The dirt beneath him felt cool; the air stifling hot. Ted was close to the rocks, and he held a towel over his face as the burning sensation intensified. He prayed hard, and at one point wanted to panic. For some reason, the thought of the Sedona Sweat Lodge tragedy came into his thinking, and he felt the ground with one hand; the other hand firmly clasped the towel to his nose and mouth. He had balled up some sage, and placed it in the towel, so he breathed in its scent and tried to keep from over thinking his physical state through the prayers he ran in isolation through his mind. The singing was going on still, and he almost felt like putting his head down on the ground near the back of the sweatlodge, lifting the flap, and taking a deep breath of cool air. He did not. “You will be okay. Nothing can hurt you here,” spiritual guidance told him. Ted prayed harder, deep in the recesses of his own mind the many issues and reasons that had brought him to sweat on this day flowed fo...
Native American author, fictional and academic. Thoughts, philosophies, and interpretations from a Native Lakota Sioux Woman's Perspective.