If you ask anyone who has had a transformative spiritual experience – the kind that gifts a person clarity and perspective beyond the realm of the physical – where exactly they happened to have this experience, chances are they’ll tell you that it was deep in the desert, in the belly of a cathedral or in the mystical jungles of Peru. They’re unlikely to tell you that it was in the spa of a W Hotel. However, when I visited Mexico City for the first time, it was here; specifically at the W in the upmarket district of Polanco, that I had a transcendent spiritual encounter.
I recently spent a couple of weeks in Mexico and during this time I sought out experiences that promised to support improved health and wellbeing. I took part in yoga classes and cacao rituals on the beach in Cancun, visited crystal emporiums and rubbed shoulders with “light workers” in Tulum, and attempted to practice mindfulness and gratitude while wandering through the ancient ruins of Chichen Itza. I submerged myself in cenotes, soaked up the sun and repeated mantras in well meaning but fairly broken Spanish. I also decided to try my first Temazcal ceremony.
Before arriving in Mexico, I had read up on the traditional Meso-American ceremony, which involves sitting in a domed sweat lodge for anywhere between 30 minutes to two hours, while a shaman increases the heat by pouring a “tea” of medicinal herbs over hot coals and recites incantations. I had read that the experience could be overwhelming and should not be undertaken lightly – partially because of the extreme temperatures but also because of the emotional reactions that could take place.
I’m a fan of the heat and find sauna culture in all its forms to be a great healer. Saunas and sweat lodges can be weird and they can be uncomfortable – as I found when I tried the Russian ritual of Parenie for the first time – but overall, I believe the positive physical and mental effects of heat exposure can be life changing. As long as you’re practicing safely and following expert advice, the heat can do a lot for you – whether you’re using an infrared sauna blanket or doing contrast therapy at your local wellness club. Due to this philosophy, I wasn’t at all daunted by the prospect of sitting in a pitch-black dome at 50 degrees celsius.
The practice of Temazcal is an ancient one conceived by the indigenous cultures of Mexico and Central America. Aztec codexes depict Temazcal ceremonies, so we’re looking at a wellbeing ritual that was documented by Europeans at least 500 years ago but that is understood to be a far older practice.
The stones in the centre of the lodge are referred to as the “abuelitas”, the W Hotel’s resident shaman Rodrigo tells me. “We call them the grandmothers because they hold the wisdom of the earth,” he says. Rodrigo explains that before we can enter the lodge to meet our grandmothers we have to be purified, so I close my eyes and open my arms, allowing myself to be wreathed in the sweet smoke billowing from a copalero. From the balcony I observe Mexico City’s mad traffic and stained billboards as I’m dutifully cloaked in sage.
In just a swimsuit I wonder if I’m underdressed. I’m expecting to sweat a lot, but Rodrigo is wearing a thick woven sarong and glasses, so I wonder if I’ve overestimated the heat inside the dome. I’ll soon learn that this is an incredibly foolish thought. It’s warm inside as we step in but things are about to get much, much hotter and in a few minutes my limits will be truly tested.
Rodrigo tells me a little about the healing herbs in the tea, the history of Temazcal, how the lodges were originally made and the origin of the volcanic stones in the centre of the small dark room. The domes themselves are intended to represent the womb and the experience itself is equivalent to a rebirth. Inside the dome, you come face to face with nature and to your primal self and in doing so, level up and leave your previous self behind.
Minutes in I’m sweating and after just fifteen, my skin is slick with moisture. I can feel my eyelashes soaked through and I feel nauseated. Usually I can stay in a sauna for about forty minutes before I feel lightheaded but standard saunas aren’t as hot as this. Plus, the water vapour in here is thick and herbaceous, almost smoky from the tea of sweetgrass and mugwort being poured over the coals.
I screw up my face and, fighting the urge to heave, I try to get closer to the ground where it’s cooler, planting my feet against the stone floor and pushing my head between my legs. Breathing deeply would usually help in a situation like this, but I’ve been advised to breathe gently and with good reason – deeper breaths feel like my lungs are being toasted by the boiling air.
At this point all I can focus on is the sensation and the words Rodrigo is speaking. Fully in my body, my mind isn’t able to wander, so as he tells me to think about my childhood and all the water, woodlands and animals I encountered. So, I do. In my mind’s eye I see frogs and newts, and imagine playing in ponds and rivers, smelling the bark of trees and walking yellow clay paths. Rodrigo tells me about the fine balance of nature and how there is no “good” or “bad”, there is only “what is” and I’m surprised at how easily I can comprehend this.
As I’m suffering in the heat, I feel as though I’ve opened up a divine hotline and tapped straight into the oneness of everything. Thoughts like, “no rain, no flowers” and “everything is everything” fill my head and I start to cry. It’s at this moment that the visions behind my eyelids become incredibly clear and the shaman’s words drift into the background. I still feel sick but I feel strangely okay with that. He’s talking about feeling at peace and moving beyond those who have hurt me, letting go of pain and resentment, becoming wiser.
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I have no idea how long I’ve been in the pitch-black dome but it feels like an eternity, so I feel overcome by gratitude when the curtain is drawn back allowing cool clean air inside. I sip a bottle of water and revel in the brutality of fire and earth, and the softness and generosity of air and water. I feel like factory settings have been restored as I slowly climb out of the brick womb and try to breathe normally.
I’m advised to drink plenty of water and take it easy for the rest of the day. Some people find that Temazcal energises them and others feel depleted by it. I find myself in the latter category and very much in need of a swim and a lie down afterwards, but the ideas that had struck me during the experience continue to dominate my thoughts for days afterward. I feel more resilient and reflective but also very sensitive – it’s a hard feeling to explain. My skin is also soft and glowing and I’ve sweated so much that I’m craving a jug of electrolytes.
Temazcal is certainly not for the faint of heart, or those sensitive to heat. The temperatures alone require a strong stomach and the emotions it can bring up can be unsettling. However, if you think you can handle climbing into a windowless cavern that looks like a spaceship and subjecting yourself to soaring temperatures and herbal vapours for as long as you can stand it, I highly recommend the experience. As luck would have it, you don’t have to venture into the jungle to find a practiced shaman. Just be aware that when Rodrigo at the W asks you if you’re “ready to fly” he isn’t messing around.
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