08/25/2025
🌿✨ This weekend, the veil felt thin.
I began with smoke and salt—cleansing my own body, breath, and bones.
Grief had settled in the corners, quiet but heavy. I let it rise, then rinsed it away.
A friend’s home called next.
I walked through each room with intention, whispering to the walls,
inviting release, inviting peace.
The air shifted. The house exhaled.
Then my tools—my deathwalker bag, my sacred instruments.
Each one held stories, residue, memory.
I laid them out under moonlight, partly cloudy light rain
washed them in silence,
and asked them to remember only what serves.
Finally, I stood beside a client and their caregiver.
Two souls tethered by love and exhaustion.
I offered grounding, breath, and ritual.
Not to fix—but to witness.
To remind them: they are not alone in this crossing.
We are all walking each other home.
Some with candles. Some with tears.
Some with the quiet power of a freshly cleansed .
