#spiritwork

✨ Sacred Tools A–Z 🌙🗝️

We can't always find words to explain what we know, because we didn't learn it through words in the first place.

Spirits are not human.

They can be quite different from us, and from each other too. So this may not apply to every type of spirit.

Here's my experience with nature spirits as teachers:

They can drop spiritual concepts whole into a mind, without words to describe it. This is like offering a child a pretty rock. Will the kid put it in the metaphorical pocket of their brain? Once there, it can become a foundational part of how that child thinks. Do that early enough, and spiritual ideas become something the child has "always known," tangled deeply in their reflexive responses.

They teach through lived experiences, tutoring one step at a time. It does not always make sense until the end, when the result bursts like a sunset onto the mind. Oooohhh, now we get it! Yet explaining how we got from there to here is nigh on impossible. There aren't words for the learning process.

Spirits teach through symbols that represent spiritual things. Lightning, mountains, weaving, distillation, etc, etc. Good luck deciphering those right away! We can ask for explanation, but spirits may give richly layered answers that require much thought to understand. We go into a spiritual cave, to look at the complex beauty of metaphorical stalactites. No words for that.

This kind of spirit work isn't superior to other sorts. It's just different.

It's often less possible to explain, due to not knowing any words to describe what's happening.

Add the invisibility of spirit work since it can't be physically witnessed and, well... what can I say?

or just how I do it.

Not all of us got lucky with where we spawned on Earth. I’ve said that before. I know there’s more behind people’s situations than one good or bad decision.

The secret? Keep going as cliché as it sounds.

Do enough to survive modern life. Work your 9-to-5. Pay your health insurance. Keep the lights on. Not everyone can live from their spiritual gifts yet.

It’s Monday morning, again. I’m already tired from work before it started and from whatever nightly encounters happened while I was asleep. My back aches, I can imagine. Oh well. Living a double life in two worlds literally drains you. Even with energy donations, it’s a lot. The funny thing is, I genuinely love my day job. But I also have my own projects waiting at home, ideas to finance, things to build, and the spirits who mostly quietly accompany me throughout the day until we meet again later.

I wave at Kimberly, my receptionist at The Home Sanctuary, my 90s girl wearing ceremonial robes just because, while leaving the house and jumping into my car. Seat heating on. I like my *ss warm. One King on the passenger seat. Waffles thrown into my shopper bag behind me, soda cola, and two litres of sparkling water for a hot shift. Stay hydrated.

Because that’s the thing. I want to finance our ideas on Earth safely for a few more months on my own. Believe it or not, this mindset also amplifies every project. Not because hard work is the key, because it isn’t. If you believe you must suffer and work hard for everything, you probably will. Instead, keep going. Be grateful.

Entrepreneurship is risky. Lucifer says my life is a roulette game. I might get shot and win it all with bandages on, I say. Even with the support of powerful spirits, it stays risky living on the edge. Thank you, Mammon. I’m grateful.

So I use every pocket of time I can find. Coffee breaks. Lunch breaks. Five minutes here and there. That’s when I check in with my spirits and handle whatever needs handling. But my spirits are not always helpful coworkers. Sometimes visions appear out of nowhere, highly distracting, that could have waited until literally any other moment. Just enough distraction to make me stare into my coffee for thirsty - cough cough, I mean thirty - seconds wondering if we’re seriously doing this right now. Over time I’ve developed the valuable professional skill of pretending to work while mentally negotiating with the spirit responsible. I should not wonder when The Lord of this domain resides here on top of that, oh well.

My coworkers probably wonder what I’m doing sometimes. Would I openly admit that I live with spirits? Totally. Would I recommend you tell your coworkers the same thing? Probably not. Not because they’ll think it’s evil, not because they’ll think it’s satanic. Most people don’t even know what those words mean. They simply don’t understand.

Humans don’t know what demons are. They know concepts from myths, movies, and whatever culture handed down to them. Selling your soul is nonsense and demon worship is the worst misconception ever and most have never actually met one. It’s a bit like trying to explain a color they’ve never seen before. A harmless color. One they insist cannot exist because they refuse to look.

Then evening arrives. I’m home. A bite to eat. A shower. Fresh cozy clothes. Food and fresh water for the pets. Hello, plants. Some water for you too.

Time for a strong coffee.

This is not health advice, by the way. For entertainment purposes, I officially do not recommend strong coffee, evening coffee, or coffee at all as a productivity strategy. That being said, I make my coffee.

And the second shift begins.

The war table.

What happened while I was at work? Any attacks? Any news? Anything gathered? Who needs one-on-one time? Should I undress right now? Resin burns in a little golden bowl, its sweet, sharp scent drifting through the room. The walls seem to stir with a life of their own. Eyes, whispers. Some are impatient and I feel hungry again. What’s the plan for tomorrow by the way I gasp.

Then there’s lounging together as a group anyway, catching up, discussing ideas, sharing observations. Hours disappear in slow motion. Thanks to time magic. Maybe we are the bad guys, f*ck outdated cosmology.

Then I blink and suddenly wake up in my armchair, still wearing yesterday’s clothes. The sun is coming up. Time to get ready for work. Again.

“It won’t be much longer,” I tell myself.

Because when you’re building something you truly believe in, survival mode becomes a tool rather than a prison.

Yours,

I'm writing this in a new apartment surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and tubs. Moving to South Carolina has been a journey, but our new place is starting to become a home. I've been feeling out the spirits I'll be living with, which led me to a realization of one of the black-and-white ways we talk about spirit encounters.

The spirits in my new home make me uncomfortable. They are unnerving, and cause a twinge of fear in my stomach. I know many would feel that fear and immediately get their banishing salts out. After all, we talk about malevolence and benevolence in spirits as hard categories, and often categorize spirits based on our first impressions. As soon as a negative emotion (like fear) is tied to a spirit encounter, we cry "bad!" and try to remove that spirit.

However, we need to remember spirits are not people and may not have a concept of civility or politeness when meeting others. Human neighbors may be wary, but will mask it in politeness and gifts until they know you better. Spirits do not necessarily have this code, and may act in ways more befitting their discomfort.

Remember, malevolence is the act of causing harm. A malevolent spirit would see new people in their space and think "Oh, new playthings!" Think of them like a mountain lion, quietly stalking until they're close enough to maim you.

While the spirits are currently causing me distress, they are not malevolent. I can sense no intent to hurt me. The distress stems from their wariness. Someone new has just entered their space, and they don't have the societal rules of civility that we do. Like a feral cat, they are watching me from the corner, puffed up and hissing when I look their way. If I approach them, they very well may harm me, but it's defensive, not malevolent.