Samhain Tribute – Ancestral Memories

Candy, costumes, and creepy things! That’s what Halloween meant to me as a child. I remember giggling and prattling on with my friends about what we were going to become on that special night. A princess, a power ranger – I’m still bummed that my mom never went for my Xena Warrior Princess idea. I was going to make the chakrams out of cardboard and tinfoil and everything! The season surrounding Halloween was always intense and exciting. The seasons had shifted, the colors in the atmosphere had changed, and the energy was just all around different. It was like a certain magick wafted through the air – little did I know just how right I was!

As an adult, I still quite enjoy the novelty of Halloween, but what I truly celebrate is the original purpose behind such a holiday. Samhain – Dia de los Muertos – All Hallows Eve – this is a time to honor and connect with the spirits of those who have left the physical plane and passed through the veil. If we omit the spookism often associated with practices such as mediumship and necromancy, there is much value and solace to be found in connecting with our deceased loved ones. Just because they are no longer in this realm doesn’t mean that their love, care, support, guidance, and blessings have become null and void. Samhain is a celebration of death, not as a finale, but as the beginning of a new part of the journey of existence. Being newly aware of and daring enough to walk his part of the path has afforded me a most wonderful experience, and I’d like to share it with you all, so that you may know the power of recalling and calling on our ancestors.

Last night I set my altar and prepared to ring in the Full Moon with prayer, mediation, and ritual. I had been pondering on what kinds of Wisdom and blessings I wanted to manifest, and the most pertinent issue on my mind was finding and creating a home for myself and my loved ones. I said a prayer and evoked Goddess Chantico of the Aztec pantheon, “She Who Dwells in the Home”. I asked her to guide me through the experience of visualizing  and feeling what I desired my home and my life to be like. It was difficult at first. I am notoriously indecisive, and I was giving myself a headache trying to pick out the details of my dream home. I felt something stir in my intuition, and I realized that it may be more effective for me to focus on the energy I want to concentrate in my home, and naturally, the vision became so vivid. My daughter and her little friends are there, and my family and friends, and children and people who needed a safe haven. The vision I had for my house became so much BIGGER, because I want to have a space where many people could be welcomed and accommodated. All of a sudden, I have a mansion! There are all kinds of rooms and spaces, for reading, for art, for music, for prayer and meditation. I have a huge and bountiful garden full of fruits and veggies, herbs and roots! I live on several acres, so  there is plenty of room to frolic, plenty of places to gather in the woods and perform ritual. I have a beautiful pool and backyard space, and a huge kitchen. There are always people making delicious meals and treats. There are altars and beautiful decorum everywhere, and incense is always traveling on a current weaving its way through the house. I was so entranced by this vision, so in love with the space I was creating. I reached into my box and grabbed the fan that I had found at my grandparent’s estate sale. It had belonged to my grandmother. I began to fan the smoke of the burning blend I had made onto myself, and as I did so, I spoke aloud to my gran. 

Me at around age 10, baking a yummy cake in grandma’s kitchen. She’s there in the background, probably humming an old-timey melody 🙂

I thanked her for the legacy she had left us. My grandma Verna was a goddess of home and hearth. Most of my best childhood memories are centered around going to my grandparent’s house, and to the cabin they had near the river.  My chin quivered as I realized just where the inspiration for my dream home and life came from. They had a huge home in Piedmont, California. There was always space for the entire family to stay, and there was a room for anything you could think of! I remember all the children’s books in grandma’s reading nook, the selarium where we did arts and crafts, the piano in the dining room area, where grandpa would play and we would all sing with him. The basement was the gaming area, with the pool and ping pong tables, and the good ole Atari console. I remember grandma’s sewing room. She had stacks and stacks of the most beautiful material, and she would make us custom outfits and snuggly blankets. And, man oh man, could she cook her behind off! She made the most delicious meals, treats, and snacks. Every year on Christmas Eve, we would gather at their house, and at night all the adults would take the kids out for a walk to see all the lights. When we came back to the house, gazillions of presents would be under the Christmas tree! Grandma would hoot and holler and tell us that Santa had come, and we would giggle and screech and search for the boxes with our names on them.  As I recalled all of these wonderful times, I wept as I thanked my grandmother for the beautiful memories she had created for me, and my family as well. I felt something come over me, and I heard HER voice. She thanked me for remembering her, and for acknowledging all that she had done. She said that she was so proud of her children and grandchildren, and that she wished she could have met all her great grands. And she said that each and every time we keep up with a tradition, like celebrating Little Christmas Eve and putting a dot under a plate, and every time we smile and savor a taste of her beloved clam dip, that she is there, and that she celebrates and enjoys with us.

“Thank you grandma! Blessed Be!” I said, as the energy of the experience wound down. I dried my eyes and cleaned up my altar space, and just sat for a while, smiling. There was nothing spooky or scary about it. I still feel the love and peace brought to me by the experience. I thank the Goddess Chantico for guiding me to and through the experience of communing with my grandmother at such a time as this.

Samhain Blessings, indeed! )O(



How Apropos!

I’M BAAACK! And seemingly from the dead too, which is just in time for the Samhain/Halloween season. I’ve been found lurking around a certain online sepulchre from time to time, but took a long pause on blogging and other ventures as well. I felt the need to shut up for a while and just listen. The passed several months have been intense, rough, dark, and downright mortifying at times. But, in the same breath, there is nothing but praise and gratitude upon my lips. I have experienced and learned so much. Some would call me a fool for having made the choices I’ve made, but truly, I wasn’t at the helm. I’d be a fool to see my journey as anything less than divinely inspired, on the job training! I am thankful for each and every entity, spirit, and person who has guided and aided me along my way. I am more intuitive, powerful, beautiful, and in love with myself and my life than I have ever been. I am in tune with the little piece of the Universe that resides infinitely and specifically within ME. Yes, yes, I am back indeed. With all of this being said, I am leaping right back into my work, which is constantly expanding. Be on the look out for:

Intuitive Counseling and Divination via

-Oracle Readings

-Psychic Readings

As well as products including

-Burning Blends

-Bath Blends

-Spell Kits

As I become more familiar and knowledgeable, more options will be available. At this time I am very humbly yet passionately working with what I have in order to build and expand. Gotta start somewhere! 🙂 Thank you to all who have supported me thus far and I hope you will see fit to continue walking this part of the path with me.

Love and Magick



Sacred Space

My sacred space.

It’s where I go to be still,

to writhe in excitement,

to focus,

to let my mind wander,

to study the ancient ways,

to experiment and create something new,

new to me anyway,

to practice,

to become a master,

to grasp,

to let go,

to enter the darkness,

to be illuminated,

to be lost,

to be found,

to travel amidst the cosmos,

to be rooted firmly to Earth,

to do battle,

to seek peace,

to give praise,

to receive grace,

to learn,

to unlearn,

to grow,

to be humbled,

to transform,

to become who I’ve always been.

This is my sacred space.


Sorry About It

This is my first time blogging in weeks. I probably tell myself five plus times a day, “You should write more!” “Make it a habit to write every single day!” Do I do it? No. Why is that, I wonder. The last several months have been full of so much for me, though it doesn’t seem like it from the outside. I’m being seemingly downloaded with tons of information and I’ve been a conduit for so much. I spend a lot of my time alone in the quite, but still, my internal struggle rages on – as a walk a pathway toward inner peace, gliding along with more grace with each passing day. I guess maybe it’s been a time of receiving for me, though I’ve continued to serve others through my gifts. But I’ve grown restless, and now it’s time to level up. It’s time to take all that I’ve been learning and put it into play. “Wisdom is Knowledge applied!” Indeed.


Retro Revelations

Face it and embrace it.

I woke up yesterday morning feeling like I hadn’t slept in weeks and I haphazardly blamed it on Mercury being in retrograde. I felt a staunch heaviness in my body and, while I could have just climbed back into bed, I wasn’t content with wasting my day. After getting up and moving around for a few hours I still hadn’t shaken the feeling. I had no coffee and I was just too lethargic to exercise it away, so I tried a different approach.

I had been engrossed in studying the ways of the Shaman for some time so I decided to try to clear my energy by performing a smudging ritual. I still had some white sage left from the little baggy I’d purchased at a novelty shop several months prior. I meditated for some time and called on Lord Ganesha to help clear my energy. “Ommm Gammm Ganapatayeee Namahaaa,” I chanted aloud. I sat, quiet and still and then I began to pray.

I had known about the energy of Mercury retrograde and the spookism that came along with it, but I had been asking Archangel Raphael (ruler of Mercury) to act on my behalf and help me to flow with the energy of the retrograde, as to not get caught up in its snare. It had been working well for me. Realizing that there are just some things that a person must endure, I asked that whatever needed to be released from me would be cast away and gone forever. Then I put the sage in my abalone shell and lit it afire.

The smell of the burning leaves wafted through the air as the smoke rose up and danced all around. I stood up and used my hand to fan the smoke onto my body, from the top of my head, to bottoms of my feet. I breathed in the sweet aroma and continued to recite the mantra to Lord Ganesha in my head. When I’d smudged my whole body I set the shell down and laid down flat on my back. I had a hunk of clear quartz crystal nearby and a large piece of amethyst around my neck. I placed the latter in the center of my forehead, in accordance with my 3rd eye chakra. I placed the first below my navel in order to use its energy to help me further clear my energy and stay grounded. I breathed in slowly from my diaphragm and out through my mouth until I was completely relaxed, and I just “let go”.

Any thoughts that passed through my mind I allowed to run their course. I thought briefly about the challenges I was facing with recalling childhood trauma while writing my first book. Still in a deep state of meditation, I sat up and began to cry. All of a sudden I was looking at myself as a baby. I looked at myself sitting there smiling, unaware of the situation I had been born into, but suffering the repercussions nonetheless. I cried for the child who had been given away and left behind by her mother.

Then I saw myself as a toddler. I was so lively and full of curiosity. Even so, I was full of rage and I was apt to break down and become very destructive. I didn’t know the details, but I knew there were things going on around me that were not right.

I saw my child self. Bright and adventurous, but also full of confusion and pain. I understood then that I had been given away by my mother and that she had perceivably better things to do than being my mommy. I couldn’t fight back when my aunt and grandmother abused me, and my daddy was always going to jail, so he couldn’t protect me. My foster mother was bonding with her new, natural born daughter and I began to feel like she didn’t have room for me in her heart anymore.

My teenage self looked at me directly. She was brash and full of herself – always right. She tried her best to do well and to do the right things, but it never seemed to be enough. She felt displaced and extremely misunderstood. She was angry that she didn’t fit in anywhere and she wished that she could connect with her biological family so she could find a place to blend in. She wanted her mother and she wanted to be the baby again. She was frustrated by feeling trapped and untrustworthy, even though she had never done anything to deserve being treated that way.

My late teen and early twenties self looked confused. She had big dreams and she was going to make it through college and be as big of a success as she wanted to be. She wasn’t going to screw up like she felt people expected her to. Then she started partying and messing around with guys. It made her feel good, at first. She felt appreciated and worthy, but then she realized she was just giving her body away and then she felt dirty. She felt like she deserved to be used and abused by her boyfriend. She went from partner to partner, looking for something that could not be found. She settled with one person and thought all her dreams would come true. She got pregnant and quit school. She put all her focus into motherhood, because she was going to be everything to her daughter that she felt was not extended to her by her two mothers. She overcompensated, and she broke down.

I saw myself just a few short years ago, still broken, but trying to mend. I saw myself looking at my life and being diligent about choosing something different. I saw myself endure. I saw myself make difficult choices and have the faith that what I had chosen would ultimately be for the highest and greatest good. I saw myself submit and be humbled to something greater. I saw my life change for the better.

Then I hurtled back into the present moment.

I cried the entire way through and when the vision faded, I began to say, “Thank you! Thank you!” over and over again. I thanked myself at all the different stages of my incarnation for being who and what they were at that time. For better or for worse, I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for the enduring spirit I carried at those various parts in my life. I remembered how they felt – unloved, unwanted, and displaced – and I began to speak aloud. “You were always loved, you were wanted, and you always had a place, even when you didn’t know it.” I had to heal them. As an adult I thought I had let go of the pain, and I had, but they still had not.

When I finally dried all the tears, I stood up, and I felt the weight that had been on me all morning raise and dissipate. I learned that I needed to be a compassionate, nurturing mother to my very own self in order to further heal and continue on my journey down my rightful path.

The energy of Mercury retrograde helped reveal a very necessary lesson to me, and it can do the same for you, if you engage it and put the request out into the universe. Healing on multiple levels of the innermost self is precisely what I needed, and I wouldn’t have been able to receive that healing had I succumbed to the paralyzing fear that is The Retrograde.

I hope that anyone who reads this is helped by it and that other inner children will be healed as well. Blessed Be.


It’s Not as Illogical as It Sounds

*This was purely a blog site before I purchased my web domain on wordpress. It was called “Tentatively Black” and I’m going to leave this here because the message still rocks.*

I thought long and hard about what I wanted to name my blog and I eventually settled on “Tentatively Black” because I knew that people would find it alarming and questionable. But let me explain:

The definition of the word “tentative” implies uncertainty and a sense of unknowing. I’m not unsure of whether I’m black or not, I have eyes and they work just fine, great even! But the verdict is still out on what it means to BE black, or any other ethnicity for that matter. My upbringing in a white foster home has laid the groundwork for many discussion topics that I address in my book (the title is tentative btw). However, the older I get, the more I realize that the lens through which I filter my experiences in the world doesn’t always have to be black, or white, or atheist, or Christian, or speckled with dirt. I have experienced a plethora of other things in life that have nothing to do with race. They are merely experiences that I was meant to have as a human being so that I could retrieve the soul lessons – karmic lessons, if you will.

I’m gravitating daily toward the notion that my experience here as a SPIRIT  is much greater than my experience as a human – a black girl – a black girl who was abandoned by her birth family – a black girl who was raised by white people – a black girl who got pregnant and quit college – a black girl who battled with depression – a girl who nearly lost the battle – a black girl who was Atheist for a little while – a black woman who let her child go far away – a black woman who fought her way back – a black woman who found her faith and spirituality – a black woman who regained her passion for life and the pursuit of her dreams.

What would happen if we fiddled around with that list a bit? What if we crossed some things out and replaced them with something else?

“a black girl who was abandoned by her birth family” becomes “a Mexican boy who was abandoned by his birth family”

“a black girl who was Atheist for a little while” becomes “a Muslim woman who was Christian for a little while”

“a black woman who found her faith and spirituality” becomes “a condemned man who found his peace and spirituality”

Every experience, good or bad, in this life is a variable with the exception of the spirit. The core of a persons being is forever and never changing, it’s the highest and truest self. We’re here as human beings to have these human experiences so that we can use the wisdom we gain to seek out our core. It’s often buried beneath the ego, shrouded in the memories of pain from the past and unfavorable circumstances of the present. The more we forgive ourselves and others of the past the more serenely we exist in the present, and the more effortlessly we flow in to the future. That’s not to say that difficult experiences will not still arise but we will know how to respond and overcome with grace.

The title of this blog is not a slap in the face to fellow black people. It’s me humbling myself and acknowledging the fact that black is not ALL that I am and that it doesn’t define how I’m “supposed to” think, act, believe, speak, or exist. It’s a statement. A testament to the fact that I am more than what the human eye can process. And so are you 😀