I go to a chiropractor’s office pretty regularly.

I get my spine cracked every once in a while and will have Dr. S. work on particular spots in order to open up pinched nerves I must create when I sleep or when I burrow into the crease of my couch for a night of binge-watching TV in a bad position.

But, I mostly go for other therapies.  Sitting in their infrared sauna supports ongoing detoxing, which, I believe, is good for health, in general.

I never liked beach vacations.  Besides sunburn and sand flies, sweat would be everywhere, shortening the life of even the most well-made swimwear. I also have a bad memory of dancing at a club when I was in my twenties.  Totally in to the music, I remember having a great time until another clubber came up to me and declared, “You are really sweating!”

I know some like it hot… but sweat ruined heat for me.

Sweating is smelly and messy and uncontrollable.

The irony is not lost on me; that I would drive through traffic and pay for the privilege of sweating in a hot wooden box every week, a place where the temperature is not just kind of hot, but is very hot. Cruising temperature might be 120-131 degrees.

I can only take in the trashiest of trash magazines, not potentially enjoyable reading material, certainly nothing from the library or a paperback borrowed from a friend. Sitting naked on the little wooden bench, unable to concentrate on anything besides my discomfort, sweat will roll down from my cheeks and forehead and either get stuck on my eyelashes, blurring my vision, or will run down onto the open page in front of me and smear the ink.

And I’ll stay in this little closet for about 30 minutes, looking at the red glowing numerals of the display; the temperature going up as the time remaining comes down.

I understand that there’s a strong Native American tradition of sweat lodges and participating in sweats.  In other parts of the world, too, there are similar traditions.

Gathering a group together in a hut or dome made out of natural materials to sweat carries a spiritual significance.  It is not uncommon to say prayers or sing songs.  Very often, leaders of sweat lodges have to be trained, almost serving as a sort of officiate.

Sweating is generally viewed as a form of cleansing and healing.

Sweating in the little wooden house at my chiro’s office is a solitary, not a group, experience for me.  The room is clear and quiet, not filled with the holy hum of chanting or aromatic and penetrating swirls of smoke.

Still, my visits to the hot wooden box have been very spiritual in an unexpected ways.

I’ve lived most of my life in my head.  My attention is usually directed to whatever thought occupies my head space at a given time.

For me, cleansing usually involves an experience when, through journaling or talking to a very close friend, I can excavate a perspective or belief that lies under more habitual thoughts or behaviors.

While some might extol the transformative power of OUT OF BODY experiences, I have noticed myself growing in patience and self-acceptance through my IN BODY sessions in the little wooden house.

Sweating in the sauna has forced me to be more conscious of my body, more appreciative of being IN my body.  I cannot do much while inside – except BE with myself.

Not one to easily slip into a visualization — I can’t envision columns of light coming out of the crown of my head, connecting me to the light and grace of the universe when I sit down to meditate —  yet, I can imagine impurities, whether toxic chemicals that have settled in my cells or thoughts that have held me back from living fearlessly, coming to the surface of my skin as I sweat.

When beads of sweat form on my skin, where they can evaporate into the atmosphere or roll down my limbs to be absorbed in a cotton terrycloth towel, I feel confident that they’re actually no longer inhabiting me.  I can see them and can think about what they represent.  This thought renews me.

I am encouraged – I feel lighter — when I step out of the sauna.  Each time I go to sweat, it seems that I can tolerate a longer stay or a higher temperature.

Living through what I once didn’t think I could tolerate is no small thing.