the Temazcal, I heard my inner intuition, my inner knowing, say, "Focus on your breath. If you feel stress or anxiety, or start to feel unwell, focus on your breath and it will settle." So that's what I did. We had to enter and proceed to our left, then enter the circle and choose where we wanted to sit. I took my place, not right next to the door, but close enough so I felt comfortable. We welcomed each stone as everyone gathered in their place and sat down. The gentleman who began the ceremony, the medicine doctor, proceeded to facilitate and discuss the ritual we were about to partake in. He had been doing these ceremonies since the age of 15—a rite of passage, something that has transcended through generations. His deep voice and words of wisdom guided us through a ritual practiced by our ancestors throughout the ages. I very much felt a part of this, and there was a reason why I was invited to partake in this ceremony at this time in my life.
So there I sat, in the beautiful province of Antioquia, in a beautiful mountainous setting in nature, about to undergo a ritual that would shift my perspective and release me from what was holding me back. The medicine man talked about how we returned to the womb, a dark, safe, warm place where our journey had begun—before we feared the unknown, before we were programmed into becoming lesser versions of ourselves through social conditioning. In the safety of the mother's womb, anything was possible, and we felt warm and held.
The rituals began, and as each hot stone was brought in, we welcomed it as one of the ancient grandmothers. I thought about the things I wanted to part with, leave behind, and burn in the heat. I thought about my fears, my self-doubt, and the feelings of unworthiness that I had struggled with for many years. I thought about how far I've come, and yet how far I would like to go. I was ready to step into the unknown once again, with more courage, an open heart, and an openness to life, love, and new beginnings—wherever my path in my new home of Colombia would take me.
Once the door was shut and a curtain was drawn from the outside over the door, it became dark, and the heat started to build. Water with herbs was thrown onto the stones, and Cobalt was rubbed on the stones, producing different scents for us to move through and nurture. The medicine doctor encouraged us through song and ritual. We were asked to scream—scream past hurts, aggravations, the noise of standing up for oneself that we had held back. All the pain, anxiety, fear, and anger that hadn’t been dealt with filled the chamber. As the group screamed, shouted, and some roared, the sounds were followed by cries and sobs. It was powerful, and I was amazed at how each of us was moved to deal with our different emotions.
We were invited to make the call of nature, of the Earth. The medicine doctor asked us to pick an animal, so I chose a bird and imitated its call. Then my mind went to a wolf. It spoke to not only the traditions and power behind wolves but also how I had to be a lone wolf in many ways when encountering new beginnings and new journeys in my life. I had to turn my back on a life that I needed to let go of. It was scary, it was beautiful, and we were all in each other's company while also dealing in solitude with our own demons, helping each other through the heat, chants, medicine, and healing. This allowed us to let go and move beyond our greatest fears and what tormented us—perhaps things that had been buried deep for many years.
We went through different sessions where the door would open, and we would welcome new stones, intensifying the heat, and taking us through different layers of healing, chanting, and song. The heat was not as intense as I thought, and I was never overcome to the point where I felt I needed to leave. Although there were some points where I became uncomfortable, I followed the wisdom that came from within, breathed through it, and managed to get caught up in the song and chants, often entering a meditative state. I had a flood of this feeling of knowing—a feeling of remembering that somehow, a form of my spirit had done this before, that I was simply remembering. It was beautiful to experience. I felt the presence of ancestors who had long before done this and their support and messages—honoring my journey, my path, and my soul. I felt comforted and loved.
We also thanked our mother for carrying us safely in the womb, honoring her and her position, honoring her in the difficulties faced not only during pregnancy but also in raising us throughout life. It was moving to take that moment to honor the womb that brought us forth, and also for those in the crowd that were women to receive that honor. Through the womb, every woman gives life—not only through birth but through nurturing, care, and being that source of life.
We need to understand that in changing our direction and changing our way of life—perhaps in ridding ourselves of habits and lifestyles that don’t resonate with our soul—it shakes some people around us to their core. We become their mirror, and for some, it is intensely painful because not everyone is willing to walk through that door to be reborn, like in the Temazcal. Not everyone is willing to change it all and set it all aside. Truly like our ancestors, this rebirth was for the brave—the sloughing off, like the snake, of its skin and being born anew.
All of us in the group were surprised by how much time had gone by. Once the ceremony was over, it was interesting—the door was opened, and no one wanted to rush out. We all sat there, looking at one another, after expressing words of gratitude for the ceremony, for the leaders that walked us through—the shaman, the medicine doctor who walked us through and chanted, sang, and led us safely through this return to the womb. And now, it was time to be reborn. How interesting that all of us felt nurtured and safe in this Temazcal—we were not moved to exit, to the point where the medicine doctor expressed that it was time. It was time to be reborn and to step out courageously into the new world.
So we all exited, most of us in silence, holding true to our commitment to start anew, to be reborn with courage, love, and the backing of not only everyone in that group but also knowing that our ancestors before us had crossed many rites of passage, taken brave decisions, and left so many things behind to become greater versions of themselves—stronger souls, more open to what life has to bring.
We all received personal messages—some of hope, some of love, some realizing that we still had much healing to do. What I realize is that the healing never ends. We will always have fear, and that fear has its place. From ancient times, fear has kept us safe. In today's world, many fears hold us back from taking the courageous steps to live the life we truly want. It's the fears of standing out—perhaps against a community that once nourished us, but no longer resonates. Perhaps it's leaving a job or a whole career that no longer aligns with our true self. Perhaps it's wanting to move to another country or live a nomadic lifestyle, or perhaps it's going back to a place we once lived, to revisit and start life anew. For everyone, it's different, yet the underlying feelings are the same—we're letting a part of ourselves die to have the courage to be reborn. We don't know what is ahead. There is uncertainty, and yet if we leave the "how" to the universe, the steps, in time, start to fill in, and we start to know the way to follow. But we have to make the first move, as we did when we exited the Temazcal.
This experience reminded me of the importance of staying true to one's path, no matter how difficult it may seem. We are constantly being reborn, shedding old skins, and stepping into new versions of ourselves. This process is not for the faint of heart, but it is where true growth and transformation happen. As I stepped out of the Temazcal, feeling the cool air on my skin and the earth beneath my feet, I knew I had left something behind in that sacred space. I was lighter, clearer, and ready to embrace the path ahead with renewed strength and purpose.
