Warm welcome
For centuries, indigenous cultures have used sweat lodge ceremonies to heal the body and mind. Now, one of North America’s largest mental health hospitals is firing up one of its own for First Nations patients
The ceremony begins when red-hot stones, or “grandfathers,” are carefully delivered by a fire keeper to the centre of a sweat lodge. Rick Rogers, the elder leading the sweat, and his assistants welcome them in Ojibway. They are said to contain spirits. Outside the domed hut, a full moon glows and wind shakes the trees.
A flap is shut over the small entrance and the tight space goes black, save for incandescent stones and shimmering skin. About 25 men and women sit on a bed of fragrant cedar around the stones. Heat hits in waves as the rocks are doused with water from a cedar bough. Singing and drumming start to my left. At first, each participant is invited to say aloud what they are grateful for – some give thanks for their health; for others it’s their family, including their ancestors. In the second round, we’re led in a prayer for loved ones and asked to make a personal request to the creator. I ask for patience. After about five minutes the heat becomes insufferable. My skin feels like it is melting. I panic and think my heart may stop if I don’t get some fresh air.
This sweat lodge ceremony is an ancient indigenous ritual that symbolizes rebirth (even the structure is built to represent the womb of Mother Earth and the willow branches that frame it are her ribs). The ceremony is said to clean and detoxify the mind, body and spirit. A part of indigenous culture for hundreds of years, ceremonies take place in communities across Canada, including reserves and tourist destinations such as this one: the Museum of Ontario Archeology in London, Ont., where an Iroquois village stood 500 years ago and sustained about 2,000 people, according to the museum.
More recently, however, mainstream health centres have begun to show interest in the ritual’s healing capabilities. Last month, Toronto’s Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) became the first hospital in Ontario to have a working sweat lodge.
At CAMH, the sweat lodge represents the commitment to the recommendations outlined by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which wrapped up last year, Renee Linklater, director of the hospitals aboriginal engagement and outreach, says. “Our goal is to inspire hope and faith for the future,” Linklater, who’s from Rainy River First Nations, says. “We’re hoping to set a model and a precedent for being able to incorporate indigenous culture in our mainstream health-care system in a very balanced and respectful way.”
David Zimmer, Ontario’s minister of indigenous relations and reconciliation, says the province committed $250-million over a three-year period to bolster programs such as indigenous-oriented health care.
“The sweat lodge and medicine garden represent the rebuilding of relationships embedded in understanding and respect,” he says. “If you’re here at CAMH, you can come out and use the sweat lodge, sit by the fire, listen to the drums, sit on these lovely log benches and just contemplate nature, reflect on the spirit world. That’s healing.”
Currently, the ceremonies are open to indigenous patients at CAMH, but there’s potential for others from different backgrounds to take part in the future.
CAMH isn’t the only health facility offering sweat-lodge ceremonies in the city. The Anishnawbe Health Centre – which provides culturally appropriate health services to Toronto’s indigenous community – has been conducting sweats on the property multiple times a week for about 13 years.
The ancient practice has withstood the tests of time and policies of assimilation. Rick Rogers, 63, was severed from his cultural heritage at a young age, but he says he returned to traditional ceremonies for help after reconnecting with his Anishinaabe heritage. He has been leading sweat-lodge ceremonies for more than 20 years in Ontario.
Historically, sweat lodges were for men, Rogers says, but many women and youth now benefit. The sweat lodge ritual affects each person differently, but it is supposed to bring about purity through reflection, thankfulness and introspection. Many who go use it as a form of therapy.
A few teenagers attended the London ceremony, including Cheyenne White, a traditional dancer from the nearby Oneida Nation. She’s been going to this particular sweat lodge for about 18 months.
“I have really bad anxiety, depression and all that,” she says. “I came here and it helped get that stuff out. You don’t feel singled out, you feel like you belong. You become almost family with everybody here.”
There were a few non-indigenous people present, too. Robert Wayne Keir, 70, assumed the role of fire keeper (the person responsible for placing the hot stones in the lodge) during the ceremony and has taken part in many sweats with his son, who’s half-indigenous.
“We’ve never said no to someone who wants to come to the ceremony at the lodge if they need to,” Rogers says.
Toronto’s Anishnawbe Health Centre is also inclusive, holding sweat-lodge ceremonies for two-spirited individuals, transgender, men, women and youth.
Historically, the hides of animals such as buffalo or bear were used to cover the lodge’s domed frame, but in London a thick army-grade tarp covers the enclosure. Aside from the tarp, everything is as authentic as possible: the ceremony is led by an indigenous elder, offerings of tobacco and food are given to the fire as a sign of thanks and cedar is cast on the ground before entering the area out of respect.
A small, dirt path leads from an eastern facing door toward a large fire where the stones used for the ceremony are heated up for the better part of the day. The heat is determined by the number of stones added to the centre – in certain cases, there can be as many as 30 and the heat is so strong that all jewellery must be removed to avoid being burned. Some in attendance say they have hallucinated and experienced profound visions during the ritual.
A little hallucination may not be a bad thing. The longer I thought about the heat, the more it hurt. Diverting my concentration helped keep my anxiety at bay. When the sweat finished, I felt sedate, but shaky. But any troubles, including my panic, have dissipated like a dream.