Facing the Heat: a Temazcal Ceremony in Tulum, Mexico
It’s dark. My back leans against the stone wall of a dome lined with strangers packed shoulder to shoulder. I’m hunched on the floor, knees to chest, elbows on knees, head bowing to the earth, breathing slow. I’m drenched in the sweat that is relentlessly pouring out of every pore on my body in a vain effort to stay cool in an enclosed space choked with steam. There’s drumming. And singing. I can only make out some of the words; they’re not in my mother tongue, but I understand what they are saying. My body is vibrating. A buzz running from fingertip to fingertip, all the way down to my feet.
This is where I found myself, around 10am on a Sunday morning, in a cultural hub in the centre of Tulum, Mexico, just two days after my 26th Birthday. Why, you may ask? When a dear friend of mine heard I would be travelling around Mexico, they suggested I take part in a Temazcal ceremony. I’d never heard of it before, but their description of a transformative sweat lodge experience definitely piqued my curiosity, and any recommendation of theirs comes with a stamp of approval I inherently trust.
And so I sought out a Temazcal, without too much in the way of expectations. I found one running during the few days I was spending in Tulum, at a place called Botanica. According to the description on their website,
“In ancient Mesoamerica, the Temazcal was used as part of a curative ceremony thought to purify the body after exertion such as after a battle or a ceremonial ball game. It was also used for healing the sick, improving health, and for women to give birth. The Temazcal continues to be used today in Indigenous cultures of North & South and Central America that were part of the ancient rituals for spiritual healing and health enrichment reasons. This is an opportunity to work with the 4 elements and create a space of sensory deprivation, imitating the mothers womb and giving you a sense of rebirth. This sweat lodge environment allows you to reconnect with yourself and address any physical or emotional areas you want to heal.”
Upon arrival at the ceremony, it was unclear who was a participant and who was a facilitator. There was an eclectic mix of people from a variety of backgrounds, ranging in age from infancy to elder-hood. Everyone was dressed in bright colours, some brought offerings of fruit to the table while others were preparing fragrant bundles of rosemary, chamomile, thyme and lemongrass that would infuse the water that would soon become steam, and eventually my breath. A word of warning, or perhaps advice, came from one of the facilitators as she explained what to expect; ‘you’ll feel like you can’t breathe but remember that you can’.
A pain began to ring through my solar plexus, and I pressed my thumb into the space between my ribs and began slowing my breathing to calm the anticipation, and the anxious thoughts that had already begun to rear their ugly heads. We were all encouraged to take a pinch of tobacco, and offer it with our intention to the fire. For this ceremony I asked to learn more of the ancestors I don’t know the names of; the ones beyond the generations I’ve heard stories of, the ones from other lifetimes I can’t recall. As I gave my offering, I felt the intensity of the fire that was heating the stones soon to be brought in to ceremony.
We lined up, along with another 20 or so others to be smudged (blessed with smoke) by two of the shamans before entering the Temazcal. It seems no mistake to me that you should have to drop to all fours, forehead to earth to fit through the small opening just to enter the Temazcal. It is an act of humbling yourself to the earth, to be brought to your knees. To bow. To give thanks.
And that’s how the ceremony began. With gratitude. Gratitude for every scorching hot stone, delivering the spirit of the grandmother to a central pit. We gave thanks, again and again. Thanks for being there, for gathering in ceremony, for all of the elements, for all those present, for spirit, for guidance, for Pachamama.
Just when it felt like it couldn’t get much hotter, the door was closed. Sealing out the light, and in the heat. And then the steam came. The sizzling sound accompanied the burning sensation of the lining of my nose let me know within two breaths that wouldn’t be breathing through my nose as I’d hoped. I should mention here that I have a fear of drinking contaminated water, ever since a traumatising experience I had vomiting to the point of abdominal cramping in Bali a few years ago (one of the not-so-glamorous travel stories I didn’t share at the time). I wasn’t sure if the water being poured over the stones was clean, and so I’d hoped to seal my lips shut to avoid ingesting anything, but in that moment I had no choice but to surrender to the moment; there was nothing I could do now, I had to breathe. The air felt thick, it was almost painful to breathe in, and I could see how easy it could be to begin to panic and hyperventilate, but I kept my breath as slow and consistent as I could.
The heat only intensified with further dousing of the hot stones, and the chanting began as we called in the first of the four elements. Somehow singing felt easier than just exhaling, and I began to understand why people are encouraged to make sound while giving birth. It was cathartic, the sound; it helped energy move through me. The sensation and the intensity, though I’ve never experienced birth myself (apart from the time I was the baby in the equation), was like a (re)birthing. Giving birth and being born all at the same time. I felt the spirit of the grandmother, the wise elder guiding with a gentle yet powerful hand, from a place of knowing, of deep calm and encouragement. I used my own hands to comfort myself - I held my own shoulders, my legs, my back, my skin slick with sweat, and I felt soothed by my own touch. Perhaps the grandmother was not something external, but coming from inside. The ancestral connection I was seeking was within me.
Between each round, the door opened to let out some of the steam, and to welcome in fresh hot stones. Each time was a marker - of how far we’d come, but how far we still had to go. Each round called me to dig a little deeper, to tap into my meditation practice, and I surprised myself with my ability to persevere through the discomfort.The end of the third round brings me to where we began this story. The buzzing sensation had slowly intensified and I was relieved when I heard a call for a break. Back on hands and knees on my way out, I pressed my forehead to the earth once again, with an even greater depth of gratitude for simply being alive.
I felt my hands beginning to seize, curling up as if they were trying to fit into tight sleeves. I glanced up at my partner, his brows furrowed in an expression of concern. Don’t worry, I said. I know what this is. I was experiencing Tetany (I’m thankful I was already aware of this due to breath work training I’d had as a yoga teacher) - Tetany is the involuntary seizing of the muscles creating a temporary paralysis, usually the hands and feet, in response to rapid changes within your biochemistry.
Despite my best efforts to breathe slowly and exhale fully, there clearly was something energetic that I’d been holding onto. Perhaps it was my fear of the water that was holding me back from fully immersing in the experience. I was shaky and felt faint; I could hardly stand while one of the Shamans poured cold water over my head, and he sat me down once he noticed my contorted hands.
Before I knew it I was surrounded by several of the facilitators, who did an impeccable job of holding space for me - with eyes closed, I received their support, the first shaman massaged my hands to help release the muscles, the second fed me a glass of water infused with something as I couldn’t use my hands to hold the cup myself (which I drank in full trust, knowing that if it would make me sick, that was part of the medicine). A third rubbed an oil blend on my head, neck and shoulders, and a fourth, the woman who had welcomed us spoke to me; ‘there is something deep within you that wants to be released, I need you to breathe it out, let it go’.
After several minutes and another dousing with cold water I heard the first shaman’s voice again, ‘estás aquí’ - you’re here. You’re here. I had regained use of my hands and felt significantly lighter, if a little shaken. They were preparing to head back in for the final round and asked if I was coming. ‘Should I?’, I asked, to which I was met with an unequivocal ‘yes’ from this kind woman. She made space for me near the door and sat by me in case I needed support or had to leave.
The last round was even more stifling than the last three. The steam, and therefore my breath was so hot that I felt as though I was burning my own skin when I exhaled. The heat conducted on the thin silver piercings I had left in my ears. I could feel my internal temperature rising. Still, we drummed and sang and gave thanks and somehow, some undefined period of time later, it was all over. Once I was outside again, the Shaman who had sat with me asked how I felt. ‘You look like a different person’ he said. And I felt it.
We hung around for some time after, in a bit of a daze, sharing words of thanks with our guides. Eating bananas as I was told by the elders to keep my potassium levels up. Many of them commented that there hadn’t been one this hot in quite some time. Vulnerable words and warm hugs were shared between relative strangers as we shared in the offerings of fruit and water. Several people were clearly regulars and there was a true sense of community that warmly welcomed anyone who might step through their doors.
I took my time sitting with the altars they had created; each item placed carefully and with intention, reverence for the generosity of the earth evident in the offerings of corn, beans and pumpkin seeds, the four cardinal directions marked out on the altar. The same dear friend who recommended the ceremony to me also gave me a mayan astrology reading before I left. My Nahual (guardian spirit) is Kan, (depicted as the serpent, representing evolution & intuition) is accompanied by the number 4, a nod to the four directions, like four pillars supporting a house. I’m curious to learn more about what this might mean for me; what skins are waiting to be shed, what evolutions are still to occur, what I might have to learn from this ancient Mayan wisdom.
Almost everyone had left, and we were yet to pay for our spaces. It was only as we were offering our payment to the collective basket and talking to one of the organisers that I discovered Botanica runs these community Temazcals to help fund their social enterprise work, supporting at-risk local families in the area with access to food, healthcare and education.
I had already been thinking about ways to travel that are both sustainable for the planet, respectful of the culture and beneficial for the local communities (I’ll share another post with my thoughts on this soon), and so I was so pleased to hear that Botanica were doing just that, utilising the tourism market and the spiritual community that gravitate towards this place to provide an authentic cultural experience delivered by local elders that feeds right back into the hands of the communities from which it comes. A highly recommend them if you’re in the area and curious to experience a Temazcal yourself.
A month or so later, I’m still integrating the lessons from this experience. Wondering what exactly it was that was stuck within me, what it was that I released that day. Needless to say, whatever it was I feel better for it being gone. I’m living with less fear, soaking in the colours. Paying gratitude to the land, all the elements, the directions, every living being on this earth, each day as I wake and greet the rising sun. What is that, if not the ancestral wisdom I was looking for?
Want to learn more?
Botanica Website, Community Temazcal https://www.botanicatulum.com/temazcal
Botanica’s community project https://www.instagram.com/botanicacommunityproject/
Temazcal Description https://www.journeymexico.com/blog/temazcal-ceremony-guide
Medical Description of Tetany https://www.healthline.com/health/tetany
Spiritual Interpretation of Tetany https://alchemyofbreath.com/understanding-tetany-and-discovering-the-treasure-within-it/#:~:text=The%20Psycho%2DSpiritual%20Tetany%20Meaning,to%20be%20let%20go%20of.