Hot and dark are the words that immediately come to mind when I try to describe my first time participating in a sweat lodge ceremony, but it was much more than just a physical experience.

Dr. Lisa Pennington is an associate professor of elementary education at Governors State University and a descendant of the Peskotomuhkati Indigenous people. Thanks to some Indigenous practitioners and an Intellectual Life Grant, she organized a workshop and sweat lodge ceremony for GovState students, faculty, and community members. This is the second year she has organized the event.

Brian Frejo (Pawnee, Seminole), a traditional knowledge keeper, and Sarina Thate Othunwaahe DiMaso (Chiricahua Apache, Oglala Lakota), a behavioral health prevention counselor and traditional cultural advisor, facilitated the workshop and ceremony.

In the workshop, we were told about the deep spiritual significance and the intense physical and emotional cleansing a sweat lodge ceremony offers. Brian explained the history, tradition and purpose of the sweat lodge. Still, nothing could have prepared me for the experience itself.

I had begun my day with a quiet walk through the forest. Morel mushrooms grow in our area for a few weeks every year, and searching for the short-lived delicacy is one of my favorite spring activities. My foray ended early when a massive thunderstorm rolled through the area and sent me out of the forest completely soaked and without any mushrooms.

When I arrived that evening at Sarina’s property on the Kankakee River, where the sweat lodge was built, I did not tell my story of getting rained on earlier in the day just a few miles away. However, as he tended to a large fire, Brian described how rainstorms can be cleansing. He said he heard his first thunder of the year during the storm earlier that day, symbolizing that the spring season’s blessings were upon us.

Brian explained that the large stones inside the fire were called “grandfathers.” When the grandfathers were ready, and the logs around them turned to ash, the rocks would roll from the fire. Not too long after he said this, the grandfathers began to roll.

The sweat lodge is a small, dome-shaped structure made from bent willow saplings and covered with thick blankets and tarps. It resembles a cave or an igloo and is humble but inviting.

To begin the ceremony, women harvested cedar branches and shared them with the men in the group. Before entering the lodge, we each took a moment to set our intention and think about what we wanted to release and what we hoped to gain. I felt a mixture of nervousness and curiosity. I was unsure what to expect, but eager to open myself to the process.

Inside, the air was cool, with a small pit in the center where hot stones would be placed. As the ceremony began, Frejo told us about the medicine that would be used. These medicines included cedar, sage and sweetgrass. The cedar branches were placed around the pit before a volunteer carefully brought seven heated stones through the door using a pitchfork. After the door was secured so that no light could be seen, water was poured over the grandfathers, releasing bursts of steam that quickly filled the space. The heat rose rapidly, enveloping us in a thick, warm embrace.

The lodge was pitch dark except for the occasional flickering light of the medicine as it burned on glowing red stones. Rhythmic chanting and the songs Brian and Sarina sang transported me to a different place in my mind. The heat was intense, but I did not begin to sweat in the first round.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I told myself after the door opened.

The door was only opened briefly between rounds. When this happened, cool air flowed into the lodge, offering temporary relief from the heat. By the second round, sweat poured down my face and soaked my clothes. The burning medicine entered my nose and lungs, adding to the experience. I focused on my breath; it was challenging sometimes, but I let it ground me.

As the ceremony progressed, I felt the layers of tension and worry melting away. Memories and emotions surfaced, some joyful, others painful. I don’t think I cried, but I came close. There was a profound sense of connection to myself, the earth, and the people gathered with me.

The chants and songs created a sacred rhythm that carried us through the rounds of steam and silence. Each time the door opened briefly to add more stones, the fresh air was a welcome relief before the heat returned.

I do not know how long we were in the lodge or how many rounds we went through. We were not allowed to bring phones or watches, and we were discouraged from recording any parts of the ceremony.

When the ceremony ended, we stepped out into the cool evening air. My body felt heavy but light at the same time, as if I had shed an invisible weight. My mind was clearer, and my heart felt open.

Sarina told us we had entered the lodge as friends but left as family. I could feel the connection she was speaking of.

That first sweat lodge experience was more than just a physical challenge. It might also be described as a spiritual rebirth. It reminded me of the power of vulnerability, the importance of intention, and the healing that comes from surrendering to the moment. I left with a deep respect for the tradition and a desire to return. As Brian and Sarina told us, I could understand that each ceremony offers a unique inward journey.

If you ever get to participate in a sweat lodge ceremony, I highly recommend it. Approach it with respect, openness and a willingness to let go, and you might discover a profound transformation waiting for you.