Back in May 2023, I went to my local Voodoo Manbo’s shop looking for a spiritual consultation. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn’t expecting to go on a personal spiritual journey that was, at times, difficult, but has, so far, been quite rewarding.
“I guess I wasn’t supposed to be here today”
For starters, I first went there in October 2022. I’d made the appointment to see the houngan (the resident Voodoo priest). When I showed up, there were a series of inexplicable mistakes where my reservation had been written onto a date that was 2 months into the future, and the confirmation emails, which should have been immediately sent weren’t … they were all just as confused as I was. My response said it all: “I guess I wasn’t supposed to be here today.”
The Appointment
When I finally did my appointment, half a year later, nothing was amiss. I secured a purple mouchwa wrap on my head, walked through a large wooden door in the back of the shop, removed my shoes, cleansed myself with florida water and smoke, and was ushered through another wooden door into an expansive, very dark room; lit with only a few candles. I was told to walk towards the back and to sit down in the chair.
This chair was a bit short for me. I’m a tall woman. So, with my knees at my tits, I sat there waiting for the houngan to speak. As my eyes got used to the light, the translator sat down, spoke to the houngan. He asked my name, where I was from, and why I’d come to see him. Truthfully, I didn’t know how to answer.
Do I tell him that my father recently passed after me finding him only a year before? Or that I had suffered psychological abuse in my marriage, which was now over? What about the fact that I’d had many dreams where I believe an archangel came to me? My mind was swirling around with possibilities, and I finally told him, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”
What followed was a 3 hour conversation that, looking back, has changed my life in so many ways.
The Ritual
The houngan had prescribed for me to build an altar. On this altar I would place 5 dedicated seven day candles. Every night, at the same time, for 21 nights, I was to prepare a glass of water, a glass of red wine, and 2 freshly brewed cups of coffee … one with sugar, the other black. I was to flood the space with frankincense smoke. Douse myself in florida water. Light the candles, and pray with my intentions in mind.
In order for me to prepare myself for this ritual, I had to bathe from the neck down with sacred salt. I felt that since this was a cleansing ritual, I might as well do an internal cleanse as well. So, no more booze and no more shitty food.
Every single night, I’d wait for my kid to go to sleep and begin. I’d take the cups from the night before, and dump them outside. And every single night, my head got a bit clearer. My intentions a little less scattered. And in the morning when I’d wake up, I’d actually have the motivation to get shit done. Like DONE.
I dug up myself a garden, painted my living room, rearranged my furniture, hung pictures, and unpacked/put away most of the moving boxes that I’d been procrastinating about since I moved into my place back in April. I felt pretty accomplished.
The last night of the ritual was an odd one. I’d bought a white dress, which I’d never wear for anything else, btw. I flooded the house with frankincense smoke. I readied the beverages. I lit my candles. I prayed. Afterwards, I gathered up the candles, which were still lit, and brought them to my bathroom. I had been given a Ritual Bath, containing many different dried herbs, including blue lotus flower. I was to bring 2 liters of water to a boil, dump the herbs into it, cover it, let it steep for 20 minutes, then add another 2 liters of cool water to make it tolerable for the bath.
So, there I stood, in my bathtub. I set the pot down next to me. Grabbing handfuls of these rehydrated herbs, and scrubbing them from toes to neck. I thought about my intentions, about my experience. I spoke them aloud as I scrubbed. Once all of the bulk was spent, I squished its remaining liquid onto my body.
I want you to imagine a dark haired woman laying in her empty tub. Candles flickering. Her legs up in the air. She’s pouring a large pot of warm tea from her toes to her neck. The scent is absolutely DIVINE …
I can guarantee that if that image in your mind is in any way “sexy”, your imagination is sorely mistaken. I was covered in pulpy bits of plant material and expected to air dry. Afterwards, I put on white panties, my white dress, and slept with my hair wrapped up in a mouchwa.
The Morning After
I came to some realizations the very next morning. A dream that I’d had several times previously was suddenly made clear to me. In it, I’m walking down Prytania Street in new Orleans; surrounded by large mansions. I walk into one of them, and towards the backyard. There, I find a small pond. It has a boathouse, and a dock running up the left side of it. Each time I am there, I’m encouraged in some way to get into the water of the pond. The sky is overcast.
In the 1st dream, I just stood on the dock looking down, into the water, which was dark, and cold seeming. In later experiences, I’m in a boat by myself. In another, in a boat with a man who jumps into the water; eagerly telling me to come on in, the water is perfect. But the last time that I had this dream, it was very different.
It’s a wonderfully sunny day. I walk up to the house. I go towards the pond in the back, and I am met by a tall, dark skinned man. He has dreadlocks pulled half up. He is smiling at me and says, “There are snakes in the water, but they’re benign.” I start to take off my clothes, and step into the water. It’s not cold, it’s the exact temperature of my skin. As I walk deeper into the water, I can see all the way to the bottom with crystal clarity. Snakes with bright blue rattles are swimming all around me, even underneath me.
I decide to swim just past the boathouse. And the farther I go, the more snakes there are. I’m reminded that they won’t hurt me, but I’m starting to worry about disturbing them. I calmly swim back to the shore, and ask the man if he’s going to go in. He tells me no, that he’d end up with snakes in his hair. He hands me a towel, and as I move my fingers through my wet hair, I find one of them has nestled into my hair. I wake up.
I’d had that last dream about 2 weeks before I met the houngan. The morning after I checked their website to see if there were any pictures of him. I found some, and HE WAS THE MAN FROM THE DREAM.
The Results (so far)
I ended this ritual about a week ago, as of this writing. I can honestly say that my mind is a lot clearer. I live in the United States, and, just in case you’re unaware of everything that’s happening here right now … It’s been pretty crazy. But, I realized that me paying mind to the cycle of Outrage and Fear was utterly pointless. Distraction after distraction. So, here I am. Distracted only by my own procrastination, sure, but I have bigger things to work towards. And, most importantly, I feel a sense of purpose for the first time, in a very, very long time.
I’m getting ready to go back to school to finish up my college degrees. I’ve signed up for an internship and for another degree certificate. I’ve started to work on mediation and astral projection. I’ve stopped speaking my intentions to others who don’t deserve to know. I am more in touch with my energy; where and to whom I present it.
The houngan told me to continue with the ritual, but only 2x per week, and I intend to.
