Seed, Root+Bloom

03/11/2019

[re]birthing a new container for my work: la mala yerba!
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la mala yerba is a política, a praxis, an ancestor reclamation movement. the colonizer may have cut our tongues, but they can not cut our roots.

todxs somos mala yerberxs//we are all bad weeds birthing interventions + resistance everywhere.
my mala yerbera medicine is where ancestors, plants + putxs meet​. we ​co-create spaces of remembrance for black, indigenous, people of color, explicitly including Asian, Pacific Islanders, Hawaiian folx [bipoc], where we ritualize healing ourselves, each other, and the sacredness of earth + ancestor. we create multi-hour to multi-month healing experiences where we call home the sacred that has been displaced by colonization + capitalism. we co-create with you, where ever you live, in your hood, on your reservation, in your home, because we know that all revolutions began here. we welcome in the medicine of your ancestors as we remember the healing possible in sacred community, ceremony + sharing intimacy with earth's sacred offerings: the elements + the plants. 🌱
check out the magickal website created through the support of photography by Danny M , artwork by Dara Brayer + the countless of souls who support my labor by sitting in circle and covering me in honey with with prayers

FOLLOW MY JOURNEYS at facebook.com/lamalayerbalove or on instagram

indigeq***r connections to the sacredness of self, plantitas & ancestor

02/11/2019

abrazos antepasados, siempre están en nuestro corazón y en todo lo que creamos//mad hugs to your ancestors, you’re always in our hearts + in all that we create
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honoring + celebrating all souls today. celebrating our black, our two-spirit, our taken too soon, our-you-may-have-taken-our-lives-but-you-won’t-take-our-seeds ancestors. celebrating those whose names were taken by colonizing tongues, those who rewrote their identities but never their hearts to survive, all those brujés who kept the sweet fires so we may exist today.
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co-created altar during today’s rites of passage gathering

01/11/2019

protect ALL children
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we welcome a trecena (13 day period) governed by Miquiztli, god of death, a temporality were much like Scorpio medicine we live intimately bound by the call to release into death. we are called to surrender to the offerings that live in death: resolution, patience, compost, hope, rebirth, new seeds. today we straddle briefest moment between old endings and new beginnings, what needs to be released, what’s dying AND what is to come, the new life being born. it’s with much sweetness in this shadow period that my homie cultura begins to close out honoring our ancestors. our celebrations of our dead don’t just happen on nov 1 or 2, or the 1st and the 2nd. our 5000 year traditions have been honoring the dead daily and with festivities beginning in October. in some mexica, Mixtec and Zapotec traditions this begins on the 28 of October. today we begin the keepers of dead literally open the portal for us to have long ass platicas with ancestors, for us to feed them, for us to take in the medicine of their life. today nov 1 es el día de los inocentes//day of the innocents when we honor the lives of the babbbbeees who past when they were young. today I’m honoring the littles who died during childbirth, those through miscarriages, those through abortions, those taken on our black + brown streets, those claimed in ICE detention centers, those taken in the ongoing warfare from Honduras to Lebanon. today I call you to lift your prayers for all of our children. all children are ours. they were placed in this realm because they have sacred medicine to offer, medicine only they can offer. it’s to us to PROTECT them. it is for us to keep them innocent; innocent, not docile or unaware. it is for us to support them in living out their soul journey. much love to the little elders today
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holding one of the magick humans Vida whose life I supported in coming over to this realm. gratitude to Pati y Christy for giving Vida a q***r bipoc and chingona life!

30/10/2019

some sh*t is between spirit + me
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some moons ago posted the magick “protect our medicine.” I brought their call into ceremony and into platica with my elders. what is our indigenous medicine? how do we share it responsibly? how to we protect it from exploitation and approbation? our indigenous technologies are literally the reason you are reading this post, will eat nourishing foods + exist today. and still folx (sun)consciously invested in the neocolonial project don’t yet live or honor this truth.

I welcome you into pedacitos, small little parts of my spiritual journey and the work I do in service of bipoc liberation through this platform. what I share is not complete, neither will I bitch out my ancestors nor elders. I protect my cultura, ancestors’s medicine, and uphold my elder’s teachings. I move from the questions of how to hold my indigenous technologies with integrity, how to move from the counsel of my spirit community, and how to exist unapologetically without having to explain that there are some things you just won’t know about my spirit practice. some sh*t is between spirit + me.

29/10/2019

while revolutionaries as individuals can be murdered, their ideas cannot be killed
-Thomas Sankara
Burkinabé revolutionary y president of Burkina Faso from 1983 to 1987
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the medicine of the autumn energies we’ve descended in are offering the strength for revolutionizes EVERYWHERE. there are those revolutions being televised, those being censored by big media, those only felt by those woken, those revolutions that are happening inside of us. where ever you are, listen to the ideas around you. they are ancient, they are where liberation lives.
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photo of transitioning ghost pipe. y’all have you ever witnessed them flowering’s + in their pinkssss?!

23/10/2019

we are living in revolutionary times, and I just wanted to remind you that it’s okay to be depressed + tap out to tap into yourself
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yesterday I came to the dead to pause. in between the headlines + joy of the resistance everywhere, I’m mourning + healing with depression. I felt all sorts of guilt laying instead of picking up my machete + fuego to lay my body with my siblings fighting militaries everywhere. I stopped reading, watching and platicas. I sat. I paused. I let myself myself be a chillona, crying for all those in Chile, Ecuador, Sinaloa, Standing Rock, Palestine, Roxbury not coming home. in between the tears I began to breathe with intention, instead from next to next. I began to feel into the stillness needed to honor the lives claimed by the arms of capitalism and neocolonialism. I felt into what it means to not live headline to headline, rather human to human. feeling into the grief took me into my depression this morning. I laid, and then laid some more until i didn’t. some times living in these revolutionary times looks like me being depressed, a mess, and barely present in my own skin. and I’m pretty aight with it. my resistance today looked like daring to exist.

19/10/2019

my braids can whip you.
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my braids can open up worlds you didn’t think were possible. my braids can set you q***r, open your magia, eat bits of your soul only indigeputería can bring you. these braids can liberate.

17/10/2019

this season is for burying + unearthing our bones
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in my traditions we recognize the coals of our sacred fire as the bones of our ancestors. we see their bones in the skeletons of plants decomposing back to the earth. we feel their weight as they land on us with the waters + airs that cleanse our faces. this season I hear the rattling of their bones in every sunrise, sh*t their rattle gets me to sunrise. nos están despertando//they are waking us. waking is to the medicine of death, life, rebirth. whether you live in a place that holds full seasonal transitions, the planet transitions, the earth’s energías is in full shifts right now, we are all touched by this medicine. in these moments we anchor into our ancestors’s bones. being mad intentional about the ancestors we are calling into this time of the many deaths. deaths of relationships to self + others, deaths of old perspectives + habits, and literally deaths, the deaths of our indigenous, black trans, earth keepers that white mans wages war on in all seasons. we call them through veil to be our guides in surrendering into the death and inevitable rebirth to come. these bones have a lot to offer us. a tu tiempo, in your own rhythms, go out there an unearth them. get your fingers into tierra, listen for the whispers of the bones that need to be returned to decompose + find new life (I’m looking at you colonizing bloods y maneras inside me). listen to the whispers. despierta. the bones have you.
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seagull + deer bones buried last winter resurfaced October 2019

14/10/2019

still here.
indigenous day 2019
land of the lenape
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I’m rolling in the revolutionary October we are in, indigenous communities in between, around + within Mauna Kea to Ecuador are still here. we are indigenous, and still here. we don’t live between the pages of your history books. we are your neighbor, food grower, and the prophets that are stewarding these times. we are here. we are here with our llanto, canto, danzas y resistencia creating the futures we deserve. here remembering that indigenous doesn’t look one way, and resistance happens in all the ways. today I dressed in a gifted huipil from my maya ancestors and felt q***r AF in my indigenous identity with my braids. today I felt strong and whole being indigenous + q***r. my thick, don’t-f**k-with-me braids because they can wipe colonization y todas las vergas back to the black hole they came from, are all I need to resist. ¡ōmeteōtl to todos los Pueblo’s indígenas!
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ps the second is my nanatsin’s (aka my mamá) favorite photo because she says I look like her little again. @ Randall's Island Park

13/10/2019

h u n t e r’ s m o o n
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today at 11:18a EST we welcomed in a full moon in Aries in the day ruled by mazatl. we are about to be in deep communion with the tensions that keep us from realizing our fire-filled passions + desires. conflict arrives to propel us into the change we are needing. we literally will not be able to avoid getting face to face with any unresolved fear, doubt or medicine-blocking we allow to rule us. mazatl, medicine of deer, with the hunter are here to steward us into resting old habits, whether they have supported our survival or learned ways of self-sabotage. my putx ancestor-in-training advice is to get cute with your pain. learn what turns them on, what suppresses them, what opens them long enough to be cleared + released. what ever you do, it’s gonna sizzzzllle. prayers up.

11/10/2019

out or not, YOU ARE LOVED
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from one indigeq***r putx perversa to another:
whether you are on a journey to being your whole self, living it up in the glitter and leather as your papi self, eat bits that look like you’re, whether you identify with a rainbow label of q***r, le***an, gay y mas, your jotería how ever it ancestorfests matters. it’s hot, it’s political, it’s radical. it’s national coming out day on turtle island. today is a reminder that it’s a privilege to be out, intersectional, bipoc, and alive. it’s not safe for us all to be out within our families, our communities, the geographical borders we live in. afuera with pressuring each other to be “out.” I’d rather my siblings be safe and honored. just wanted to say to you gaybeess, questioning, open (like this term over curious bc let’s face it I’m not trying to be someone’s experiment), full living in your putería, TE AMO. I LOVE YOU. YOU ARE LOVED.