Sweat Lodge Tragedy
Three people died and twenty-one were hospitalized following an October 8 sweat lodge cremony outside Sedona Arizona. On October 18, the New York Times reported that police are treating the deaths as homicides and awaiting autopsy reports.
I have been putting off writing about the Sweat Lodge tragedy at a spiritual retreat center near Sedona, Arizona, that has left three people dead. I didn't want to write until I heard the man in charge explain what happened. But James Arthur Ray, a best-selling self-help entrepreneur and promoter of financial abundance, is not talking.
Ray hasn't said anything about what happened inside that sweat lodge. On his website he says only that he is being tested, shocked, and saddened by the tragedy, and because there are so many more questions than answers at this time, he believes it inappropriate to comment further until we know more. Indeed we do need to know more; we need to know more from Ray, because otherwise we have to draw our own conclusions from what we do know about him.
I met James Ray at a professional speakers' meeting. Handsome and charming, he wanted to show me how he could help me market myself and increase my revenue stream exponentially. I didn't buy -- his huckster smoothness left me squirming. Ray is a self-help financial guru preaching the gospel of abundance and has appeared on Oprah, Larry King, and The Secret. He is the CEO of JRI, a multi-million-dollar business that was recently named on Inc. magazine's list of America's fastest-growing private companies.
James Arthur Ray got over 60 people to pay $9000 apiece to participate in a five-day "Spiritual Warrior" retreat he teaches and that culminated in a sacred Native American ceremony. Ray's ceremony, however, bears little resemblance to the holy ritual that I know and practice. Ray's sweat lodge was 415 square feet! This is a structure large enough that the county requires a building permit. The traditional sweat lodges of the Plains tribes are small structures, maybe 10 feet in diameter and 4 feet high (90 square feet), whose frames are made out of willow saplings and then covered with blankets and canvas. The Navajo dig them into the ground and then cover forked sticks with earth. Whatever the style, they all are built to accommodate a small group, 10- 15 people (maybe a few more if really squeezed).
The Native community recognizes the ceremonial leaders conducting the ceremony as "keepers of a lodge," which means a traditional fireplace that has been handed down to them by a recognized spiritual leader. There are authentic, non-Native lodge keepers, in the Americas and Europe whom I know, but all of them can trace their fireplaces to a recognized Native spiritual leader.
The ritual takes between 1-2 hours, but there are four rounds or "doors." Between each round, the flap is opened, more stones are brought in, and people can choose to go out for a short time and return. I have been participating with Native American people in sweat lodge ceremonies for over 40 years, and I am the keeper of a lodge at my home; that honor was bestowed after a long apprenticeship.
I came to Native rituals and ceremonies during the 14 years I was the Chief of Psychiatry at the Phoenix Indian Medical Center. Early on, I recognized that if I was ever going to have success with my patients, I would have to learn to tell my healing story in a language they understood. So I sought out traditional healers and asked about healing symbols and cultural myths. That process transformed a Western-trained doctor to healer.
I started attending tribal healing ceremonies, Native American Church meetings, sun dances, and sweat lodges, and listening and learning. At the sweat lodge, I first got the wood, then helped cover the lodge, and later got to gather the willows and the lava rocks, and then to build the lodge. And, after a few years my mentor said to me at the beginning of a Lodge one day, "You run this one."
Because I use his fireplace, I do it the way he taught me and follow the rules. There are tribal variations but the essential elements are the same. For instance, women on their moon cycle do not participate in the ceremony. We enter the lodge in a certain way, talk to the stone people as they are brought in, and pass water around in every round. I sprinkle water on the red-hot stones using a brush wand made of desert chaparral. There are always four rounds (doors), during which new stones always come in, and people can always go out.
I use the lodge regularly, and people from all faiths and ethnicities participate; there is no charge, and we generally have a potluck afterwards. I have participated in sweat lodge ceremonies with thousands of people in North and Central America, and Europe as well, through the nonprofit Turtle Island Project. No one has ever died; not old people or children, not the sick or the wounded. Most people have found the ceremony as profoundly enlightening as it was intended to be.
How can you tell if the Sweat Lodge ceremony is sacred? Here are some clues; find out if Indian people are involved, and if the ceremonial leader is trained in the tradition. If the sweat lodge can fit 60 people and costs $9,000 to participate, you're probably just feeding the bottom line of one of the fast-growing private companies in America.
For James Arthur Ray, who has cultivated a following of people who crave instantaneous enlightenment, what is the teaching? Native people say if you come to work in the sacred realms without paying careful attention to the profundity of its teachings, then you reduce the sacramental to just another colorful, self-help seminar experience; then those holy people will get your attention and shake you down.
My heart reaches out to the families of those who died and are ill. This retreat and sacred ceremony were sold as an opportunity to illumine the spirit. What it delivered, however, was the result of perverting what is holy into something profane.
Carl Hammerschlag is a physician and Yale-trained psychiatrist who has spent more than 20 years working exclusively with Native Americans. His healing journey has been chronicled in three critically acclaimed books, The Dancing Healers, The Theft of the Spirit, and Healing Ceremonies. He is a member of the faculty at the University of Arizona Medical School, a recipient of a National Caring Award, and a friend of many Reality Sandwich contributors.
Photo by andrew i w, courtesy of Creative Commons license.
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I am glad you waited...
I am glad that you waited to speak out about this, but thank you so much for taking the time to explain this to people, as well.
My fiancee and I engage in sweatlodging, although we do it per our own tradition, and have never claimed to be a part of any sort of spiritual group in reference to our sweatlodging (we also do not provide this as a service). We were taught, very simply, by a friend who enjoyed lodging as well and soon we had built our own. We always make sure that we are being very safe within our lodge, and we have NEVER had a sweatlodge with more than 12 people.
Of course, when this story broke, seeing how sweatlodging is a little less common than other hobbies, many of our friends brought this up to us. It was very disturbing to us for several reasons. It has never been our experience that anyone felt poorly after a sweatlodge, let alone have a condition that warranted they go to the hospital! As details continue to emerge in the media, we are further shocked by the things that we hear in reference to this place in Arizona, and I think that we all can acknowledge that something was "just not right," although we just don't know what that is yet.
When we lodge, we use stones that are heated over a fire, and then transferred into the lodge where we pour water over them to create steam. We sometimes use essential oils by placing them on the rocks and allowing the scent to permeate the air. We have bench seating, and pass around jugs of water to drink. We sometimes scrub ourselves with organic salt scrubs and honey during the lodge, and we also have a steel tub in the lodge with cool, clean water where people can cool down if they get too hot but do not wish to exit the lodge. People frequently exit the lodge if they are too hot, or to take a dip in the pool (if it is summertime) and they can choose to come back in or not. We often engage in song and "oms" in our lodge, and it fosters a great sense of community for us and our friends and family who enjoy it as well. I know that we are not following any sort of ancient tradition, and that for some, following this tradition is important, but I really feel a sense of spirituality from sweatlodging and it is something very near and dear to my heart.
Irregardless of ANY sort of tradition, it is supremely important that people are practicing this SAFELY--whether it is in the tradition of the wonderful Native Americans or not it is nonetheless a powerful practice and not to be misused. I hope that people can fully appreciate this concept, and make sure that they are using credible people to administer their lodges.
my prayer
My father was taught how to do sweat lodges by native american friends when he was a kid, growing up in Northern Michigan. So I grew up with it, too. I've worked with trained elders and amateur leaders with good hearts. To me, the sanctity of the experience does not depend on the background of the leader. At least not primarily.
The essential ingredient is the heart of the leader--which translates to wisdom, sensitivity, safety, etc. I think expertise grows from these qualities in any tradition, regardless of ethnic heritage.
The last thing I want is for seekers out there to create unfair pictures of sweat lodges. But I think anytime a sweat lodge is done with character, compassion, and love, then it is done correctly.
So I'd like to share my personal prayer for our nation as we examine this event (all too often, we react, instead of pray or contemplate).
Most amazing God and the Light of my path,
I pray for all of the people who have seen the tragedy of the sweat lodge ceremony that happened recently, bless our eyes and ears, mouths and hands with courage to understand, rather than curse, blame or judge anyone or anything.
May our most sacred ceremonies and their leaders remember the importance of reverence and humility.
May we find deep well springs of forgiveness for the leader of this particular sweat. Bless him with the knowledge to correct what errors he made in judgment as a leader.
May he find the grace to lead sweats again, with a courageous heart and heightened vision. Please let there be a next time for this man if his path as a teacher can be perfected and uplifted by this event.
For the victims, I pray wisdom and acceptance. I pray for healing. I pray that purification come to their minds, bodies, and spirits. Please always shine light on the memory of this event. So everyone can see what profound truth is always here, even when darkness seems to cover us completely.
Remind each one of us of the light shining brightly in all darkness. Please bless our country to see the truth and to not draw more lines or inflict more wounds between peoples and cultures.Thank you God and Light of my Path. Continue to heal our planet.
Amen.
Salud to everyone!
Adam Elenbaas
Sweat Lodge Tragedy
and.. spirituality?
The fact that Ray refuses to speak about this is sickening. Just looking at the facts alone shows clearly this was a bastardized version of a traditional sweat lodge.
I have the pleasure of studying with a Lakota indian who speaks and teaches on shamanism. We were talking last weekend about this issue, and needless to say he was extremely upset. He is a water-pourer for his community's sweat lodges and he had a lot to say about this. As water-pourer, he is responsible for the lodgers in every way. Every aspect of the ceremony is sacred and filled with meaning, from the selection of the stones, selected offerings to the spirits, and most importantly, creating a sacred, and safe, space for the lodgers.
The aftermath of this tragedy is that hopefuly, people will look beyond the first layer of 'new-age' quick fixes. Our discussion brought up the issue of trusting any non-traditional person to carry out these types of ceremonies. I think it can only benefit those who practice solidly learned, safe practices. You must be getting a lot of questions on your own activities and pedigree to run these lodges, and I think that's healthy, overall. A person so shallow as to not look deeper into the meaning, purpose, and traditions of a lodge have no business attending them. That said, those stricken by this tragedy trusted this man in an honest exchange of their wealth for his safekeeping - both spiritually and physically, and he failed miserably at the latter and, I suspect, never could have delivered on the former.
better not to be too much of a joiner
Good Medicine
I would like to share my story of the sweat lodge with everyone...
And don't believe those that believe that have found the secret you can never find the secret that's why it called a secret...
Keep it that way... same goes with Mystery...
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Allow me to share for free...
Good Medicine
It was for a medicine man’s birthday that I drove up to the Rosebud Indian Reservation of the Lakota in South Dakota. An elder of mine, Uncle Steve, had asked me to help him with the drive from Ohio. I looked at this offer as an honor, as Uncle Steve is a Sun Dancer, and he dances at the medicine man’s Alter of Iktomi.
It was early evening when we arrived on the ranch, a three legged dog, by the name of Lala greeted us. We got out of the truck to Lala’s barking as I followed Uncle Steve into the medicine man’s trailer home that sat on the open and dry land where Sun Dancer’s come every summer to dance in the arena
A couple women were inside the trailer when we opened the door. Uncle Steve asked where his Grandfather was. One woman, Gwen, led us back to a bedroom where the old medicine man sat in a chair. Uncle Steve was greeted in a language of Lakota by the medicine man. The Old Man then looked at me as I stood in silence.
“Are you a white man?” he asked in English as he reached out his hand.
“Yeah, I’m a white man,” I replied with a laugh and a smile then continued. “But I have a red heart like you.”
He gave me a smile better then my own, and then he began to talk to Uncle Steve again about some things that needed to be repaired on the ranch. The old man then asked to be placed in his bed. Uncle Steve helped him, as I looked over at pictures on the wall of past powwows, the old man with family, other American Indian medicine men, but the biggest picture on his wall, hanging over his bed, was that of Sitting Bull.
I then sat in a metal folding chair by the old man’s bed and listened to Uncle Steve and the old man speak, sometimes it seemed they spoke to each other without saying a word, until Uncle Steve then was asked to do a chore by Gwen.
When Uncle Steve walked out of the room, the Lakota medicine man then asked me to get him a cigarette from the pack of Camel that sat on the small table next to his bed. I did what he asked, lit his cigarette in his pinched lips, and then returned to looking at the pictures on his wall. One was of him at a naming ceremony.
“Think you can give me a name?” I asked.
He looked at me and smiled. He then steered out the window and motioned with his head to look out the window and said “Deer -Figing-The-Roe.”
“Deer-Figing-The-Roe?” I said to him in a questioning way. He had just suffered a stroke and so he was hard to understand. I looked out the window and then back then back at the old man. “Deer-Figing- The-Roe, what does it mean? I don’t understand. Is that my name?”
“Deer -Figing-The-Roe,” He then said again motioning for me to look out the window.
“Deer -Figing –The-Roe?” I shook my head again. I couldn’t understand fully what he was saying until a child walked into the room.
“He’s saying they’re fixing the road.” I looked out the window at the road leading out of the ranch up to a large hill. I just laughed for a moment at myself and then asked the old man if he needed anything. The old man motioned for the ash tray on the table. I grabbed the ash tray and placed it on the old man’s lap telling him that it was nice meeting him, shook his hand again, and left the trailer.
I walked to Uncle Steve’s truck and grabbed my duffel bag out of the truck’s back cab. In the duffel bag was a rock from the Serpentine Mound in Ohio that was given to me by my brother, Paul. It was a small rock that was as white as freshly burnt ash. It was very light in weight and fit into the palm of my hand. To the top of a hill I followed the road that the old man mentioned they were fixing. The rock firmly tucked into my pant’s pocket.
When I arrived at the top of the hill, I looked at open plains dotted with pine trees. I took the rock from my pocket and threw it with a prayer of healing, and began to walk back down the hill back towards the old man’s ranch. Prairie dogs were barking at me above their burrows in the field on the side of the road, and so I removed a camera from my pocket to film the prairie dogs. As I walked off the road to get a better shot with my camera, the Prairie dogs scampered into their burrows except for one that remained barking towards the rear of all the burrows, and he remained barking until I raised my camera. He then scampered back into the hole he was standing by. Without taking a picture, I placed my camera back into my pocket and began walking back to the road.
Under my shoe, my foot felt that it landed on something soft, and just as soon as I felt this softness, I heard a large rattling noise. It startled me for a moment and I jogged forward and turned around to see what the noise was. It was a rattle snake sitting coiled, ready to strike, whipping his tongue out at me while rattling his rattle. It was unbelievable that I didn’t get bit, but it was a good sign that the Great Spirit heard my prayer on top of the hill. I then took a picture of the snake as he rattled away and when he when he settled back to basking in the Dakota sun, I walked back to the road watching every step.
When I returned to the old man’s ranch, Uncle Steve was speaking to a Lakota man, named Dino. I quickly told them about the snake I stepped on. Uncle Steve laughed as he looked at Dino, “He asked me what type of animals he was going to see out here. I forget to tell him about the rattle snakes.” Dino laughed along.
Dino seemed to be a gentle man. His words were mild towards me. He told me he would be pouring water in the sweat lodge that they had planned on the old man’s birthday the next day. He had invited me and I told him I would be there. I then asked him about seeing an eagle. I wanted to see an eagle while on Rosebud. He told me of their morning path early every morning through the sky above the hill that sat east of the hill where I had stepped in the snake.
During my conversation with Dino, another Lakota had arrived, his name was Silver, and we clicked right away. I told him about the snake that had greeted me and my rock from the Serpentine Mound. He mentioned that it was good medicine. He also told me of his journey over the last few years and how he ended back on the reservation but was now looking for somewhere else to go because of squabbling caused by drinking at the place that he was residing.
My conversation with Silver and Dino ended as the sun began to set. That night I sat and talked Gwen and we spoke about the Natural Way, the Red Road, and the politics of reservation life. She showed me a website, voiceofwomen@freewebs.com, that she had recently pulled from public viewing. She showed me many documents that charged the State of South Dakota with abuses of pulling Indian children away from their relatives. The abuses seemed to be continuing. I went to bed that night with many things on my mind, recognizing Gwen and the people of Rosebud as caring people that wanted the best for the people of the Indian Reservations in South Dakota.
When I awoke the next morning, my sights were quickly set on spotting an eagle where Dino told me to look, but all that was seen was a flock of turkeys puffing out their feathers on a hill. Having no success on spotting an eagle, I walked into the trailer to see Uncle Steve and Gwen speaking to each other. Uncle Steve must have seen me looking out towards the ridge for eagles, as he greeted me, “The harder you look the less likely you are going to see an eagle,” he said with a chuckle.
I laughed as I filled up my morning cup of coffee and replied, “Well it don’t hurt trying.” I then walked over to the table and sat down. Gwen was just taking a first sip from her morning cup of coffee.
“Thanks, for the talk last night, I learned a lot,” I said to her.
“No problem,” she replied.
Uncle Steve gave out a bit of a sigh about the the evening before, “You know I would have joined in the talk with you both but politics and religion just isn’t my bag.” He took another sip from his coffee and made a grimace. “Man, people on the reservation sure do brew it strong.”
“Yes, they do,” Gwen said laughing and then looked out the window towards the turkeys on the hill. “Hey is that an eagle?” She then looked for a moment more out the window, as I rose from my chair to see what see what she was viewing. She then answered herself, “Nope, buzzard, the wings are hooked.”
“Like I said,” Uncle Steve chimed in, “The harder you look the harder it is to see. “ He then took another sip of his coffee and placed his cup down on the table, trying to get back to the conversation between him and Gwen. “By the way, we need a cook for the party today.”
“No problem.” I replied then continued, “That’s what I like to do anyway.”
The day then went on with everyone doing chores for people that would be arriving for the medicine man’s birthday party. I was helping with cleaning up some cooking utensils and covering the wood with a tarp with a man named Pat, who had arrived onto the reservation the day before also. When we picked up the plastic tarp and unfolded it, a small baby rattler snake laid unmoved and coiled up.
“Look there,” Pat said looking at the baby snake no more then a few inches long. I grabbed the baby snake in my hand as Pat and I began walking towards the wood pile.
“What you going to do with it,” Pat asked.
“I’m going to keep him until I leave, good medicine,” I replied, as we covered the wood with the plastic tarp. I then walked over to my small puff tent and placed the small rattler in my camera bag that lay under my sleeping bag.
That evening, the old medicine man had his birthday party. And during the party they had the purification in the sweat lodge, I couldn’t attend as I was too busy cooking for the people arriving. It didn’t bother me though because I felt like that’s why I was there – to cook for the old man’s celebration. And it seemed like it worked well because everything that was cooked over the grill was enjoyed by the people that arrived.
After the party was over, I was asked if I could go sit with the old man. Usually everyone called him Grandfather, but it was then that I heard his name as Elmer. I took the offer and went to where the old man was lying in his bed. He was still wearing the nice collard shirt, blue jeans, and black leather vest that he wore for his party. I took a seat and we spoke briefly about how well the party had gone, and he asked me to light his cigarette, and as I did I handed him the ash tray.
The old man sat puffing on his cigarette, and I just sat there looking at the photo, into the eyes of Sitting Bull above his bed. Sitting Bull was the most revered leader in the history of the Plains Indians, a fierce warrior, war chief, and medicine man. It was his medicine that was most feared. After the Sun Dance he predicted Custer's attack and the Indian victory. Long after that battle while being held on a reservation he was assassinated because white government officials were afraid his influence among thousands of reservation Indians would be trouble, defiant to the end, a great Lakota Chief.
The old man smoked his cigarette and then put it out in the ash tray. I then told the old man of my dreams. He listened and just would nod his head or smile. I wanted an answer from this medicine man but he didn’t say anything, as he just sat smoking quietly. After his cigarette, he asked me to remove the ash tray and I placed it back on the small table next to his bed. I then sat with him as he had drifted off to sleep, and he slept with his eyes open.
After telling Gwen that the old man had fallen asleep, Gwen and I took a walk into the night speaking of who we were and where we came from. We walked up the hill where I threw out a prayer with the rock from the Serpentine Mound. That night I saw more stars in the sky at one time then ever before in my life. The seven bright stars of the big dipper seemed to be now clustered in stars I never saw before, and the dipper was hard to find, but when I did locate it, I counted seven stars, Gwen then told me there where really eight stars, but I just couldn’t see the eighth star. Gwen and I then stayed up late into the night and ended our conversation as we spoke about the hoop of life and how giving is equally important as receiving.
The next morning I was up early again. My eyes were fixed into the overcast sky above the hill where the eagles fly. I thought I’d have a better chance to see an eagle if I walked up the hill. I grabbed the baby snake that I had in my tent and brought him with me. When I reached the top of the hill I said a prayer and released the baby snake. I then sat and waited for about an hour, but no eagles flew over me.
After I gave up trying to spot an eagle, I walked back down the hill to the Sun Dancer’s arena in the middle of the old man’s land. Two sweat lodges sat next to the arena and one buffalo skull each sat outside the two lodges. I walked over and placed my hand on the buffalo skull painted blue and white, I then thanked Wankan Tanka for bringing me to the medicine man’s home. I asked Wankan Tanka for vision and with my hand still on the blue skull, I looked up into the sky and smiled. Paddling westerly against the wind was a bald eagle, and I watched this vision until it turned into a small ball of light, and then watched it as it disappeared into the far distance of the horizon.
With a glad heart, I walked back into the old man’s trailer and pulled up a chair again next to his bed. He motioned to the small table next to the bed and I quickly reached for his smokes and ash tray. He rolled his head from side-to-side no, and motioned for something again on the table again. A round piece of wood sat there with a picture of Miracle, the white buffalo born in Janesville, Wisconsin. I placed the picture next to him and without a word the medicine man tapped the picture and looked over at me. I reached out my hand and the old man took it.
I said a quiet prayer looking into the eyes of an old medicine man. And when my prayer was over, I released the old man’s hand and sat back in the chair. The old man placed his hand on the picture of the white buffalo once again and my eyes drifted to the eyes of Sitting Bull. His eyes were deep but glossed over like glass and for a moment I broke trough them and touched the bottom of where they once looked. And I knew right there and then that my journey was not coming to an end but was only just beginning to begin again.
Discernment
I feel this incident presents the reality of discernment in our growing age of spiritual exploration and self-proclaimed gurus.
There is authenticity in this Yuga (age or cycle), but it takes strong viveka (discernment) to discover who is a healthy guide for us in our journeys of healing, opening and actualization. Let this be an opportunity of reflection for those who give too much of their personal power away to external teacher authorities in their quest for knowledge.
The outer is always a mirror to the inner. May we see with clarity and awareness.
Asato Ma Sat Gamaya, Tamaso Ma Jyothir Gamaya, Myrtyor Ma Amritam Gamaya
-Alok
"When the power of LOVE overwhelms the love of power, the world will know peace" - J.H
Discerning the gooruu
Hello, i spent one year in a meditation community, years ago, I did not have to do something as dangerous as sitting in a sweet lodge with a go-go gooruu, although i did have to sit in what was called "the hot seat", and have my brain picked by members of the group.As it turned out i was good at wearing the goat horns, and they all had a field day sorting me out.As it was i was a little in need of some sorting, but it was rather a bit bumpy ride on that ole hot seat.I gave em a run for their karma money, and my psyche was still intact.It seems that some go-go gooruus now days speed up the hot seat technique.Not to make little of the tragedy, of the sad outcome of this particular experiment.I don't know i was drawn to another group experience that lasted about three years, and that was more like putting my wife on a seat called an alter.It did alter our consciousness, and it was rocky at times, what with the group psychology.So years later, i still wonder at what really drew me to that scene.But again there was no sweat lodge experiment.I guess things are speeding up, in the go-go gooruu biz.
revolutionrabbit.blogspot.com
Walk softly and carry a big stick
.
Silence is golden
I am on James Arthur Ray's mailing list. I joined out of curiosity whilst believing that The Secret was a commercialized watering down of spirituality.
Ray, like most of that genre of slick gurus, is well versed in the art of hypnotic writing [I am a hypnotherapist] so it's no surprise that people were willing to pay so much for his courses.
My husband has run and taken part in sweats all his life. He learned from the Natives on the reservation close to where he grew up in Western Montana.
His reaction was the same as many of those on here..a deep sadness tinged with some anger that commercialism has tainted this sacred ceremony.
Here is JAR's latest comment to his mailing list received Nov 10th.
I dare to suggest that his silence might be due to the fact that he will be facing huge lawsuits and possible financial ruin, which, should that happen, I hope will be a truly humbling and epiphanal experience for Mr Ray.
FROM JAMES ARTHUR RAY. I'm continuing to devote all my energy to determine the facts surrounding the tragic accident at Sedona.
I've instructed my representatives to meet with the authorities in Arizona and to share with those authorities the facts they learn. That process is ongoing.
In the meantime, I want to let you know that not only is this situation requiring all of my personal focus, it's also consuming my entire team's focus as well.
For that reason, you can expect significant delays in responses to all general business requests. We have every intention of responding once we have helped determine what happened in Sedona.
Much love and respect,"
Sunny Soleil
www.alternativeresearchconsortium.org
Sweat Lodge Tragedy
Thanks for including JAR's latest comments to his fans. I share your opinions, but that it will be a humbling epiphany for JAR is hardly evident in this PR piece
Hypnotic writting... love
Hypnotic writting... love it...
its wonderful when people attempt to manipulate others for a living...
http://www.bioregionalanimism.com/