I'LL HAVE THE STEAMED YONI, PLEASE.

OK.  Let's explore Yoni Steaming!

First, "yoni".... anyone?  Let me help:  It's the Sanskrit word for "vagina" or "womb". The male counterpart is often referred to as a "lingam" but this isn't a direct Sanskrit translation.  We will go with it for now, though, since it is used in common parlance as such -- if you commonly parlance in these things.

At the World Elder Gathering we attended in Hawaii, there were breakout sessions designed for women only, yoni steaming being one.  I read the description of this deeply spiritual practice of womb honoring and it cracked me up.  I admit right here and now the ONLY reason I signed up was for blog fodder.  I mean, really!  Who wouldn't???  Besides, even after reading the description of the practice, I was unclear how my yoni could get steamed (other than the usual way).  I was on a research mission.

I showed up to the session with nine other women and found a circle of yoga mats, each with a 5- gallon bucket placed upon it, surrounding a beautiful altar laid out on a colorful scarf in the middle of the circle.  The young woman leading the session greeted us with a brilliant smile and warm, welcoming manner.  She was beautiful, 25 or so I'd guess, wearing a midriff baring halter and long skirt.  She had perfect skin.  I notice skin these days since I'm currently undergoing topical chemotherapy on my hands for pre-cancerous lesions, but that's another story.

I chose my mat and bucket and looked around.  The other women (ranging I'd guess from 55-75 years of age) looked as bewildered as I, but certainly game for the experience.  There was also giggling.

Our leader asked us to sit quietly and started us off with a guided meditation on the deep spiritual significance of our womanly bodies, focusing on the womb and its many wonders as a place of procreation, shelter, a place of power, and insight.  I'm a sucker for a good guided meditation.  I was getting into it, but kept being a tiny bit distracted by the technicality of having no womb.  (Hysterectomy: 2001)  I wondered if I was committing fraud by being there.

Next we did a check-in where we went around and talked of our responses to the meditation, so I mentioned this fraudulent feeling and my years of infertility and anger at my body and parts that didn't work right, tears welled in my eyes...what the hell?!?  This wasn't funny anymore!  I actually dropped my cynical, "I'm only here for the material" stance and shared honestly.  As did everyone else.  We were assured that the "womb space" remains regardless of actually having the anatomically correct apparatus.  I found this oddly moving.

But then it was finally time to start the actual steam, so I regained my bemused affectation and waited patiently while our leader poured a hot (steaming!) herbal potion into glass mixing bowls (like a yummily-scented tea).  The herbs were a mixture meant for post-menopausal women.  She knew her audience.  Once poured, each bowl was placed inside the 5-gallon bucket and a beautifully crafted smooth wooden toilet-type seat (think luxurious outhouse) was placed over the bucket.  We shed our undies, picked up our long skirts, and lowered our nether parts onto the seat where the steam was rising to bathe our yonis in a nice warm elixir of nurture.   It felt pretty great.

The idea was to do a 20 minute sit.  (I thanked my Yoga and meditation practices for the core and back strength to remain in an upright and unsupported position for this long).  While sitting, our leader did a simple singing bowl performance (so soothing) as well as a Goddess chant in Sanskrit (beautiful voice).  The yoni tissues, being warmed by steam, relax and swell and she says the vaginal space opens to allow the steam to rise to the womb space...I don't know about that.  But it did feel nice -- not in a sexual way, but more like an "ahhhh...." relaxing massage sort of way.  She encouraged us to vocalize with her.

I've done this before in other settings, including Yoga classes, and always feel a bit self-conscious.  But we all sort of started to hum or hiss or sing as she made the singing bowl ring and it was actually quite lovely.

Until I detected a disturbance on the other side of the room.  I opened my eyes and realized our leader had walked to the entrance to dissuade a MALE conference attendee from walking through our Yoni Steaming space to get to his room.  Uh...NO!  I saw her motion to him silently to go away, as she shook her head no.  He ignored her!  He walked right through (along the wall at least, not in the middle of our circle).  It totally funked my vibe!  I was so pissed at male privilege, discounting women, abuses suffered at men's hands -- maybe I projected a bit of historical patriarchy on the poor guy who just wanted to take a nap, but sheesh!  I do have to think he didn't know what he was walking into and was likely completely appalled to find ten Elder women sitting on buckets, "vocalizing".  I hope the image haunts his dreams for years to come, because he acted like a total lingam!

When steam time came to an end we de-throned and arranged ourselves in a lying down position on our Yoga mats for a few moments of Savasana (basically lying still in a quiet, meditative frame of mind).  Then we sat and did a check out and to a woman, there did seem to be a theme of feeling nurtured, healed, and renewed by the experience.  Go figure.

I left still thinking the whole idea was a bit bizarre.  And I do see the humor in suggesting this as a "girls night out" activity.  But let me say this:  When women come together, stories are told.   This exercise ended up being surprisingly moving.  Once past the curiosity and giggles, we shared our stories -- of shame, abuse, infertility, miscarriage, abortion, of being sexually active or of sex being a distant memory -- the stories of women's bodies, women's lives.  By focusing our attention with loving intention on a body part that is both worshipped and vilified, both caressed and violated, we took back what belongs to us.  We loved ourselves back to wholeness.  And that is no laughing matter.

At least, that's the view from here...©