Stay at home Conjure: Rodents and hot sauce

Last Saturday night I awoke to what sounded like scratching in the bedroom wall. I immediately woke my husband. He trudged outside and scared whatever it was away. However, the next night it came back. The noise was louder this time. We knocked on the walls and contemplated what to do. My husband went back to sleep while I staid up to freak out. For me, rodents evoke fear frustration and guilt whenever they show up. I always feel like they are coming to claim me as one of their own.

I sheepishly admitted to a friend that I am secretly a rodent. I’m intuitive, skittish, habitual and fertile like mouse. I am playful and magical like chipmunk. I’m sociable, determined and wise like rat. I feel guilt when rodents arrive to chew on walls outside the house because I rarely embrace these parts of myself.

Since I was afraid of living with mice, rats or whatever was chewing on the side of the house, I did what I normally do. I asked for assistance for creating ritual, called pest control and then got some flower essences 🙂

Over the past few days some things have become clear:

  1. I am at my best in ritual to clear stuff up. My intuition has sharpened.
  2. Mother Earth will clearly guide you. Squirrels, stink bugs, chipmunks, hummingbirds, and well placed words have all brought me comfort and clarity this week.
  3. Rodents are kinda awesome. I am a fan. They still can’t come in the house, though.

And as I continue in ritual, I’m noticing that I dig a combination of Conjure and Green Wicca. Conjure is in my bones. It’s my default. I love it. It scares me though. Conjure gives me access to power I’d rather not have. I ain’t about cursing, hexing and giving folk STIs. That’s some heavy karma. I also get angry reading conjure books because I hear dead black folk laughing at the instructions given in books. Some of the sources lied and continue to giggle about it. I also get angry seeing white faces as the representatives of what is essentially a Black and Native American art. All that being said, conjure will keep your ass safe and ensure you have all you need. It’s conjure that helped me hot foot whatever was eating at the walls. Wicca did not help me with that.

I like the idea of Green/Hedge Wicca laced with Conjure. Sometimes asses need to be kicked. Conjure is good at that. At the end of the day, I think I just need to do what Mother Earth tells me. I don’t need a label.

I hope all is well with you. Until the next time, take precious care





Fear & Intuition

One day I woke up off. It felt like I was being driven by an unknown, unidentified deep seated fear that I’d not dealt with before. It inhabited the core of my being and violently radiated outward, like rhythmic earthquakes.

Was it the stress of being a SAHM with two young kids? Nope, this feeling was different from the special cocktail of exhaustion, stress and anxiety I enjoy on the daily. Nope. Could it be the fact that our ac went out or that the water filtration system was flooding? Nope, this feeling wasn’t related to money, change or the fact strange men were coming in and out the house. This feeling in my gut was more insidious than any temporary stress because it constantly drove me from the present moment. I could receive guidance but I couldn’t actually feel my connection to Mother Earth, which was killing me.

I cleaned the house. I re-grided the house. I visited the woods. I felt much better and then suddenly worse. I researched and purchased numerous crystals, prayed to Archangel Michael and started petitioning all that is divine and sacred to keep us all safe.

Then my Father asked me to slow down. He reminded me that safety is something that comes from the inside out. It comes from a connection Mother Earth. It comes from a connection to the Divine. It comes from being able and willing to hear the Divine who loves us, protects us, guides us and cares for us. Even though we all have agreements (that are constantly in negotiation) about when and how we will die, being safe is an inside, personal job.

Purchasing shit will not keep me safe. Our government won’t keep me safe. The police won’t keep me safe. Neither will guns, machetes or baseball bats named hotsauce. Shit, even as a parent, I can only keep the boys safe to a certain extent. (This is a fact I am coming to terms with.)

As I continue to freak out over recent events and what I feel coming down the pipe, I am constantly guided to remain grounded and connected. What keeps me safe, what will help us stay safe is connecting with the Divine.

We’ll see how things evolve. I hope the present Eclipse season is being good to you <3



ISO: Sweetness

I sniff the sweet tea steaming on the stove and decide to add more sugar. I need something with just the right amount of diabetes; something sweet enough to prevent me from raiding the eldest son’s jellybean stash. I’ve been out of control lately. So out of control that I’ve been eating gluten too. Normally I avoid gluten. I know that gluten isn’t sweet, but it is good. Foods with gluten break me out and give me a spare tire. They’re also super fucking good.

So, why am I eating sweetness that rots my teeth and gluten that clogs my digestion? I have lots of different reasons:

  1.  I want more physical and emotional space. I feel like if I eat enough, I can create a safe space for me to hide in my body where no one will find me, ask me shit or want to suck on me.
  2. Did I mention emotional space? The eldest is three. He’s going through all sorts of big emotions, working through expressing his will and figuring out how to communicate. I often spend so much time trying to help him process and work out his shit, I don’t have time or space for mine. His shit reminds me of mine. The same is true for the youngest. By the end of the night, I’m exhausted and there doesn’t seem to be space for sorting out my own shit.
  3. I’m fucking tired and my body hurts. I’ve returned to my yoga practice and that has helped. However, my body is wrecked and my eyes are red.
  4. A civil war rages on within me. There are parts of me that want to Mama the fuck out. That part needs no personal time or space. It just needs to be loving, cooking, cleaning and tending. There are other parts that want Mama-me to hold the fuck up. There are rituals to prepare for, a business to re-establish, friendships to water, herbs to care for and a whole other host of shit to do outside of fucking with my kids.
  5. Did I mention that ritual freaks me out a bit? Don’t get me wrong, it feels right for me to do and I’m excited about it. I just wish that I had more space and quiet to hear. The odd thing is that my ears are full. More so than usual. I hear my ancestors, a few old friends and other things that watch me. More so than usual. It’s nice but also…. well.. a little more intense than usual 🙂 At least my dream life has calmed down 😀

Too much discord and a lack of space to sort it out leads me to eat. I eat to remind myself that I’m not processing my life. I eat to remind myself that there is sweetness in my life, but to enjoy it I need more balance. I eat to ease the pain of abandoning myself to care for people and situations outside of myself. I need to honor more of myself than just the part of me that is mother to the boys.

I am a full human being. I deserve expression outside of cooking, cleaning and playing with children.

We’ll see how things come together <3

Take care of yourself


What’s next…conjure..maybe

I sat and listened to my relative. My eyes bulged. I started to sweat and for the first time in a while my intuition kicked in. I could sense “the green”, or various nature spirits listening in on our conversation. I noticed an entity attached to my relative looking at me and could see/feel some of the phenomena they described enduring.

Always in the know, my eldest boy decided to see what Mommy was doing. Somehow the playground with Daddy wasn’t so exciting anymore. My conversation ceased, my intuition turned off and I went back into Mommy mode. It was lunch time anyway and we could only stay here discussing this for so long. Besides, I didn’t have any of my accoutrement with me. There wasn’t much I could do in a park during the daytime anyway. My mind wasn’t blown by what my relative said, but by how long they had endured and that my obtuse ass hadn’t picked up on it earlier. We related. Why am I only hearing this now?

I spent the rest of the day spinning, planning and plotting. On the ride back to where I, my husband and sons were staying, a potion to make for my relative came to me. It should be applied to the hands and feet daily and nightly. I also pondered what could be discreetly done to clear space and whether I should covertly do some work to help the situation. I also thought about what ancestors to ask for help because there is a lot going on. For the rest of the trip I focused on holding sacred space. On the way back home my mind spun. It spun It spun It spun. When it stopped,  I was a bit in awe.

I freaked out. How did a potion come together so quickly and easily? It was like breathing. I call myself a herbalist, but I don’t really care about medicinal application (heh heh). Possessed or Cursed? I can help. Shit, I’m excited to help! Even before studying herbalism I remember asking hyssop for help with my own deposession work, which is a long entertaining story if you are into that sort of thing.

I love this part of me; this arcane self that knows and does interesting shit. The type of shit you do when God or Nature is working with you to set things right. Old black shit that runs through my veins and coils in my dreads. Shit that feels like it has been flowing through me and my folk for quite a few lifetimes. However, to be honest, this part of me scares me.

I don’t know how she fits into raising children, going to the grocery store, giving my husband blow jobs and mundane shit like that. Oddly enough though, she’s all I ever wanted to be. She laughs with plants, dances with the wind and listens to the stories of her ancestors. She does things because Mother Nature, her Grandmother/father or a Deity asked her to. She doesn’t really move for anything/one else. Fuck, I love her. She’s so self possessed. I just don’t know where she fits, comes from or how she emerges. I guess if flowers bloom in their own time, she will too.


Take Precious Care over there




Violets in the backyard

As I clean up twigs and branches from a recently pruned bush, I note the abundance of violets in the backyard. Large heart shaped leaves and purple flowers dot the lawn, occupy space in the herb patch and form a wild little boundary between our yard and the neighbor’s yard.

I’m eyeing them. They’re eyeing me. They remind me that I love them and that I can make medicine from them. I play bashful by imagining myself getting sick because I harvested the wrong plant. They tell me to stop being so afraid of myself and my path.

I stop. Then I ponder the root of my fear. I think about how it felt to be separated from my brothers at a young age. I think about leaving New York. I remember being forced in a private school I resented being in and how I’ve spent so much time running away from that. Then I come back to the present. The violets are still staring at me; this time with some poison ivy.

Instead of holding on to the memory, I’ve held on to the fear of it happening all over again. I fear being ripped from loving community. I fear being suppressed, overwritten and forced into a way of being that ain’t me. I fear it so deeply that I keep myself basically invisible, isolated and defend my familial boundaries violently.

You know, it just might be time to do a little harvest, leave an offering of gratitude and make a little tea <3 We’ll see.


Take Precious Care



Update: In honor of the Taurus New Moon, I collected some violets with the intention of moving forward through my fear.

Fear part 2: Bringing it back together

As the mouse chipmunk vole saga continues to unwind outside our house, I find myself learning more about fear everyday.

I hate fear. I should live boldly; bravely charging into life. I don’t want to deal with fear. It’s not like listening to fear has actually ever helped me. It usually makes things worse since I can’t fix what scares me. Fear is an annoyance that makes me feel powerless.

My adversarial relationship with fear creates cyclical chaos. Rather than just hearing fear and adjusting, I push it underground. Underground fear leaves me anxious, paranoid, surly, tired and eventually sick.

As I enjoy being sick, I realize I ain’t got time or energy to keep suppressing my fear. I need to listen to it. Theoretically, fear is an early warning system that something isn’t right. What’s wrong with knowing that something isn’t quite right? I am in a different situation now. I can actually act on what is bothering me. As I ritualistically soak the house with peppermint oil, I try to hear what I am afraid of.

I fear being violated. I need better personal boundaries. For me, personal boundaries goes beyond saying no. It’s learning to build relationships that create mutual benefit. It’s learning who to ask for what and being compassionate with whatever response I receive.  It’s learning to take things a little slower, so I can see more clearly. It’s also consistently reminding myself that the past has passed. I no longer need to make decisions as if I am still embroiled in chaotic shit. I made it through. I am safe in my vole free home. I can flourish now.

The more minty fresh the house becomes, the more I realize that the voles may not actually want to come in house. They just want a safe space to live breathe and have their being, just like me. Maybe I don’t have to soak everything in peppermint oil. Then I think I’d rather not have a bunch of rodents living, breathing and multiplying so close to the house. I’m ordering more peppermint oil.

Until next time.. Take precious care





Since my last post, we have moved to Bowie, MD. I am so in love with Bowie.  I love Bowie so much that it scares me.

Through a happy daze of settling in, I can’t shake this gnawing feeling that something is about to bust loose.  So, I do what I normally do when I am scared but don’t want to admit it. I nitpick. I thought a couple of spots on the walls were mold. They weren’t. Next, I decided to focus on the garden. Nothing but bunnies and butterflies there. Since that didn’t yield a proper emergency, I turn my attention to a couple of holes nestled close to the foundation in the back. Bingo! I have found an emergency.

There is a little mouse (update: chipmunk) burrow outside of our house. Mice were the reason we left the last place. In panic mode I call pest control. Not satisfied with the suggestions given, I explore all sorts of options for mouse exclusion. I ponder digging a trench across the back yard and placing hardware cloth against the foundation of the house. I ponder drenching the backyard in bob cat urine and peppermint. Then I *silently* ponder ripping out the sink and dishwasher to re-enforce the wall and floor.

After soaking my feet and talking with my husband, who is not ripping out the dishwasher to re-enforce the wall, I realize that I do not fear mice. I fear repeating my past. I fear deeply enjoying all the things that I have ever wanted only to have them ripped from me or fuck it all up myself.

The mice are outside. They are not in the house. My joy has not been violated or shit on. Should that happen, I need to realize that I can handle it. I can rebuild my boundaries and find my way back to happy. It may take a bit, but it is possible. I also need to realize that the past is the past. I’m not there, I am here and now.

All these realizations are cute, but not calming. So, what am I doing to work through the fear? I’m making a play date with little me. I have an idea where this originates. I am going  to talk to little me and see what can help her to stop being so afraid. I think I am also going to properly mourn the various losses of life that I’ve experienced.

Most of my freak outs are about unresolved childhood messes; which keeps me in the past. I can see how being fully grounded in the here and now really shifts my ability to deal with whatever is going on 🙂 Once I address little me,  can work on some mindful practices to keep me in the here and now.

Oh yeah and Hooray for Chipmunks!

Until next time.. Take precious care!