Ritual Called Me Home

I’ve been thinking a lot about ritual lately and not in a performative way, not as aesthetics, but as a way of returning to myself and returning home. After revisiting the ritual chapter in The Spirit of Intimacy by Sobonfu Somé, something inside me softened and opened. Her words reminded me that ritual is simple. It is personal. It is honest.

Ritual is intention.

Ritual is sincerity.

Ritual is openness.

It begins with knowing that everything we need already lives within us. When we step into ritual, we aren’t trying to force spirit to move. We’re aligning ourselves with the movement already happening. We’re saying, I am here. I am listening.

And the moment we listen, we feel something: our ancestors never come alone.

They come with backup — with friends, with kin, with the ones who walked before us and the ones rooted in earth and water. Some ancestors look like our great-grandparents. Some look like trees. Some sound like rivers. Some appear as wind, mountains, animals, or instincts. Some we’ve never met but still recognize in our body and bones.

That’s why certain places pull us with no logical explanation. Boston cracked something open in me. London whispered to me before I ever booked the flight. New Orleans summoned me with a force that felt ancestral, not accidental. And Africa? Africa isn’t calling, she’s screaming. Portugal keeps tugging at my spirit too, saying, come explore, come live, come stretch into a new version of yourself. And now California is calling me too — calling me to set up shop, to plant myself, to expand.

These callings aren’t coincidences or random. They are invitations and initiations. And ritual is how I learned to hear them.

Once I became open, truly open to my guides, everything in my life began to flow. Not perfectly, but purposefully. Opportunities aligned. Creativity unlocked. My intuition sharpened. My path became clearer even when my surroundings didn’t.

Some people will never understand that, because they are disconnected from themselves. Disconnected from spirit. Disconnected from the quiet inner place where truth speaks. But I will always keep myself open. I will always listen. I will always follow the guidance that rises from within.

My spiritual practice isn’t separate from my everyday life — it’s woven into it.

I honor my ancestors through prayer, through silence, through offerings, and through the way I move. I keep my life intentional.

I work with candles the way I work with my intuition, by noticing.

Color holds energy:

• Red for passion, courage, and vitality think fire in motion.

• Yellow for confidence, creativity, and clear thinking it is the light turning on.

• Purple for spiritual power and elevation. My mom always told me purple is power.

• White for clarity and cleansing.

• Green for money flow, abundance and opportunity.

• Pink for softness and compassion.

• Blue for truth and communication.

• Black for protection and boundary-setting.

The flame itself becomes a conversation.

Rootwork shows up quietly, in natural ways:

• Cinnamon and salt rituals on Saturdays to cleanse, reset, and call sweetness back in.

• Florida Water to wipe away heavy energy from my hands and my space.

• Money bowls as anchors for abundance and alignment.

• Herbal teas blended intuitively for grounding, clarity, creativity, and peace.

• Spiritual baths (even in a shower) by steeping herbs and pouring them over myself with intention.

None of this is performance.

None of this is aesthetic.

This is alignment.

This is memory.

This is relationship.

Once I truly opened myself to my guides, once I stopped questioning the pulls and started honoring them, my life began to make sense in new ways. Doors opened. Lessons appeared. Healing deepened. My world expanded.

Everything I need is already within me.

My work is to listen.

Listen to my intuition.

Listen to my ancestors.

Listen to God within me.

Listen to the places calling my name.

This is what ritual taught me:

I am guided.

I am supported.

I am never alone.

And when I stay open, life flows exactly how it’s meant to.

Ritual didn’t just ground me it called me home.