Yesterday at dusk, twelve of us entered an earthen dome. Hot volcanic rocks were placed in a center pit, the shaman sounded a conch and the door was sealed shut. In the dark brick womb, the sizzling sound of medicinal tea covered us with a thick herbal steam. For two hours, we soaked, we sang, we lashed, we cleansed. We gave thanks to the mothers and fathers. The earth and sky. The guardians and saviors. We emerged under a new moon to begin a new cycle — a starlit night with lights to guide.