A radiant Black girl stands grounded in the cosmos, her hair rising like a celestial flame of intuition and ancestral power. Drawn in bold vector strokes with animated grace, she wears a flowing dress infused with crystal motifs, her gaze steady and sovereign. Surrounding her, luminous spheres of rose quartz, amethyst, and lapis lazuli orbit in slow, intentional movement—each one pulsing with codes of protection, remembrance, and expansion. The backdrop hums with cosmic indigo and violet hues, hinting at a galactic temple unseen by the ordinary eye. Her presence says: I don’t chase energy—I generate it.

Crystal Scripts

Crystal Scripts Energetic Prescriptions for the Soul-Aligned You didn’t arrive here by accident. Your energy has been speaking long before your conscious mind caught up. The tension in your chest. The pull toward clarity. The desire to feel protected, seen, expanded, whole. You’ve been doing the work, showing up, staying present through the unraveling—and now you’re ready to move differently. You don’t need more guesswork. You need precise energetic tools that meet you where you are and elevate everything. This is where I come in. Crystal Scripts are my sacred response to your unspoken prayers. I tune in to the nuances of your energy field—the subtle rhythms, the hidden blockages, the dormant codes asking to be activated. I read your body’s frequency like a language…

A radiant Black woman sits in stillness, eyes closed, surrounded by glowing candles and delicate strands of light extending outward from her body like threads of connection. Her palms face upward in quiet offering, hair spread like a crown behind her. The scene glows with reverence and remembrance, embodying the unseen yet deeply felt nature of energetic bonds, ancestral wisdom, and spiritual sovereignty.

Understanding Energetic Connections

Understanding Energetic Connections The Invisible Threads That Shape Our Lives Some people pass through my life like wind—gentle, fleeting, unbothered. Others arrive and leave a vibration so deep I feel them long after they’re gone. The laugh, the ache, the pull in my chest. The question that lingers. The memory that stirs without warning. These are signs of energetic connection. Before we go any further, I want to be clear—these categories aren’t law. They’re not fixed, firm, or written in stone. This is my current understanding of energetic connections, shaped through lived experience, observation, spiritual practice, deep remembering, and the very real limitations of language. Words help us make sense of the unspeakable. Labels offer a framework, but they’re not the full story. Identifying something…

A radiant Black woman sits at the head of a long, ancient table, cloaked in deep fabrics that shimmer like galaxies and velvet. Her crown is not just gold; it pulses with memory and magic. Her eyes hold lifetimes. Around her sit five distinct figures, each embodying a different facet of her shadow and strength. One wears a skeletal grin and a top hat, laughing with death and timing. Another is cloaked in feathers and watches with regal distance, protecting the parts that trust slowly. A third glows with molten gold eyes and vine-wrapped limbs, the part that thrives in chaos. The fourth shimmers with cosmic skin, a keeper of visions and the unseen. The last is mist with gemstone tears, carrying the grief that shaped her into something precious. This is not a war. It is a gathering. A feast of power, truth, and transformation. The woman at the head is not haunted by her shadows. She invites them in, feeds them, and listens. She is the architect of the ritual, the fire in the center, the story they all serve.

Feasting with My Inner Villains

Feasting with My Inner Villains A Ceremony of Shadow and Sovereignty There is a table within me. A long, ornate table lit by candlelight and courage. Around it sit the parts of myself I once tried to exile—the inner villains I feared, avoided, and judged. But now I invite them to dine. Not to tame them. Not to fight them. But to listen, to witness, to understand. This is no ordinary feast. This is a ritual of reclamation. Each of these inner archetypes once stormed through my life like uninvited guests, disrupting my peace, stealing my clarity. Doubt told me I was never enough. Anger flared when I felt invisible. Fear froze me in place just as I tried to leap. I used to call…

Type to search