Sweating Bullets

I’m dying.

I do it every so often, you know.

And so I suppose it is only fitting that in this my numerological 9 year—which is completion, wrapping up another full cycle—I find myself dying again.

And it feels good.

We collect so many energies and dust mites as we go through life, and drag these behind us if we don’t clear and release them regularly… but often, life get in the way and keeps us going going going, and we forget that sort of self-care… until it reaches a point where a death becomes necessary—a shaking, shattering, breaking-open death… so that the reBirth simmering underneath is able to then break the surface, and sprout to the Light.

They tell you your entire life flashes before your eyes in your last few moments.
They’re right.
And when one keeps a journal or blog, as this technological world so easily allows these days, it is that much easier for one to review their past life, reflect on where they were, compare the contrast of where they find themselves now, and consciously choose the tweaks their Heart and the Universe prod them toward…

I’ve been going through my old posts, writings, and artwork for these very reasons.

Then one in particular came to mind—a very important key turning point for me in the past—that I discovered had not been transferred in various digital moves I’ve done with my things over the last six years. So I expanded my search to all my backed up in-house media, until at last I found it—the words and the painting that poured from me after my first Native American sweat lodge ceremony on May 31, 2008.

I feel led to share it again here, for the multi-layered reasons of archiving in the blog again, declaring its relevance and reignited intentions in this present day, and sharing it for the possible inspiration and encouragement of you who are reading.

You are loved.

— • — • — • — • —

Sweating Bullets

[The following is my account of my first experience in a Kiowa sweat lodge ceremony…]


I came to this place to die…

I came to this place to die…

I came to this place to die…



The East, South, West, and North gathered around me as I prepared to take my final breaths.

I knew full well I had come here to die today. I had willingly put myself in this situation, knowing completely what was going to happen.
As I stood silently and listened to the Winds around me, feeling their caress, I looked in to my Heart to see how I truly felt about this death.
I found no fear whatsoever there.
I felt no clinging to the life that had run its course.
I had no regret for all things done good or bad, and, in fact, could see no difference between the two.
I felt a serenity that cannot be described.
I found patient strength, Lovingly waiting for its time…


“When the fire is lit, you are lit…”


My spirit combusted along with the fire as it engulfed the stones in the most passionate orange flames I had ever seen. I stood before it, unable to move, mezmerized by the union of this fire and my soul.
I felt it surrounding
I felt it consuming
I felt it searing away my InvisibleFlesh…

My time had come.


When the stones had heated from brown to red to orange to white, I and those ten other souls fell to our knees and willingly re-entered the Womb from which we all came,
the Buffalo sheltering from the chill of the Snow,
the Native American sweat lodge ceremony we were so honored to participate in.

Day One: four of the stones were brought into the lodge and sprinkled with sage.
The door was shut, delivering us to utter darkness as water was poured upon the stones, creating steam. The sweating, purifying, and prayers had begun…

Day Two: seven more stones were brought in, increasing the heat and steam in our Womb. Songs and prayers for unity regardless of age, status, or level were offered, and we were cleansed through our pores more aggresively than before….

Day Three: ten more stones were now brought in for the Healing round. The heat and steam were now so intense a towel was needed to cover our face in order to breathe. Sweat poured from us as a waterfall.
The last of my impurities now exhausted their life. I stepped aside as I watched that body collapse to the earth and exhale its last breath.
I stared at it in amazement,
feeling that part of me gone,
I circled the body as my throat vibrated OOOOMMMM for what seemed like ages. The rattle in my hand shook with a life of its own.

There was no sadness here.
Simply amazement and… relief
that this burden and annoyance had been so vividly and Lovingly murdered…

Day Four: almost all the rest of the stones were brought into the lodge for the final round. In the near unbearable heat, with our backs aching from crouching in our Womb, I was asked to pray for all beings past, present, and future. As our purification and detoxification came to completion, I gushed forth this pure Love inside me like the sweat gushing forth from my entire being. I expressed deep gratefulness to our ancestors for preparing our way for this Life’s experience and growth and the knowledge and wisdom we tap in to, prayers for guidance and growth of all living and experiencing Life now, and welcoming all yet to come, preparing the way for those whose ancestors WE will become…


I left myself lying in that no-thing-ness.
I crawled out of the Womb,
reborn and rejuvenated,
experienced breathing again for the very first time,
tasted the most delicious food imaginable,
gaped at the stars and the lightning for the first time in my Life,
stared awestruck at the overwhelming beauty in all I saw,
and knew I was new.



With my body, speech, and mind,

I know who I am…


Aho (“Amen,” “Thank You,” or “Kill Him”)
by Lloyd Matthew Thompson
acrylic on canvas, 06.01.2008


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