-=> Quoting Sondra Ball to Robin Arnhold <=-
Hi, Sondra,
 
 RA>I'm so clueless on what a sweat where one can read something is like that
 >every time I try to think about it, my mind boggles and does strange
 >things like refusing to function.  It is really inconceivable.
 RA>Maybe it's the glow from the thermonuclear pile used to heat the thing.
 >:>  Then, again, maybe she's got a smoke hole at the top.
 SB> 
 SB> Now, in *my* sweat lodge, it would, of course, be *very* possible to
 SB> read poetry during the sweat.  After all, it is heated with
 SB> thermo-nuclear power, and has that sky light on top (in addition to
 SB> the five doors)
:>  Somehow, I also have the feeling there would be good laughter and fun
there, too.  That sweatlodge of yours has made my day more than once.  It
reminds of one of the funniest things I ever heard about a bunch of
wannabes who showed up unannounced at a sacred place, said they were
going to do a sweat lodge, picked up the sweat lodge and put it over the
fire pit!  The fellow who told me about it swore upside down and sideways
that it actually happened and that he witnessed it, although I'm sure he
was pulling my leg.  Then again, you never know what wannabes and
plastics will do next.   
 SB> There are the white groups of Indian *tribes* that refuse to even
 SB> allow Indians to join.  They see themselves as containing the *true*
 SB> spirit of the Indians.  
Sort of like they think they know more about being an Indian than Indians
do.  I wonder if it was one of those groups that tried to reinvent the
sweatlodge.  Truth is, I can laugh about the sweatlodge, but those fake
groups tend to make me nauseated.
Take care,
Robin
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