Sacred Smoke & Soulwork

            There's a divine rhythm pulsing quietly beneath the noise-a sacred invitation to pause, breathe, and simply be. That rhythm is called the Sabbath.     In a culture obsessed with hustle, the Sabbath is rebellion. It's sacred resistance. It's the refusal to let our souls be ruled by the to-do lists and ticking clocks. It's a bold declaration that we were made for more than striving-that rest is holy. 🕊 The Sabbath Is Not Just a Suggestion-It's a Commandment     Let's go straight to Scripture-because the Sabbath isn't just a "nice idea" or a wellness trend. It's one of the Ten Commandments, carved into stone by the very finger of God:     " Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work: But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work..." -Exodus 20:8-10     It's also reiterated in Deuteronomy 5:12-14, with a powerful r...

" I am come a light into the world, that whosoever believes in me should not abide in darkness." John 12:46     In March of 2024, I left everything I knew-my husband, my children, my home-and moved to Canada chasing something I thought might feel like peace.     I wasn't trying to escape love. I was trying to feel worthy of it again.     This isn't a dramatic tale of running away to find myself-it's the honest, humbling truth of what happens when we chase healing in the wrong direction and discover, sometimes painfully, that the path home was through the very place we left behind.     🌱What Came Before     We'd been together since 2004, and like most long relationships, our marriage had seen storms. I'd made mistakes-deep ones. I had left before. And in the years that followed, I tried to prove myself over and over. My heart wanted restoration, but I was worn down from always reaching.     In January 2024, I heard from someone...

When I was institutionalized, they held karaoke nights. No microphones-probably because they could've been thrown, and let's be real...that was a legitimate concern. 😅 But the songs still came. Most were oldies. Familiar tunes with melodies that stirred memories long buried. And my fellow patients? Some of them sang with such raw beauty that I was stunned. I hadn't expected so much talent in a room filled with such pain. At the time, I didn't understand the purpose of it. I just figured it was one more awkward attempt at group therapy, disguised in music. But deep down, I think those moments planted something in me.  Fast forward-not to years later, but to what I now call my healing era. Because honestly, I've come so far in such a short time, it feels like a lifetime. And somewhere on this journey, I read something that completely stopped me in my tracks: The vibrations from singing help regulate your nervous system. Yep. Singing literally engages the vagus nerve-...

  Grace doesn't come with a timestamp.    I don't know who needs to hear this today (besides, well...all of us), but healing is not a race.      There is no stopwatch in heaven counting how fast you "get over it." No divine progress bar filling up so God can pat you on the back and say, "Now you're fixed."     And yet, we live in a world that acts like healing should happen quickly-efficiently, quietly, and preferably while you're still showing up to work on time and smiling through your breakdowns.     Capitalism doesn't make room for grief. It doesn't honor trauma. It doesn't pay you to slow down and patch up the soul you've been dragging behind you just to survive.     But the Spirit does.     The Spirit knows your name, your wounds, your rhythm. The Spirit whispers things like: "It's okay to take a while." "You're allowed to fall apart." "Rest is a holy rebellion."  Let's talk about the pr...

      In a world that never stops buzzing-notifications, newsfeeds, algorithms-we're slowly forgetting something vital: our roots. Not just our family roots or our spiritual ones (though those matter too), but our human roots. The ones that run deep through the soil, past the distractions and into the sacred rhythm of nature.     When was the last time you heard nothing but birdsong? Or watched the stars without a screen between you and the sky?     There's something healing-no, holy-about stepping into the wild, even for just a night. Whether it's pitching a tent under a canopy of stars, dipping your toes into a lake, or just breathing in the crisp morning air with no Wi-Fi signal in sight, nature ha this divine way of hitting the reset button on our nervous systems.     We weren't built to constantly scroll. We weren't designed to chase endless notifications or compare our lives to filtered highlight reels. We were meant to walk barefoot, t...

    Let me be clear about something-I'm not writing this from the top of a mountain. I'm not here because I mastered mental health, figured out life, or learned how to levitate out of anxiety and depression (though let's be honest, I wouldn't hate that skill).     I'm writing this from the middle. From the mess. From the ashes I'm still sifting through.     But I've found some light-and I believe it's meant to be shared. I still have bad days. I still lose my temper. I still wrestle with exhaustion, doubt, brain fog, and old wounds that whisper lies.     But I also have tools now. And people. And a sense of sacred purpose that reminds me my healing isn't supposed to be pretty-it's supposed to be real. The Tools That Help Me Keep Showing Up     Everyone's path is different, but these are the soul-tools that keep me grounded when my world feels unsteady: Journaling (Even the Ugly Truths) I write what I can't always say. Some days it's p...

               There's something sacred about the stillness that settles over my soul when I inhale deeply, not just breath-but intention. I light the flame, not to escape, but to engage. With myself. With the Divine. With the ache in my bones and the hope in my heart.      Some days, my faith is a roaring fire. Other days, it's more like the flicker of a smoldering wick-but it never goes out. And I've learned that God meets me in both.     For me, cannabis isn't a rebellion. It's a ritual. It's a way to calm the chaos long enough to listen. To feel the Spirit whisper through the noise. It's part of how I slow down, drop in, and surrender the weight I was never meant to carry alone.   Faith is the root. Cannabis is the companion.  And grace is the growth.        We don't talk enough healing in its rawest form-the moments that feel messy, unconventional, misunderstood. But healing isn't always ...

  " The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations."  -Revelation 22:2     There's a divine design hidden in the plants around us. From the lavender fields to the citrus groves, and yes-even cannabis-these creations weren't accidents. They were intentions.           As someone who has walked through the fire of mental illness, I've found small tools of healing tucked in God's garden-one of the most powerful being terpenes. Let's talk about what they are, how they work, and why they matter for those of us fighting to feel whole again. What Are Terpenes, Really?     Break it down simply: Terpenes are aromatic compounds in plants. They're what give lavender its calm, citrus its pep, and cannabis its vibe  Found not only in cannabis, but also in herbs, spices, and trees-terpenes are nature's pharmacy.   How Terpenes Influence Mental Health     They interact with the limbic system (emotion center...

This Mother's Day I Choose Grace: A Story of Survival, Healing & Coming Home to Myself   Introduction:     This Mother's Day isn't like the ones before. It isn't draped in pastels or smothered in brunch plans. It's quieter...deeper. It's not just about being a mom- it's about surviving as one. Rebuilding as one. And finally, forgiving myself enough to believe that I deserve this day, too. The Wreckage of 2024     Last year broke me. I don't say that lightly. I spiraled. I lost my footing, my relationships, my home-and for a while my will to keep going. I was institutionalized. I was homeless. I was alone in every possible sense, and my battle with Borderline Personality Disorder nearly consumed me.           There were nights I didn't think I'd make it. Days I didn't want to. The pain, the guilt, the shame-they were louder than any hope I could hear.     But I'm Still Here.     And that alone is a miracle....