May 28, 2017 – Trout Lake, Washington

My God, this feels incredible.

I inhale deeply. With my eyes closed, I listen to the frogs croaking in the nearby pond. Slow exhale. I feel my body cooling from the water in the cold tub. Inhale. I sense the peaceful nature of this environment and the people in it. Exhale. I open my eyes and admire the sunset through the trees. I embrace the change in color, the reduction of light.

After what felt like over half an hour in Jack’s sauna, I began to feel light headed. Nauseous. I better go cool off, I thought. I haven’t taken part in a proper sauna since Finland, Minnesota at the Abazs farm. It only took me six weeks to participate in Jack’s weekly sauna party, but I told myself that I had to do so before leaving his homestead. And here I am. Naked, submersed in a cold tub, loving every second of it.

Ready to call it good, I prepared to head inside. It was then that Jack came out of the sauna and asked, “You calling it quits, Nicholas?” and informed me that the tradition is four cycles of hot and cold (one cycle for each season). Well then. Back in the sauna I go. I was initially the first in, then Will and Jack, Tom, then Elona and Jane, Lincoln, Kya… just enough people to not be sitting on top of each other. In addition to the lovely conversations that occurred, Elona and Lincoln began singing (in seemingly traditional sauna culture):

“Who can sail where there is no wind?

Who without oars can go rowing?

Who can bear to walk away from friends,

without the tears a-flowing?

I can sail where there is no wind,

I without oars can go rowing.

But I cannot walk away from friends,

without the tears a flowing.”

Time for another cool down. This time I went to the nearby stream that runs through Jack’s land, which was just deep enough to fully cover my body. A remarkably refreshing rinse. I followed through with two more cycles, though they may have been shorter as I began to feel euphoric. Wobbly, even. My first full-length, tradition-following sauna experience.

Inside the house, we engaged in the usual pot-luck dinner. More conversation. Stories. Laughs. One by one, people began playing guitars and singing together. Jack even whipped out a dulcimer-style guitar that I had not yet seen. I would have normally retired to the loft by now, missing out on these moments.

To protect myself from getting closer to these people?

Protect myself from getting attached to this place?

“We’re caught by our thinking, our desires, our wants, our fears, our sense of self. All of these serve to remove us from the actual immediate, direct experience of this moment. It’s all out in the open, but we’re not really looking. Instead, we’re focused on what we think – and on what we expect to find.” – Steve Hagen