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Standing Up and Alone

Be careful of what you ask for, you just may get it.

Don’t wrestle with pigs because you’ll only get dirty and the pig likes it.

This too shall pass.

At the beginning of this year I did ebo and prayed to be shown the ways in which I needed to change for the better. True to form ancestors AND Orishas AND Mpungos did not disappoint, they showed me all kinds of stuff to work on. One of the things was to stand on truth and principle even if I was doing it alone.

Well here I am, reflecting and looking at myself. Asking hard questions and wondering what I should do next to begin to close out this adventurous year. One of the things I have been passionate about is helping in some way to stop sexual abuse within the ATR/DTRs. For the life of me I simply cannot understand why so many elders in ATR/DTRs who know the stories and have heard the rumors about faux-priests (I refuse to call these viruses priests) know the truth stay silent year after year, sweep things under the rug, handle things in-house or simply turn a blind eye to the dangerous people in our midst. Is there an odu or a parable that says “If the leopard kills a flock of sheep and mauls the King’s son, do we reward him with more sheep and the King’s next child?” I have struggled with this silence and shaming of women who dare to share their stories.

I have never been a victim of a priest’s advancements or attempts to bed me in front of their prenda but, I am a rape survivor. So when I hear and heard the pain in the voices of the women that call me asking what to do when they’ve been attacked or felt they had no choice, how could I stay silent especially when I personally know a predator? We all want to believe the best of those we choose as our elders? We all need to believe that we are walking the path of our spiritual destiny in the right house. When a sacred trust is broken and the facade is removed what does one do?

I was faced with that question a while back and I made a choice. I walked away, because in Spirit and ancestors I trust, not a flawed person.  I was angry for quite sometime, at someone whom I called brother, friend and Tata. Privately many could not understand my anger and stoney silence whenever the subject of this failed relationship was broached. In public, the act of “we are all one big happy family” was kept up because it is a traditional practice to keep in-house matters within the house. The real source of my anger was not that my former friend was a silent predator but that I held out hope that he would change. When I met him, he was who he was, slick, arrogant and a womanizer.  Knowledgeable, charismatic and passionate about spiritual things was also the flip side of his coin. Over time, the rumors and allegations about his behavior didn’t fall on deaf ears, each new instance was put into a mental file that I had unconsciously kept.  I was mad because the leopard didn’t change his spots and I said nothing for a while.

When I started my own business as a diviner and spiritual teacher, I started receiving clients who would tell me about this priest who did or said x, y and z. Before these women could say the name of the man, my spirits would tell me who it was. There was a point in time that I dreaded getting a new female client for fear that I would hear yet another personal story and receive screenshot proof of what took place. I struggled with keeping my clients confidence and punching this man in his face. As time went on my initial anger turned to rage and when I asked him why, his response was that all of these women were crazy… little did he know I had screenshots, dick pics and all that bore witness to all of the women’s stories.  Daily I asked myself what will you do?

Every family has a black sheep that is loved but, this didn’t make things right in my mind and heart.

Eventually I had to face myself.  I am a daughter, wife, mother, sister, friend and worker. I try to do what I can to dry a tear, give counsel, hold a hand, laugh, refer and call out the dangers in our midst. I found that I my idealistic hope that with growth would come change wasn’t exactly going the way that I personally held onto. I was torn because multiple women across the country confided in me, some tearfully and ashamed, about their negative experience with this man. I had many long conversations with myself about this and it was no secret within the house that I belonged to, I was no fan of the head. At one point in time, I refused to go to any function at the house and on the rare occasion that I would show up, I made a point to shake things up so no woman felt trapped or got something done that wasn’t necessary. I spent many hours counseling former god siblings on what to do and how to do things, when their worlds seem to be falling apart.

I became angry and bitter because I felt trapped with secrets that I felt should be exposed. I was angry at those in my former house who knew but confided in me that they were either afraid to come forward or wanted to pick the man’s brain a little while longer. Cowardice, fuckery, predator and virus became words that I used regularly, I did not like going against my own personal code to keep things quiet just because that’s your pardino.  The unexpected passing of my spiritual sister pushed me to a point where I had to do the only thing I knew how to do, go to my ancestors and ask for their guidance.

The message that I received was told to me via spirit and within 2 days of getting this spiritual message, my love told me that exact thing word for word.

“Stand on the truth, even if you are standing alone.”

These words, helped to break any anger and doubts that I had.  There was a way to advocate for victims, educate both men and women without breaking confidences. This was a turning point for me and a huge shackle taken off of my head.

Any priest that asks a woman or man to have or exchange sex with them in order to help them is a predator. Any priest that spends his days lining up sex dates instead of doing promised work is a predator. Any priest that gets drunk at a misa, initiation and hits on the women around is a predator. Any priest that does these things or things in this vein is not a priest, they are a predator.  A dog can’t get mad if you call it a dog, I’ve said this time and time again.

Any person who has been or currently is caught in a situation where a person in power whether priest or not is harassing them or asking for sex has the right to walk away. Do not fear spiritual threats because trust and believe there are MANY HONEST AND SPIRIT LEAD PRIESTS globally that can and will help you. Do not be held captive by fear! As for the many elders that may read this, please speak up! YOU ARE OUR ELDERS, let’s stop allowing these spiritually and morally corrupt men and women from dishonoring our creator, divinities, ancestors and our religions.

If I could go back in time and do things differently, I would have stood on the truth sooner.  I would have let go of that anger and got down to the business of building instead of fighting.

These days, I have the great privilege to have Godparents, a partner and god siblings who are flawed but honest. I am surrounded by people that value and work towards achieving iwa pele daily as well as, serving the Divine in all of its forms.  I am very fortunate!

If you have made it this far in my long ramble, I thank you for reading.  I want to leave you with these words, people will be who they are.  People will gossip, spread lies, try to invalidate your experiences, shame you, etc., when this happens do not despair or get angry. Remember there is always hope and help if needed! Do not sell yourself short or allow yourself to be convinced that your salvation lies in someone’s bed or shrine room. Those that do wrong will eventually have to answer for their wrongdoings. Live your best life and stand up.

You are worthy!

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Oh Palm Oil Where Art Thou?

I am in any town USA visiting relatives for the next few days and discovered this evening that I was out of palm oil and did not have any in my trusty spiritual travel bag (I’m still trying to figure out how this happened). About 6pm I decided to go in search of some palm oil so I could make things do what they do.

Well, after 2 1/2 hours and a 1/4 tank of gas, I still had no palm oil. I drove past an Indian market and got excited because I felt that this might be it… the store that would be my savior. It took me 15 minutes to find a parking space and guess what? This store had everything except palm oil. Every-mofo-thing except that orange gold. To say that I was in my feels is an understatement, I was beyond aggravated!!

I had spent a ridiculous amount of time driving around, hoping in and out of my car looking for an elusive bottle of palm oil and found nothing. My question to myself was, ‘how in the hell is there no palm oil in this diverse part of town?’. Did I mention how aggravated I was?

Anywho, on my way back to my car, I decided to walk around the block to calm down because it was silly of me to be this upset over palm oil. While I was walking I came across a house all decked out for Halloween with a full blown party going on. The owner of the house was standing outside with other adults and kids in creative costumes laughing and chatting when I walked by. The owner asked me if I wanted a piece of candy and I started to decline but decided why not. After all of that driving around a piece of chocolate was probably earned. Before I knew it, I ended up in a conversation and had forgotten, for the moment, about finding some palm oil. After about 30 minutes one of the men in the group asked me what brought me to their part of town and I responded, palm oil. The lady of the house asked me if I needed some because she had plenty.

I swear you could have knocked me over with a feather because that was the last thing I expected. To end up at a Halloween party and leave with a cupful of palm oil was not on my agenda but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. As I was leaving and saying thank you as well as goodbye to everyone , that’s when I noticed the Ogun pot in the corner. I could not have made this evening up even if I tried. Ogun had the first, middle and last laugh tonight and, I am laughing right along with him. Well played Baba, well played.

I’ve got a cup full of palm oil, a few Kit Kats and a bag of M&M’s on the passenger seat and, a memorable evening that I will laugh about many times over.

Help is always there when needed. If I didn’t take this sentiment to heart before, after tonight, I most certainly will.

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Uncle Sango and a Glass of Wine

It’s been many years since I’ve been in a position to watch a storm. Tonight there is a severe storm lighting up the sky and thunder so loud that it is rattling the windows of the house.

City living dulls the senses and blots out the memories of dark country nights were you can see a million stars. Where I find myself on this dark and stormy night is in a place I call home. Up on a hill, far yet close to the city.

I’m sitting in the dark, sipping on a nice red blend, typing on my phone and glancing out of the window so I can see the next big flash from Sango.

Sango the Orisha with so much energy and pizzazz the stars dim when he is in town. The Orisha that is sometimes talked about as a lady’s man, the wild and fiery one. So many stories, so many human characteristics that one could question whether or not this is an Orisha worthy of adoration and praise.

Kawo Kabeyisi, I hear people say this all the time in the same way I hear people say God is good. They say it loud and often but, it feels empty when the phrase rolls off the tongue with no true love behind it. I question myself, wondering if I am too being judgemental when I become irked by rote reciting. When Sango steps up to defend his daughters and the daughters of other Orisha and yes, even the daughters of Mpungos, there is a sense of security and justification that comes from knowing your Uncle walked up the block and kicked the bully’s ass soundly for messing with his niece. Baba Sango is more than the patikis repeated, he is a protector and defender of women, the energy that moves things forward, he is love and lessons in pliable strength. It is hard to describe a Sango moment, event or interaction. You’d have to experience it to even begin to understand my feelings about Him. In my many philosophical conversations with myself I wonder if people crowned with Sango lack his good characteristics and it is their job to emulate their father in this lifetime. I think and wonder.

Perhaps it’s me and my overactive mind that has me in my feels tonight. Maybe I am stretching beyond the confines of blind acceptance and am beginning to feel the edges of the universe or maybe it’s this wine and light show that has me feeling the need to expand beyond the ordinary.

The lightening is still flashing away, my wine glass is almost empty and I have to get some sleep but first I think I will put on my favorite Sango song and thank my Uncle Sango for always being a quick prayer away.

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The Ebo of One Thousand Miles

During the past 18 months I have traveled over 80,000 miles. Some of my trips, whether overnight or several days long, took me into interesting and unique spaces.

My latest road trip found me on the backroads of Route 43. Miles and miles of pavement and trees. The view was beautiful but like all quiet country roads, the sounds and sites of nature pulled me deep into the recesses of my mind.

Somewhere along the way I noticed how the trees along the side of the road knew how to grow around the obstacles in their way. The branches of each tree that I noticed stretched and contorted themselves around wires, poles and other unidentifiable objects. As I marveled at the brilliance and intuitive knowledge of each tree I saw, I began to recall all of the trees and weeds that I have seen in my travels. Trees and weeds growing through concrete, wrapped around poles and growing around above ground wires.

I pulled over to get an up close look at one particular weeping willow that was growing in grand fashion around and above ground wires. As I leaned on my car looking and marveling at this tree, it occurred to me that a tree may perhaps be the perfect example of how a person should approach a challenging situation in life and perform the ebo of personal change required to build good character.

A tree does not yield or bow down. Nor does it give up and stop growing. It adjusts to the environment for its greater good. When we approach Orunmila with our problems and we are given the seemingly simple ebo of changing our character and/or perspective, many of us stop in our tracks, refuse to change or challenge the priest delivering a hard but necessary truth.

It is far easier to prepare or give a sacrifice outside of ourselves than it is to change the demons within. The question formed in my mind while looking at lady weeping willow was, “when your ancestors, Orisha, Mpungo, Lwa, etc. require the long hard ebo of attitude adjustment will I rise to the task like this tree or will I look for the quick fix of saying Oh well, this is just how I am?”, never attempting to make the necessary changes to bring balance and blessings into my life.

On the surface, it would seem to be an easy choice but when Esù holds up a mirror for you to view the imperfections and to honestly look at the miles you’ve traveled struggling under the weight of your own baggage making a character ebo is one of the steepest mountains to climb.

For me, the choice to take the road of the one thousand miles ebo seems like the best and most logical choice. Bending, yielding and growing around obstacles like a tree for my greater good.

It was the sound of another solo traveler that brought me back from the grove of trees I had been pondering. Several mosquito bites later, I felt a bit wiser and determined to learn more about the ways of trees.

Back in my car, still several hours from my home counting miles and marveling at the extraordinary found in nature.

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Fear and Loathing in ATR/DTR Communities.

To initiate or not to initiate that is the question, whether tis nobler to initiate in Africa or in the Diaspora to suffer the slings and arrows of this ilè vs. that ilè.

Whew… it’s only Tuesday and I have finally come up for air and well, these innanets have me in my feelings before my second cup of coffee! I’m going to start with the shit and end with sugar, bear with me as I vent.

Over the years I have heard countless first and second hand accounts of people being scammed and taken for everything they have when initiated into Orisha traditions, Palo, Voodun, Kemet, etc.. The stories have been heartbreaking and I am often left wondering when the powers that be will swoop down and devour the predators in our communities.

I have seen seemingly strong and fearless men felled by the smooth talk of a Babalawo and women give up their most sacred possessions in the hopes of connecting with spirit and satisfying that deep emptiness that calls out for spiritual nourishment. I ask again, when will it change?

Many people turn to African or Diaspora Traditional Religions for many reasons. The most common reason for this return to ancestral practices is most of us are in some state of chaos in our lives, whether it be financial, health issues, spiritual matters or relationships, we find that the big 3 religions are not providing the solutions we need to change the course of our lives for the better.

It is through chaos that the predator priests and misguided internet fame/money seekers thrive. These types use fear and loathing to reel in those who are at their most vulnerable and desperately in need of love from their spirits.

Predator priests are no different than the pimp on the corner. They are, in their own right, knowledgeable, good diviners and gifted in the subtle art of manipulative talk. These men and women recognize the chaos, emptiness and potential goldmine in those that seek them out for help and they exploit the hell out of it. Everything from exorbitant fees for services, fake trips to Africa for initiation, sexual assault disguised as a spiritual offering, mental abuse, etc. if you can name an outright criminal and/or abusive act hidden under the guise of Orisha, Lwa, Mpungo I can tell you of a true story where such things have occurred.

Then there are the McMagic YouTube Scholars who have had access to credible houses, priests and information, that feel the spiritual downloads they received between episodes of “Luke Cage” was somehow transmitted by Orisha and now gives them license to teach, charge and mislead those who are in chaos and searching for help. They don’t need initiation (but do have a priest on speed dial for clean up in aisle “I fucked up”).

These McMagic types espouse things like;

  1. Oshun only likes light skin daughters
  2. You don’t need initiation to unlock the secrets of Lwa, Orisha or any divinity
  3. Feed your blood to the spirits in a cemetery
  4. Orisha will Mount you at night for sex
  • I could make a list full of ignorance promoted as truth, that would take the masses a month to read in its entirety.
  • The FUCKERY is real and it’s so deep that some days I cannot begin to see how we can stamp out the bullshit that occurs and is prompted globally as truth.
  • It is times like this when I must turn to Spirit, ancestors and my elders for proper guidance and get balance. Why do I do this? It’s because THERE ARE MORE PHENOMENAL PRIESTS AND LAYPERSONS ON THIS PLANET THEN BAD ONES.
  • Let me say it again, THERE ARE MORE PHENOMENAL PRIESTS AND LAYPERSONS ON THIS PLANET THEN BAD ONES.
  • If you’ve made it this far in my rant, thank you! Now let me share with you what I do know.
  • An initiation can happen in Africa or anywhere in the Americas. With the right Godparents, Iyanifa, Babalawo or Awo, your initiation can and will be done correctly. An elder that is truly in service to God, ancestors and Spirits/Energies of their tradition will have ups and downs just like the rest of us BUT, they will make every effort to help you help yourself walk truthfully in your destiny.
  • YOU are solely responsible for who YOU choose to give your spiritual head and heart to. Do your damn homework!! I KNOW that potential godchildren are lead by spirit to their future godparents. If a person has an open recruitment campaign for godkids, question the hell out of that? Why does anyone have to advertise for godkids? Stuff like this reminds me of Christian churches going out into the world to save souls but, in the case of ATR/DTRs a hefty fee is usually attached. Verify a person’s title, talk privately to members of the community to get the 411 on the person you are considering trusting with your well being.
  • Learn to trust this one person I am about to name above all others. This person is YOU! Listen to that little voice, trust that uneasy feeling and/or pay attention to the red flags raised when you are around a so-called elder. Trusting the divine spirit within you may just save your life and a few thousand dollars, as well as, lead you to the right godparents.
  • When I was visiting the home of a woman who claimed to be an Egungun Priest, she was in the process of getting evicted. She had a “bonding” session with potential new members to her Egbe. That bonding session was really just her getting free labor because she and her husband had 4 days to vacate the premises. As I sat and watched what was unfolding, I listened to what walks with me AND what walked in her house. I knew at that moment I would never do any type of business with her, on any level again. I share my personal story with my readership so that you all know that I have made the mistake of walking into situations without fully checking the person out and I have also listened to and obeyed what my spiritual court had said. We all go through this at some point in time, so don’t beat yourself up about making a poor choice. Just fix it and do better going forward. Allow no one to shake your faith and knock you off of your path. If you get burned by a shit stain of a human, take it as a life lesson and move forward.
  • Oh, one more thing if you have a question, ask. Ask a million times if necessary.
  • I’m going to be patient and keep on doing the work I am supposed to be doing in my traditions, Mpungos got this and everything done is seen and eventually addressed.
  • Back to the shrine I go…
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    Beware of Conjure Connie!

    The online spiritual community can be both beneficial and harmful in the same breath. At the click of a link, one can find a angel of a worker or a devil in a Sunday suit.

    Or you might find a Conjure Connie, who imagines being thrown at by every little shadow and is always ready to play the victim with salty tears that fall on demand when called on their fuckery.

    The Conjure Connies of the online spiritual community are one of the most divisive and manipulative types of women walking among the rest of us. The silence of those who know a Conjure Connie or three helps to keep these types in business. So you must be asking yourself “how do I recognize if someone I know is a Conjure Connie?”

    If you have seen or experienced any of the following online, you may have a Conjure Connie on your friends list:

    1. She’s always being thrown at;
    2. She’s always ready to “unleash the beast”;
    3. She always needs “extra magical help” unleashing the beast;
    4. She sends private dm’s explaining why she is being targeted, needs extra magical help and makes sure she tells the person she’s dm’ing they are being targeted for extermination too;
    5. She tries to play both sides against each other by telling lies about the other to start a possible witch war;
    6. When confronted about her lies, treachery and generic brand of witchcraft by the person she’s tried to slander and get strangers to throw at, she blocks the person and then posts that “I am so done. I am done with the bullying. I have never seen a community that seems to thrive on it. What a sad sad state of affairs. I won’t speak up anymore…”;
    7. Then she goes and licks her wounds with her sisters Permit Patty, Barbecue Becky and Wicca-lyte Wendy.
  • Here are some quick responses you can reply to the Conjure Connies in your life when they act up while you sip on your tea:
    1. Weren’t you being thrown at by a priest of {insert ATR name here} last month?;
      What did you do to cause the ire of {insert name of new enemy here}?;
      I thought you unleashed beasts?;
      What did you have for dessert last night?

    Don’t let Conjure Connie pull you into her web of deception and manipulation because her target of the month just may actually be a real witch.

    Conjure Connie please go sit your McMagic ass down somewhere and find something to do like polish your candles, crystals and cauldrons.

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    The Spaces Between Prayer and Ritual

    “Everyone wants to be a Bruja until it’s time to do bujeria shit.”

    I have long since forgotten who had said this all too true statement. I am finding that now, more than ever, so many people talk about Hoodoo this and Maferefun that but do not consistently live a spiritual life.

    Events over the past several days have me assessing and checking myself, doing a full spiritual exam of sorts. Am I a spiritual practitioner or do I live a spiritual life? Which is it?

    I’d like to think that I fully live a spiritual life but the truth of the matter is, I exist in spaces between prayer and ritual. Those loud and quiet spaces where I drop collares and elekes for waist beads, dance shoes and time with my friends. Those spaces where I turn off the spirit chatter and for a brief moment, pretend I never heard the call. Those spaces where I find beauty in sacred weeds growing through concrete and listening to the sounds of the hustlers doing their thing in this ‘in between’.

    I know first hand the transformative power of prayer, of how the properly done ritual will blow a hole through a seemingly unmovable obstacle that will make a nonbeliever know without a doubt that a miracle is what occurs when prayer and ritual marry. But, some days I need to breathe and simply feel like I did as a kid riding my bike along the East River. I crave these spaces during trying times where I have to put emotions aside and help someone transition or after one of those calls/texts at no sleep o’clock. I crave and need the in between.

    LOL! As I write this I realize that I didn’t fully step inside of my in between because I have my no nonsense Yeye here asking me if I have finished with my “what is the meaning of my life moment”. She is literally reminding that my life and destiny is that of prayer, ritual and love. The spaces in between is what I have created along with the spiritual world to find my balance between the living and the dead. LOL indeed, I thought I would have time to get another cup of coffee, write and be all philosophical this morning but alas Yeye ain’t having it and her charge has work to do.

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    Praying for Death

    This time of year always brings back bitter sweet memories (yeah I know, it sounds like I’m about to break out into song). Several years ago my life changed and today I find myself, yet again, in the midst of changes that I have no power over to control the outcome.

    Sometimes I’d like to believe that if I do incantations the right way, make ebo, smile enough, have good character and do good it will somehow delay the inevitable arrival of death. To literally see death on a person has always been disconcerting, I have never really got used to this and don’t think that I will ever truly will. As I sit here waiting in the advanced imaging suite for one of the greatest loves of my life to finish with their exam, I see death in all of her glorious stages on the terminally ill and those that are teetering between being terminal and having a fighting chance to live longer.

    I see the fear, worry and challenges that each individual here is facing and then I see death. It is both interesting and sad for me to be set in the middle of the dance between life and death.

    There is a woman here who has prayed to live long enough to she her grandchild born and a man who is very much alone, afraid and remorseful that he chose work over family, there is a little boy here who knows how precious time is and is having a great time making us all laugh.

    Death is not cruel, it is the actions of people that is cruel. Death is partner to life. Death is not final. I see her playing her part in the universe maintaining balance and this morning she is reminding me about the importance of living a prayerful life that is filled with as much laughter, love and music as possible. Reminding me to fight for what feeds my soul and makes me happy, makes my loves happy.

    I will never be comfortable with death but today, through my tears I am ready to fight for each and every one of my days left and those that I love.

    As soon as I get home, I’m going to dance and pray.

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    Omo Ogun, His Lie and 30 Orogbo aka The Rewards Received for Obedience.

    Bare with me as I recount a true story about a man, his lie and how I learned about how obedience is rewarded.

    Let me start off by saying that some motherfuckers are bold as hell!  Bold to the point where no one would blame you if you rolled up to their house, rang the doorbell, punched them in their face and then dropped a bird at their feet.

    A man whom I shall call Anthony, called his cousin for a late night Ifa reading about a me. Worried that I was working palo on him, he sent his payment, got his telephone recording app ready and waited for his chance to tell his story.  First a little back story on Anthony, according to him, he was crowned Ogun, a descendent of African Royalty and an all around cool brother, at least this is the version of life fantastic that he told.  Well Mr. I’m the Shit took the steps of downloading my picture and sent it to his Babalawo cousin aka Baba Okeydoke for a reading.

    One the night of the reading Baba Okedoke answers the phone and greets Anthony with the following “why are you calling me so late for a reading?”.  Anthony trips over his words and launches into a carefully prepared speech about a spurned woman who lied, manipulated and who is ultimately working Palo on him. The Baba yawned his way through the reading and agreed wholeheartedly with Anthony about me being wicked while never actually doing any type of reading.  Between yawns, food chewing and drink sipping, 24 minutes later, Baba Okeydoke prescribed an ebo of 30 orogbo and 1 rooster to an Orisha that would help Anthony overcome and be victorious over the evil known as the woman in his life.  When Anthony heard the word orogbo, he asked, “what is orge-bo”.  Baba replied “orogbo, you know, kola nuts”.  Anthony says “is that the brown nut thing?”, Baba Okedoke replies yes.  Anthony excitedly tells Cousin Baba that he going to do this ebo and end my wicked reign of terror over his life.

    Anthony invigorated from his reading went on to share copies of his reading to prove to all of the doubters that I was a really really bigly bad Palera doing really really bad stuff to the man-boy.

    Thing is, he lied and the Babalawo did not do a legitimate reading.

    So how did little ole me find out about “Omo Ogun”, his lie and his ebo? I found out because my Egun are who they say they are, Orisha are who they say they are, Mpungo are who they say they are and that recording ended up being played for me and also sent to my inbox.  Imagine listening to a recording and hearing some Basic Billy call you everything but a child of God and asking for a spiritual remedy to stop you in your tracks. I was pissed beyond measure at being accused of things that I didn’t do and felt some kind of way about the bogus reading given by Cousin Baba Okeydoke.  My first thought was to call this low-budget fuckboi and let him know that I did not do any Palo work on him but I could and would so that he wouldn’t be such a liar.  I wanted to confront that Baba for doing nothing more than collecting coin and encouraging a liar to be a liar.  That “reading” was an insult to Iyanifas, Awos and Babalawos that genuienely love Ifa and divine with honesty and integrity.  Through my anger I clearly heard “go to your altar talk it out and do nothing other than pray about it”.  My people, both dead and alive, know that this instruction was against everything that I felt but, I reluctantly complied.

    I talked, cursed, ranted and prayed about this situation. Prayed to see the lesson in all of this. Prayed for understanding as to why I couldn’t turn this man’s life upside down.  As I prayed my own words were told to me, “do you not trust what walks with you?”.  Receiving this, I sat myself down and eventually let this situation go.

    It has been approximately 14 days from the first moment when my Egun woke me up at 4:00 am telling me to go visit my spiritual sister until yesterday, 6/6/2018 at 9:53 pm when the lessons from this experience came fully to light.

    When I was instructed to move, I did so without hesitation.  When I was instructed to stand down and pray, I did so, albeit reluctantly. When I felt move to offer a token of thanks to my entire spiritual frame, I did it with love and to the best of my ability.  The rewards for being obedient and listening, even when I didn’t want to were as follows;

    1. Anthony, called me via video conference with a witness to admit that he lied and apologized;
    2. A Babalawo that I do not know, visited my spiritual sister and exposed everything about Baba Okeydoke  without knowing the backstory;
    3. Any doubts that I had about messages I receive, work that I do, etc. were erased when Spirits delivered messages from known and unknown people to me to say, keep on keeping on daughter, we’ve got you covered;
    4. I was gifted something I needed as a reminder that walking the walk matters. Being honest and having integrity counts;
    5. The most powerful work one can do is pray;
    6. The Divine and all aspects of divinity are alive, real and always on the move;

    There will be days that I struggle with my own personal challenges, days that I don’t particularly feel like doing anything remotely spiritual but believe me when I tell you this, if spirit tells me to move, I will be moving so fast my feet won’t even hit the floor!

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    My Sister’s Kindness

    If you’re lucky you’ll have the pleasure of meeting people who truly embody the light that we all wish to see in everyone we meet.

    This week I lost a sister-friend, Bea. I am still in a semi-state of denial and hoping that perhaps if I call her she’ll pick up and say “girl you are crazy”.

    I hate losing anything. I especially hate losing those that I care about to the other side. While I am fully aware that death is not the end, when it hits close to home I feel salty, sad and question why.

    To know Bea was to know a sweet kindness that many claim to have but lack. She was calm, gentle and kind. She was funny and a great cook. She liked my jokes (which is important if you want to be my friend) and was super smart. Did I mention how kind she was? My friend was kind. Kind to strangers and friends alike. Kind to those who didn’t deserve it. Her kindness was so beautiful that it was unto itself, a form of spirituality. It allowed her to find room for the unlovable and to forgive when forgiveness should not have been an option.

    I have found random tears streaming down my face, totally unaware that I was crying these past few days. She visited me in my dreams last week, to prepare me for what was to come. I knew that her time here was coming to an end but, damn it all to hell, I wasn’t ready. Still not ready.

    Tears are flowing again as I write this latest blog post. I know she was met by her ancestors and given favor because of her heart, so I take comfort in that.

    She showed me, by example, how quiet grace is a virtue and kindness is a balm that one must carry at all times. Tonight I am checking my kindness meter to make sure it is at Bea levels.

    Sis, rise up and continue to spread your balm wherever your next chapter takes you. I am going to miss you my dear.