I have been feeling lately like I have been letting so many people down. There’s this list, you know, that I’ve been keeping of folks that I am letting down. Somehow at the top of this imaginary list are the people I work for. Thinking I am not giving my all, and somehow not managing my time enough. To their standards I guess I am not. When in reality, I should have been spending more time with my daughter, I should have gotten to Baltimore to see my Mother, Sister, Nieces and Nephew, that I should be spending more time with my Partner, spending more time on these stories and art projects swirling around in my head, should be spending more time in my garden, I should be organizing our house, I should have more time to cry and process all the injustices in the world, that I should be on the front lines in Mississippi, along with other enraged Mothers, fighting on behalf of a baby that was shot to death in a Walmart parking lot! I should have been spending more of MY time with myself!!! Swimming more, doing more yoga, more crying, more grieving, more aligning——My FUCKING timing is on someone else’s time. I’m becoming undone. And in that reading I knew that I have a choice. That I always have. Had the means and the ability to center and prioritize what I want. That the smoke and mirrors of Capitalism is the spell that leaves you thinking that you cannot make time for yourself, your loved ones and your desires because your life is defined by your production.

It was a 4 card spread. Strength kicked it off and it ended with Temperance. My understanding of Temperance is that its a card that is forever a teacher and a student. Ruled by the forever curious sign of Sag. That I have a lot to learn here, in these current roles. In this current version of role playing (speaking again to imposter syndrome, trying to look at it more as drag) I also have a lot to offer. That from my lived life experience I surely have knowledges to bring to the table and I know that I do. However bending my time and getting myself to the top of that list is a real skill that I will have to revisit over and over again. For sure things/people may have to move up and down, but we have to honor ourselves in the turning Universe.

I want to come back to Strength and ease into the Knight of Wands. I want to talk about the soft gentle side of taming fear, the wild beast that is outside of us and inside of us all the time. And that the act of taming and mounting our fear, takes a level of commitment and honor. It’s an honor to know what you are scared of. From spiders, to letting people down, to first dates. And that your strength doesn’t always need to show up as ferocious as a Lion, but it can be small, subtle, silent and internal. Like telling yourself the Truth. Or breaking bad habits. You may fear the person you are without the weed or liquor for example. You may have fear of being seen without make-up! I may have fear of people viewing me in a crop top. Ease into it. Be gentle and have Integrity. Being patient, being yourself, and authentic even when no one is watching, is you honoring your beliefs, in your integrity. The Knight of Wands speaks boldly about chasing after your dreams and being authentic. That all you can really offer is who you are. That somehow the Knight of Wands (or in this deck, The Prince of Wands) is the Strength in action. The fire that was ignited, part of my rebellion, Strength is being carried out by this teenager that is not afraid! He is determined and is going for their dreams or to anything else that they want and are certain. Ending with Temperance in this spread also shows a depiction of balance. Pouring water from one cup into another. How can you balance it all? All of what your learning and what you have to offer-and yourself.

And so, my bravery doesn’t have to show up as “power over” but as “power within”. That it is my job to operate differently then these complexes & organizations, that are only looking to scale. 3 of cups was the second card pulled after Strength and is a card I get a lot. I think that 3 of cups displays my witnessing. My need to be witnessed. My community, the community I am in and the ones I am affiliated with and or are creating; as the work I do is very community orientated. And a reminder that I need to lean into my chosen family and community for support when I am feeling like I am wearing someone else so I can become what others want me to be. So I leave you with this quote.

“Integrity is not like your clothes that you change. Integrity is more like your skin, you live in it, you can’t swap it out, Integrity smacks at the deepest parts of yourself.” - Sacredhappiness on IG, Florie Johnson

Seasons. There’s the 4 we all know! Especially in the “West”. When one saids, “seasons”, we think Spring, Summer, Fall & Winter. And while these seasons help us divide up the gregorian calendar year, & help to identify distinct weather patterns and ecological differences, folks may also identify seasons with different phases of their own lives. “I’m in an abundant season”, some may say. “I’m in a dark season”, other’s may identify. Then there are also of course “collective seasons”. Think about our Covid pandemic, the season of ‘staying inside’! Which makes me think of The Hermit card in Tarot and that we all could find ourselves in that card during that time. This isn’t just because we are on the cusp of the Summer Solstice, and we all WILL be partaking in it, in one way or another. From our first swim, our kids getting out of school, our kids going to summer camp, or it’s just the time to put your air conditioner on. We mark this shift with a seasonal routine. Sometimes the shift is on the inside and has nothing to do with the weather patterns or tree foliage. Sometimes our wants, desires, and longings shift and we know then,-that we may be entering another season—in life.

Well I am here to proclaim that I am entering a new season. There have been some internal shifts, external shifts and of course the stars and the moon are there, supporting the flow the whole time. I am having these moments in my life, where I ask myself, “is my “work” in support of my purpose?” Just that questioning signifies growth, if you ask me. I truly believe my purpose is to create, to study, to follow my passions, to reach a higher vibration, find ways to work in cooperation, to breathe, uncover secrets, to help people, to collect stories and to share with others. That’s written in my chart in fact. Even with all of that to bring Earth side, I find myself getting lost in adulting. In the mundane. In the day in, day out, responsibilities and the Work responsibilities. One of my Supervisor’s recently told me “I don’t think your strong suit is logistics”. I replied with, “You think?”. At first taste I took it rather salty. Someone saying your not good at something will make anyone a little reactive. However, after further digestion I shared with her—”I’m an artist that straddles the world of community work and I work at a non-profit with a lot of deliverables, and I am doing my best.” She nodded and accepted that, and talked about my gifts in an uplifting factor. I left that meeting confused. Grateful and Confused. Here I am sticking up for myself, which again—shows growth! But the adulting part of me, knows, that they see my value based off of time and producing, and that some of my weaknesses need improvement. I feel exposed! Fraudulent and also strangely…Seen! She’s right. Paperwork is NOT my strong suit. And something I loathe. (Hence why I still haven’t done my taxes) So why does it hurt, when our truths are front and center? Is it because of the edge they present?

Look, the boxes are checked. I have a job. I don’t hate it by any means. I am able to provide for my family and treat ,myself to some niceties. I do feel overworked sometimes but I work in the non-profit industrial complex-I am not alone in feeling overworked. I am Adulting!!! I pay my bills, but I think my edges are bleeding over into more and more about what “they” want, than what “I” want. And somehow my rebellious truth, my last strong hold is, logistics?!?! Yeah the kid in me wants to rip up every piece of paper and sometimes chuck my cellphone right out of the car window. The kid in me see’s stacks of paper, either in person or in emails as pointless, unless I collaged on it! Or if it has pretty paint or handwriting. There’s this part of me that is in a season of feeling like its all piling up and I am entering this season of running away from that. It’s not that I don’t care it’s just my season for a break, for a pause! A pause with healthcare and my perks! Why can’t our Country run like Europe? Why can’t we take a whole month off? When I take off for a whole month I have to get creative. At former jobs it was like I, “quit”, and if there was room when I came back then I would slide right back into work life. Last year I just worked remotely and convinced my job I could keep up with my deliverables while we studied Spanish in Guatemala. A couple years ago I worked remote and supported me and the fam as we drove around the west. Then we got back to NOLA and I got laid off. Dammit!!! What am I about to do this summer??? I’ve been working even more lately and it seems like it’s not slowing down. You know the other thing? Someone ran into my car! My parked car!!! In front of our house. The very Car that took us from New Orleans to California. And I live in the most Northern Caribbean city, so nothing moves “Fast” here. So basically, I haven’t heard much of anything yet about the process of getting it repaired, paid out or anything like that. So driving around this summer is out of the question at the moment. And I have some plans and invites for the summer!!! Again-the adulting…it’s hard.

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There are some wins on the horizon! A couple Artful things that I am eager to be concrete before I can share them. Hopefully that will be a season of invigoration.

I would love to hear about what season you are in, or any and all of your plans that give you life that your looking forward to! No matter your season or our collective one. I pray that it becomes expansive.

The symbol of the Bull is closely connected to agriculture. A big grazing creature living off the land, tending to the land,-being tended to and providing life for mammals like us. A dependent symbol, living in close relationship to the land and to the life cycles of the Mother Earth. Cattle brings up the question of who domesticated who? Literally being the life force of villages to modern day farmers. The opposite of domesticated is going wild, and the Cow is also a fiercely protected animal in certain parts of the world, where they roam freely and their large existence is seen as sacred. Historically humans have always waded in the waters of other’s trying to keep them close, domesticated and home centered. But a Taurus that is able to roam wild and free is still grounded and solid. They are so sure of themselves, and Bull energy can be quiet and confident. They became domesticated with us, because they became a symbol of security. If you have a cow- you won’t go hungry! If you have a Taurus in your life, you have a home, essentially.

The Bull archetype connects us to that deep part of ourselves that is ancient and connected to the Earth. If anything the Earthly presence of the Bull gives us the permission to settle deep into ourselves, into our desires, to create, to birth and to live from there. It reminds us that our Earthly body is tethered to Mother Earth and to the interconnectedness to all bodies, beings that have ever come across Cow magic.

How are you working with the energy of this New Moon? How are you rooting? How are you creating? Lately i’ve been spending a lot of time pickling and fermenting. And this baby corn kimchi I made, I have been particularly proud of. That’s definitely something I didn’t see myself creating a few years ago. Remembering and re-learning ancient food-ways of survival is also right on point with re-wilding. So how are you re-wilding yourself? What medicine can you make? What seeds have you planted, what spells have you cast, that are destined to come into Fullness by the Full Moon? If you ever need help with that process, I am happy to share.

Happy New Moon, I hope to see you root and tend to your body and your little patch of Earth. Blessings!

I haven’t been writing on this platform for months. Not because I don’t want to, but because the cliche excuse-"Life has gotten in the way”. While the working, the momING, the partnering, and the community things were all in need of the attention I gave them. In some aspects maybe I gave more than I would have liked to give. More than I should. Even still, I found time for my own creativity. I carved out time to work on my creative projects and I think it paid off in a big way. Sometimes, my creative curiosities-took center stage.

So let’s back up. To - late August. When I decided that I was going to fill out the application and apply for The Giant Puppet Festival here in New Orleans. I am a new Puppet maker and my main experience is making Giant Puppets. I have made some sock puppets too and am leaning to wanting to learn shadow puppetry, however I am a novice. Around that time I also applied for two grants. One for Black puppeteers developing new works and one for general artist support. I didn’t think the festival would have said yes, but they did, and they really supported and believed in my vision to tell this old Southern Nigerian Folktale about a Fat Black Woman that is made of Butter that could melt away in the Sun. “Butter Woman”, which I am calling the 3rd known re-telling of this tale. The first being in the book, “Folk Stories of Southern Nigeria” collected by District Commissioner and Colonizer, Elphinstone Dayrell. Is entitled, “Of the Fat Woman who Melted Away”, a long with many other stories that have been told orally for hundreds of years, that he stole and continues to receive credit for. He compiled them into a book and toured them all around Europe like exotic art. Coincidentally many of the versions of stories he told had elements of the patriarchy, colonizing, abuse, and threats of throwing people into slavery. The second known telling was a short story my sister wrote inspired by Dayrell’s version, which was the first one I came across and fell in love with. Her version, “Miss Appropriate: Another take of Dayrell’s, ‘Of the Fat Woman that Melted Away,” stayed with me for years and I knew it was a play from the very beginning but something didn’t completely come through. Like I could see it, but couldn’t fully see it. Then I started to learn about Giant Puppet storytelling, puppetry storytelling all together, and did my first ever residency in Vermont at, Sable Project in the summer of 2024, that introduced me to so many fabulous artists, many using puppets to tell stories. With my theatre background and constant creative curiosities I came home to New Orleans and took a course in Giant Puppet making and made ‘Butter Woman’, for the 1st time, for the Giant Puppet Parade. The Giant Puppet Parade is open to the public during the festival. The way people interacted with her when I pranced her around for the first time, moved me completely. The dancing, mirroring, and curiosity had me all teary-eyed behind that 7ft tall puppet. I was a child again, a fairy again, creatively curious in a way that had been missing, and I was all in. I knew there was more to this story that had to be told. And so, when the opportunity presented itself to apply to have a full show in the festival I knew I had to apply. No matter how nervous I was. No matter all the “No’s” I’ve heard prior, no matter all of those “teachers” voices that still linger around in my head, and distorted images of worthiness, I knew one thing for sure. I knew this story in a way others don’t. I knew I had to birth it into the world and I finally knew it was a puppet show.

The metaphor of birthing is also a place to linger. I am a womb carrier after-all, and with that have this immense innate power to create and bring things earth side, to life! I haven’t always landed in this tangible, physical, really monumental way of birthing ideas. My womb, is a place that has held pain and shame. A place of traumatic births and a place of holding the remnants of sexual assault. But the rebirthing and the reinventing of ourselves has found me there too! It lets me know that I can make something out of scraps! Out of cardboard, out of paper, from my longing, out of my mind. Upcycled, wrinkled and molding and re-molding until the beauty, the life, the magic came through. Puppet making is cathartic like that.

After I got my acceptance letter, it became clear I needed to take this seriously and I had to do this story and these puppets some justice. So since the fall that’s what I’ve been doing as my main creative project and “Butter Woman” was birthed into the world during the festival and had 4 performance from April 9th-April 12th. Each Night was sold out, with lines wrapped around the corner and we allowed folks to come in and sit on the floor of the New Marigny Theatre in New Orleans. It was called the “Darling of the Festival” and folks are still stopping me on the street a few weeks later to talk about how much it meant to them. The cast, crew, artisans and more that helped create this with, are in-love with the project, and our hope is to do it again, a little more well funded, but nonetheless the puppets are made. I mean, I currently live with 5 life size puppets in my house and a fabulous faux Baobap tree taking up space in my living room and that makes me so pleased. So cozy and so activated. What’s next? I am intentionally dreaming.

»»»This is the Speech I wrote on the last night of the show. The last show was on 4/12/2026 and the moon was a Waning Crescent. Not only is that very Crescent City of this project but that is the phase the moon was in the day I was born. Birthing projects, Birthing Purpose, Birthing me …Giving thanks for the experience.

Butter Woman 4/12/2026 9:45pm (Ish)

Tonight is the last night. I have been creating this show in my mind for years and when I discovered my deep love for puppetry, I knew the medium in which it had to be told. Giant. Life size. Puppets!

Butter Woman

The 3rd known re-telling of a Southern Nigerian folktale brought back to its true origins. Based on my Sister’s short story, the second known re-telling “Miss Appropriate: Another take on Dayrell’s ‘Of the Fat Woman that Melts Away’”. Needed to be told and centered in a container of support, of ritual and of the oral traditions of Black Indigenous Storytelling. Stories that we have lost on this Continent that connect us deeply to lands we only know in our DNA. And so- it has stuck with me for 8 years! So I took her story adapted it to the stage, added some characters, a song, some dances and other fresh takes to make sure this puppet show is something that stays with you forever. Y’all have left crying, filled with joy and inspired. To have black people come to the theatre and for them to have never seen anything like this before and to have them tell me-that they feel inspired and want to make a puppet makes it all worth it. To have children of all races interact with us 7 ft tall puppets after the show, to have people stop me on the streets for the last few days all around New Orleans and recognize me as, “The Butter Woman has been all this was ever about.”

Plantainfutures named after the mighty weed plantain adds on to the environment, to the atmosphere, to the land. A cooperative, collaborative plant. Showing us how to work with and through things in the most difficult of soils. Through art, somatic practice, community organizing and creativity we ground ourselves in the practice of leaving something better than before!

With so much love and eternal gratitude I am forever grateful that you have decided to believe in this tale and ride it out! That you believe in puppets, magic, creativity, folklore and embodiment. That you trusted me to take you for a ride.

What a tender warmth I have felt this past week in the land of many tongues in Bvlbancha and we have now added even more magic, mystique and another story for this place to tell. We welcome you to our final showing during this festival and please take the story with you and tell it again and again. Tell the story of a Fat Black Butter Woman made of butter, being the object of many folks desires and someone worthy to be chased and how there is a mystery about her. Come and figure who the villain, if there is a villain or if these characters reflects folks complexities. Come and align yourself with spirit, with storytelling, live performance and collaboration. Collaboration is at the core of this project. And while many credits will go to me I am publicly stating that this could not have been done without the creativity and magic of others. And so with that I would like to acknowledge my sister Tuere Ganges that could not make it down here for this run. For her incredible writing and truth telling in her storytelling. For the visuals and sounds that she describes in story that allowed my imagination to travel so far that it brought something forth. I am grateful for your creativity. To Pandora and the Mudlark theatre, for being a place to let me keep exploring and keep creating and supporting my vision and saying to my application and giving such generous support in my questions and execution of making these puppets. To Ines who came into my life at the almost end of this project with their expertise in puppet making, movement, acting and artistry. You really helped these puppets walk and your attention to detail has made the last two weeks visually clear for all of us. I am so grateful when I asked Pandora if there was another black puppeteer around and she said yes, Ines, she played the Sun at the EOS Parade and I that I was already was fan, with short video of your performance on my phone. And here you are shining bright with us. Thank you so Deeply. To my cast, some of which have been rocking with me since first ask and some of which said yes when others left. You have added such unique perspectives to this story. When I was pooped out and couldn’t think of sound effects y’all were there. We’ve all gotten dirty in making puppets and crafting together and your energy and support has helped me carry on when some days felt overwhelming and dark. I am blessed to have known you in this moment in time and hope to stay in touch and keep creating with you.

Big thanks to friends, “Sukari Village” for the original music. Absolutely amazing.

To Golden Thread, for my Butter Woman outfit.

To Weenta for the Tree! You were down since day one to make this tree.

To Libby

James,

Emily,

My lover Desmond,

To Harper

Yahdi

Matt Matt

And more!

Thank y’all so much

New Marigny theatre thank you

Paul! Thank you for everything you do around here.

And for the love of puppets. What a medium to explore. Many many blessings.

If you want to see more photos or promo footage of this experience, please check out my IG, where things were unfolded in real time and are there as an archive of this experience. @plantainfutures

Some folks days are numbered short, some make it to the hundreds, and some folks days are spent behind bars, in holes, in cages and trafficked like Pocahontas and Sally. And some folks just watch the horror and some fight the horror and some are oblivious to the horror. Victims of individualism (worrying about the self, ready to sacrifice anyone or anything to protect the self) somehow on this planet, that is ever depleting; receive the same message. Earth holds us all—she must be vast. We are from it and of it. The good and the bad.

So what choices do we have? Many. Even Though they feel scarce. Asking yourself, “where do I get to be my fullest, safest, endless self?” is a start. These times are not asking us to hunker down, and to settle into our individuality. These times are not asking you to keep doing what you’ve been doing. These times are prompting us to think that the things that we’ve been doing aren’t working, so what’s the alternative??? That’s the creative brain coming to the collective frontal lobe. Or Earth’s surface. Our surface, because remember… we are from and of it. We are interdependent with each other, with this planet, these plants, these animals, this water, these practices, these songs, these moments-all of it. We rely on each other for a bunch of reasons, like the ones named above so we can’t act like my brother or sister that walks past me on the street doesn’t exist. We have to try another way to engage and relate to one another rather than ignoring each other, because that too is a choice. There’s endless possibilities out there, but if your listening to this creation called the binary then you would think that there are only two choices. RIght, wrong-good, bad and similar opposites. And our universe tells us there are many more and that there are new creations everyday. While drudging through the depths of your internal rolodex some would say there are answers when a person can access there individuation. When you develop a sense of self seperate from others. Carl Jung thought this happens more in the second half of a person’s life and defined it briefly as— when a person is identified as distinct from another. So coming into your own. Really knowing who you are and knowing how to be with others that also have that knowing is crucial to our collective survival. This doesn’t mean that self doubt doesn’t come into play, but that you are always striving for what you know, or following what you seek, knowing that there are possibilities for newness, stillness, togetherness, freedom! Which brings me to the question that is the title of a ever popular podcast, “How do We Survive the End of the World?”

I’d like to hear your answers about that. If you wanna share, than please do in whatever way you see fit. My initial answer, is like my answer for most things right now,— is one breath at a time. Where can the breath take us while everything we knew to be true is changing? How can breathing support dreaming, which supports creating, which helps us ideate and invent new realities? Ones we can’t even fathom as of yet. Meditation is a powerful tool, for revolution. Be it still or active it takes you somewhere else, somewhere you need to go. Or helps you move things that are in the way. And there is a call to answer to more somatic practice, more bodily practices, more ancient technologies of togetherness. Maybe just breathing together in community, eating in community and singing in community (as I did today) is a part of the great clearing that is happening for us all. Helping us to get out of our own way to remind us how to be with each other. Soon that may be all we have left. When your not busy worrying about yourself you can kindly make room to think about others. And brings us back to that interdependence that we are missing.

Let’s celebrate someone that passed this week that was also a real believer of “another way is possible”. Assata Shakur has passed and will forever be a Well Ancestor to all those that loved and encountered her, to those that read her story, to those that cherished her words, and to those fighting to be free. I’ve got the chance to read her autobiography this summer and her spirit and energy has been pulsating in me ever since. This woman was so clear, so sure of who she was and was unwavered by the violence and hateful energy that was surrounded her. Escaping a NJ State Prison in Clinton NJ, she was granted political asylum in 1979 in Cuba. Assata has always maintained her innocence and believed she would be free and died indeed a free Woman. If anything Assata taught us about the power of collective action, resistance, and revolution. Her life wasn’t easy and when she denounced her slave name she chose Assata (translates to the one who struggles) Olugbala (love for the people) and Shakur means (the thankful). We are better because of her and forever grateful for her teachings. She is now a guide for all of us seeking truth. “It is our duty to fight for our freedom. It is our duty to win,”— Assata Shakur.

Down below are my upcoming in person offerings. I am down to offer a virtual breathwork session if that’s something this small community would like to be a part of. I hope this resonated. Let’s stay connected. On IG @plantainfutures

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I’ve been saying “I’m proud of you” to myself lately. The positive phrase seems almost alien to me. Proud— of myself? Yeah! Proud for swimming almost daily, re-visiting group yoga practice, and for steering clear of freezing cold drinks. Proud of myself for leaning into relationships that deserve more intentional time. With people that have been reaching out to me and wanting to get to know me. I’ve been leaning towards them instead of the friends that make little digs at me, threaten me with ultimatums and constantly find ways to put me down and belittle me for sport. All my little heart has ever desired was to expand! To stretch across like a bridge. To be curious. Keep learning. Keep dreaming, Samille! Keep loving. And my time spent on swimming, is spent on loving and remembering, deeply.

This foreign phrase, ‘being proud,’ makes me question its origin. Is it Alien? Am I Alien? I’m sure we all are related to them. I am closer to being sure that we are in fact them—a piece of them, left over, then I have ever been before. Afterall, how do we explain our will to keep on going? Watching our world burn! Watching humans kill each other! How can we remain proud when we can clearly see our contributions to the destruction? Through plastic, through technology, through factory farming, through my single straw use as I am a germaphobe when it comes to putting my lips on public glasses. Shame, the opposite of pride, and sometimes— I. Sit. There!

Do aliens like water? Are they allergic or do they recharge in the depths of the ocean? I guess I would have to ask that to myself. Am I allergic, or apprehensive in water, to water, or does it recharge me? The relationship ebbs & flows. I have always been drawn to Aliens and always drawn to the water. (Blame it on my water placements) Back to me and my relationship to water. Growing up, it was my absolute favorite thing. To swim. More specific, swimming became a treat after a rough school year. And for me, they were all rough! Predominantly white, racist (don’t call them that) conservative, suspectual town. And I can say with 90% certainty, that I am almost sure, we were the only black family in the city proper that had a pool. So all summer long I would swim. Swim, swim, swim! Swimming to me, meant freedom, it meant I was off—off for the summer, off the hook, off into myself and deep into the water. I was oblivious to there being a problem being a chocolate, chubby, black girl, riding around Bordentown, NJ, in my bathing suit, on my bicycle with a popsicle in my hand, on my way to get pizza. I was so free in the summer,— no rules, no one to answer to, and it was like my family knew I needed this. To this day I do need it. A summer with no rules and no plans and every year as I have gotten older I allow my schedule to be as loose as possible in the summer. A true gift.

In the Summertime I also had the most friends! Odd. During the school year not so much. I was bullied, hated on and was the scapegoat for most things by teachers and students. I can’t say that behavior has let up any. It still finds me. My teachers hated me, I told them I knew why they hated me, cause I was black! I told them they had no other reason to hate me then what was going on in their minds. And when they would try to start and teach the history of me and the handful of other black students in class. With our origins beginning as as slaves in Amerika, I would correct their ignorant lessons with what my Mother told me. That we were Kings and Queens in Africa and that they took the best of the best to Amerika! That got me in even more trouble. Racist folks hate the truth too!

Then as I got older and more subconscious about my blooming body, my bigger body, my postpartum body, my fat body, it hasn’t always been easy to be in a bathing suit and be seen by others. I’ve shied away from it for a long time, but I am happy to say I am back. Crazy what getting older does to you, and what kind of confidence you exude living in hot climates. I’ve really enjoyed taking up as much space as possible in the water this summer. From lakes, to beaches, to natural springs and the pool. My morning pool ritual has been so divine. So much gratitude and pride to my body for doing what needed to be done. To move in gentle ways, and ways that are fun. Aliens seem strategic and calculating like my reconnection with water. A long time coming, a lot of stories and mythology around the lore, and then splash—proof of life. Fat bodies hitting the water. Of fat, brown, bodies and water. Even in my morning classes there’s a lot of black folks that are there but cannot swim. The water is something they can’t remember yet. That we are of and from this. And so many of our ancestors can be found on the ocean floor. Not because they couldn’t swim, because there was enough space for them in the water to expand and be free. Beautiful Alien creatures that left the motherland, that jumped off the mothership, kings and queens at the bottom of the ocean and all I am trying to keep doing is remain prideful and float.

Since April 30th, we have been without power at our rental in New Orleans. And even as a rental I consider this place our home. Having lived there for almost 4 years and planting plants that we wanted to look at everyday, painting the walls and fixing most things ourselves as our landlord is absent and always broke. It has become quite the fixer upper rental. To have our electric cut at the poll because Entergy (a vile, maniacal business that robs people every chance they get in Louisiana and I believe parts of Texas) accused us of stealing electricity has been the most sour and confusing thing that has randomly happened in the past few years. Up until that point we haven’t always paid on time but we have paid and a simple conversation could have possibly cleared up this problem. But no,—there was a huge financial demand, and more ground work that we started and our absent landlord had to come out of hiding to finish. Well-its not finished. No we are going on two months without electricity in a house that completely runs on electric. And after a lot of hotel stays and tears and fits of anger and money-nothing has changed. Supposedly progress has been made, but none that I can see nor confirm. I can confirm, however, that I am fighting this one and am prepared to fight long and hard against the Entergy succubus.

So what does one do when you have no lights, and the generator you have either powers the air conditioner or the hot water heater but not both? When your house is seemingly making the loudest noise on the block? And it’s getting hotter and hotter. Do you stay? No, not at all. After Harper’s last day of school and my Mother returning to Baltimore, we went on with our planned trip to Guatemala. As I am writing this we are still in Guatemala. Since about late February we have planned as a family to join two other families and their kids to venture into the Mountain town and second largest city in Guatemala, Xela! On the map it is called Quetzaltenango but the locals affionately call it Xela! This city holds so many language schools. In fact, I learned that Guatemala and Peru are the two top places in the world to go to a physcial school and learn Spanish. And from our friend and main trip organizer, Sara’s recommendation we all enrolled in Proyecto de Linguistica Xela. The beauty, the magic and the draw about this school versus others is its political education and social justice education that is intertwined in this school. I guess that’s why even after we leave there at least 4 more people from New Orleans coming in the next few months. They are in for a treat. Its world renowned and we met so many rad people from around the world that wanted to deepen their spanish understanding so they can travel deeper. In fact the day that I had a conversation with my teacher about the transatlantic slave trade I got a little teary eyed. Maestra Alma, was the perfect teacher for me. We talked extensively about art, literature, authors, poems and songs. She introduced me to one song I found particularly beautiful called, Luna De Xelaju, that I sang at our graduation in spanish and accapella. A song about the moon shining every so brightly over Xela. And holding the people of this beautiful town in so much care as they cry and as she wanes. Breakthroughs were made because I was learning about things I wanted to learn. Conversations already on the tip of my tongue and things I am already curious about, I got to communicate in. Then of course there were talks from Uber drivers to the teachers at the school about Trump and the tensions between ICE and protestors heating up for all the world to see, that also became the topic of many of our conversations. I seriously can’t be more grateful for the time spent there and plan to be back soon. I am not done! My conversational Spanish is better but still has a long way to go, but a vast improvement has been made in me and Desmond. Desmond who started from zero and me that wanted to get better. Wow! And now I am more determined than ever to keep studying and keep talking. Harper also was in on all the fun. Her and my friends daughter were busy in class all day with two amazing teachers. We loved on them with hugs, thank you’s and gifts before we left.

We also spent some time in Panajachel, next to 3 beautiful Volcanoes and in and out of Mayan villages where spanish was hardly spoken. As an added activity from our school we got to visit this Mayan Pueblo, Cajola. Which is a community run by the indigenous people. There were many guerilla fighters in the war in the 90’s. And one of our teachers use to be one of those fighters. He now identifies as a teacher and a activist. There we got to go to one of many weaving cooperatives you can find in this part of the country. Where women sell their textiles to tourists and in a big store in Morristown, NJ. Which of course made me chuckle.

Prior to landing in Guatemala, we spent a week in the caribbean, in Puerto Morelos, Mexico. Also, planned. But what wasn’t planned was upon our exit on May 24th to arrive in Guatemala from Mexico, I was denied entry because of a rip in my very old passport. We were in shock! Having places to be and wanting to honor our commitments. With haste, we took the new Tren Maya to Merida to go to the US Embassy to see about getting me a new passport. We realized that on Monday it was memorial day and quickly melted again, knowing that was not going to be a reality. However, a friend of mine from New Orleans has been living in Merida and we got to spend some time with her which was so nice. It’s great seeing a familiar face when travelling. I got an appointment at the passport office in New Orleans. So I quickly went back to cancun to get on a flight (the only place I could fly was back to my country) and got an appointment at the passport office on Tuesday the day after Memorial Day and got my passport in one day. I then came back to join my family in Cancun and off to Ciudad de Guate. Unfortunately, the way that we entered Guatemala is the way we are leaving. In a hurry, in disarray. We are experiencing a life changing family emergency and are flying to NJ tonight directly. Asking for prayers and a lots of love.

Us in Mexico, where we met the caribbean ocean again

The Moon in Xela Tuesday Night 6/10/2025

So that’s how I am relating to the Sagittarius, Strawberry Full Moon. The softness of its nourishment and its passion, is represented by the color pink. The anger, strength and mourning that red can symbolize. And this torrid adventure we’ve been on. Illuminating our own limitations. In language barriers, in familiarity, in patience, in other peoples timing and rules. Sag’s don’t like rules, and neither does Samille. They can be presented as limitations as you move a long on your journey. And as much as you’ve seen videos of grown ass adults having temper-tantrums in the airport, you can’t do that. No as much as I want to, I can’t do that. Maybe it would be perceived differently from person to person. And it’s definitely not going to make anyone move any faster in a way that you want. Like Maestra Alma would say, “despacio pero seguiro.” Slowly but Surely. 🙏🏾 🙏🏾 🙏🏾

I am coming out of a deep introspective season myself. Where I treated myself rotten—because i was rotting, or at least I believed that I was rotten fruit. I didn’t recognize myself as fruit settling into the compost. Perception is everything. See I was hurt, broken hearted, and really wanting so deeply to be disengaged. However, the truth of my beauty and brilliance is to be in close, deep connection, — so we carried on. There’s a special dance there. How do we take time for our own refuge and healing, — our root? When our branches are grazing other trees. Is it in our turnout? In the leaps? I can’t say that this season has brought anymore clarity in my pirouettes. Even though I think I am maintaining the same spot on the wall, the momentum of the spin,(spinning, spinning) even with precision, effects how I stick my landing. Like teacher’s before, like other friend’s that don’t understand how you get off in believing in yourself, unfortunately it makes you so dizzy. Perhaps it’s coming in another season or two. Interwoven into the veins of another chrysalis. So I took my bow, chin up and smiled at those that have over pruned my essence.

My dedication to my creativity and creative practice has been tested. Understanding that powerful things are done in groups of 3 or more is revolutionary work. That even as a solo artist, there is collaboration. In the sound guy, the producer, the venue. The truth is we are all not healed from group tragedies, there is a lot of pain and injury there. We also have trouble getting out of our own way, or only desire to hear our own voice bounce off the backs and heads of the people we are talking to. This all may detour our vision. Collective or not these obstacles are meant to be handled by more than one. We find this time and time again as artists. It is par for the course. And each time there is a lesson. Something to learn. And each time it hurts, drudging up feelings of self-worth, of worry, of your personhood, talent, individuality and more. For me it challenged my politics. It became very clear that I NEEDED to be more transparent with my beliefs and the core of who I was. Even when you think you are being clear. It may be time for a closer look. And no matter how kind you think you are, or selfless or hospitable — clarity is vastly important, and that there are multiple stories and realities happening at once. It can’t be done in silence. We need the reflection. Let’s pray it’s healthy.

I’ve been deep into my tarot practice this year. After arriving in the Hermit year, I decided it was finally time to dive deep into this ancient technology. When the 3 of cups became presented to me in a reading around the time I was looking for some guidance it stuck out like a sore thumb. I have devoted time and creative energy into several creative groups in the past year that didn’t last very long. That was part of the heartbreak. And-I think for all gifted people it becomes a moment to keep your art close to your heart and to rethink how you share your brilliance. For a crab, it certainly becomes a moment to retreat. But the 3 of cups! The 3 of cups, as it was presented in the Queer Tarot Deck shows 3 colorful people having a good time. And I couldn’t get it out of my mind. What did it mean? I knew what it meant during the reading I had but the power of 3’s stayed with me! In my Breathwork Practice, that anchor’s into a rhythm of 3’s, it becomes an opening. The breath is also grounding. Primordial, and the patterned breath of birthing people before their offspring comes Earth side. Again the power of 3’s stayed with me! The Sun, Moon, and the Stars. Past, Present and Future. Mind, Body and Spirit. ME, MYSELF & I!!!! It consumed me. And through my research of Rachel Pollack, Lindsey Mack, & Nyasha Williams I found that the 3’s are the bridge. They help you access magic and supports you in difficult times. DAMN! This card! This time in my life. Creating with others, you know—branches touching branches. Conflict rising. Is the bridge. I got that card to lean into the space where the pain and disruption happened. The 3’s are the space before you know whats ahead of you and after you have left something else behind. The 3 of cups also represent the abundant flow of community and deep loving relationships. It has taken me time to see this. To know that there is deep love with those I have had conflict with is not a concept I hold at the forefront of my mind. Not innately. Because of past experiences. In theory yes. In movement work—sure! And there have been so many “bridges” burnt or not rebuilt, because of one incident and grace not being given to the essence, to the beauty, to the brilliance of each other. Conclusions were made and drawn—from all sides, & the bridge was not completely reconnected. —But the space! The space has been glorious and a real opportunity to take some much needed deep breaths, and to have a deep reconnecting with self, with creativity, with life force, with ME, MYSELF & I, that was necessary. I have been paying close attention to how Spirit moves. Slowly and whimsically. And while we may want answers right then and there, that’s not how Spirit works. And of course there are many things that we will Never receive answer’s to. Not just the secrets of life. But the secrets that your friends hold. Secrets that your comrades keep. Secrets that the world reveals in the shadows. But if the cups are flowing and the love is loving, then stay on that bridge. Take a deep breath, maybe 3.

Peace everyone, it’s been a long time. It’s been a heavy time. My heart is heavy nowadays. As I am sure your’s is. How do we carry on with business as usual with all of this collective grief? How do I give a 2023 year end review montage when so many others can’t fathom that luxury. I could not. I still struggle daily with how to move and interact, and show up, and what to say. Where to spend my little dollars. Pondering how can my little dollars make a difference by taking them off of the grid as much as possible. To just jump back on the grid a week later when I need something—like delivered, —like tomorrow. Then feeling the guilt knowing I’m supporting monsters that aren’t thinking about supporting me or anyone or anything I love. These big corporations ran by men not connected to the global majority that prey on our dependence to this life of convenience. I am ready for my off-grid intentional community. If you are or have tips I am all ears.

I’m leaning into unlearning. And have been on this journey for a quite some time. But more. I need to lean in to the lap of de-colonization. While unschooling Harper, especially the first few years. I hung onto every word the Sister Akilah Richards said. Akilah is the most prominent black voice in self-directed education. And would embrace the constant asking of questions. She used the phrase “mad question asking” as an ode to the journey to self discovery. Or to re-discover. Or to re-claim. To remember. It helped to shape thousands of black parents on this journey. A journey that refuses to accept the prescribed parameters of the educational system. A system that has left so many of our children sour and scarred. That has labeled our children before they got a chance to pick out their favorite color. Creating folders and files on black children. Documents. Records. Reminiscent of a past plagued with paper work or the lack their of that could determine your outcome of coming and going and so much more harm. Unschooling provides new ways to engage in this big fascinating world. A world that was not designed with us in mind. A world that is just waiting for us to evolve and mature like the oldest, wisest if Tree’s. I have so much I need to detach from. Not just material possessions or material dependencies. But ideas—notions, other people’s views of me, other people’s views on demographics of people, capitalism, language, vices, negative self talk, colonialism. Colonialism!!! That right there is something that keeps me up at night. That keeps me connecting the mother fucking dots! As an actor and musician, you are taught to observe patterns. Shit as an actor you are taught to keenly observe patterns in yourself! How could you possibly take on a roll of a Queen if everyday you are committed to BEING a starving artist? I mean do they even walk the same? The answer is NO! More than likely not! But as a starving artist, every-time we get a big break, or sell a painting we walk with our heads held a little higher. And right there, there is this “air” about you, that you’re looking for, if you will. You can use that to catch a glimpse of a Queen’s pattern. A glimpse of their quirks and idiosyncrasies. Colonialism has that too! It is a pattern. No—a system. A system based on following these patterns. Patterns of harm, of conquering, of lying, of propaganda, of violence, of erasure, of making the victims the villain. Maybe thats why artist and healers and empathetic people can see it and others can’t? Cause we were advised to always look at patterns. Or because we are Shamans. Designed to hold what others cannot. I don’t know why others decide not to see. Not to see the creative being in themselves that surely would offer more space. More opportunities. Why do others straddle the fence on issues that are inhumane?— I do not know. Even though those people are surely me. And I am surely them. I have been them. I think we know each other better than we think.

So this brings me to this offering that is long over due. Below is an audio created with me and friend’s, fellow artist’s that I would call activist’s- although I don’t know what they call themselves. Khalil on drums, Anna recording and adding some vocals and we bring you Breathwork for Creativity. When sitting down to listen to this. You could just sit and breathe in whatever way feels comfortable to you, or you can take a deep breath in and expand your belly and then take a deep breath in and expand your heart space and then out from your mouth. And please fine your rhythm. It doesn’t have to be fast or slow, but it does have to be consistent. If that isn’t what your feeling then please smoke a blunt and listen and vibe. Or listen on a drive or however you see fit.

Thanks for being patient and still reading. And much love to you on your journey in making community wherever you are. For remembering your culture and recognizing other cultures as sacred. More “WE” please! Free us all.

I’m leaning into unlearning. And have been on this journey for a quite some time. But more. I need to lean in to the lap of de-colonization. While unschooling Harper, especially the first few years. I hung onto every word the Sister Akilah Richards said. Akilah is the most prominent black voice in self-directed education. And would embrace the constant asking of questions. She used the phrase “mad question asking” as an ode to the journey to self discovery. Or to re-discover. Or to re-claim. To remember. It helped to shape thousands of black parents on this journey. A journey that refuses to accept the prescribed parameters of the educational system. A system that has left so many of our children sour and scarred. That has labeled our children before they got a chance to pick out their favorite color. Creating folders and files on black children. Documents. Records. Reminiscent of a past plagued with paper work or the lack their of that could determine your outcome of coming and going and so much more harm. Unschooling provides new ways to engage in this big fascinating world. A world that was not designed with us in mind. A world that is just waiting for us to evolve and mature like the oldest, wisest if Tree’s. I have so much I need to detach from. Not just material possessions or material dependencies. But ideas—notions, other people’s views of me, other people’s views on demographics of people, capitalism, language, vices, negative self talk, colonialism. Colonialism!!! That right there is something that keeps me up at night. That keeps me connecting the mother fucking dots! As an actor and musician, you are taught to observe patterns. Shit as an actor you are taught to keenly observe patterns in yourself! How could you possibly take on a roll of a Queen if everyday you are committed to BEING a starving artist? I mean do they even walk the same? The answer is NO! More than likely not! But as a starving artist, every-time we get a big break, or sell a painting we walk with our heads held a little higher. And right there, there is this “air” about you if you will. You can use that to catch a glimpse of a Queen’s pattern. A glimpse of their quirks and idiosyncrasies. Colonialism has that too! It is a pattern. No—a system. A system based on following these patterns. Patterns of harm, of conquering, of lying, of propaganda, of violence, of erasure, of making the victims the villain. Maybe thats why artist and healers and empathetic people can see it and others can’t? Cause we were advised to always look at patterns. Or because we are Shamans. Designed to hold what others cannot. I don’t know why others decide not to see. Why others straddle the fence on issues that are inhumane,— I do not know. Even though those people are surely me. And I am surely them. I have been them. I think we know each other better than we think.

I got to be apart of a beautiful project at Re-circulating Farms here in New Orleans. Entitled, “It gets Darker”. I wrote a piece for it called The Glitch. It is for our collective questioning. For our collective harm and hate. An ode to Akilah, to Prince, to Ntosake, to Alexis and to hip hop. For the memory of my Father, for our pain, to my ancestor’s I never met but feel and to my body. A body that triggers and alarms. But creates and wades and takes up space. Even when it wants to fall in the background. It is a place for my grief to show up. For it to be witnessed. It is for me and all I carry to be held and witnessed and heard. I cried for days after. What a release. What a sharing. How it came to me is a longer and more intense story. There will be a screening of this event in late March. Pushing for March 31st, here in New Orleans.

Thanks for being patient and still reading. And much love to you on your journey in making community wherever you are. For remembering your culture and recognizing other cultures as sacred. More “WE” please! Free us all.

This link is for those that have access to it.

What do you do when you feel incredibly hopeless? I really want to know what do you do? Numb? Cry? Self-destruct? Pick Fights? Cut? Walk? Run? Pick up an old habit? Pray? Go to Church? Finally go to that Ashram? Finally cut your hair? Talk to your Ex? I don’t know, all of those things are possible right now, because they can be—when I feel hopeless at least. I could be in such a deep, crooked area in myself that it’s hard to fit and harder to find my way out.

I, like so many other humans around the world are at the mountaintop screaming, crying, maybe ready to jump, because of the immoral atrocities we are witnessing against our own human race on our planet. While the media plays coy and our politicians lose their hearing, we empaths feel!!! We feel so much, we sometimes become paralyzed in the depths of sorrow and anger. We understand, we throughstand, our interconnectedness with people we have never met. Will never meet. And even with our knowing we are losing hope. We do not speak the same language. We may not pray to the same God and to fathom that some of this is about carrying out horrors in the name of sacred texts is daunting. How can any of this death give us status in the afterlife? I am not playing neutral. I am for the Liberation of all people. I am always on the side of the oppressed. I am always on the side of brown and black people. The most policed and most feared. Free Palestine! Free the Congo! Give the Land back to black and indigenous folks on turtle island. Remove the colonial stronghold on your so called colonies. Let generational healing begin. Allow us all to taste what true Liberation feels like. I am not here to argue or to listen to your reasonings concocted by the 1% that rules our media, newspapers and our minds. For I have already had the most important heated debate. I had THE argument with my Mother. I was surprised to have that disagreement with her. I surely thought we believed in the same thing, so I did have a serious moment of feeling disempowered. A woman—My Woman, MY MOTHER, that went out of her way to talk to me about The Black Panthers and black culture. Praising Nikki Giovani as a Goddess and James and Angela as (s)heroes and considered herself an activist at one point. Told me that Israel has a right to defend themselves. Let’s say yes! Then they have by now—Killing thousands. She, like my baby boomer Obama/Clinton loving cousin’s and so many liberals that went so far left that it starts to look right. This very demographic, also seem to get their information from one source. My Mother spitting propaganda to me about how they’re “cells underground” and that Hamas are “really Iraqi’s” (islamophobia) bringing up the old saying “All’s fair in love and war”. Which is a colonial tactic to justify the raping, pillaging, and murder of the innocent. It clears the oppressor’s conscious with slogans like this to bleach their behavior. And then there’s me! Crying at the top of my lungs to her exclaiming, “It is always about LAND!!!!” And it is! Make no mistake. Ask the indigenous people that have survived all erasure. To the black people mining their own land in the Congo right now, so that we all have the smartest of devices in the palms of our hands. They have the true story. And me shaking, screaming and crying to my beloved Mother feels so much like that Mountaintop. I am at the peak. I have peaked. And even with all of that, all of that emotional labor, and deep feeling, and me doing the listening and doing the research and counterclaiming her—it really didn’t change much! Or did it? Shaking like that. Lumps in my stomach, lumps in my throat. Thoughts like, “maybe I’m wrong” and feelings of intense hopelessness. It illuminated in me that I am holding a lot of generational and land related grief. I didn’t realize how deep those realizations between human beings and Mother Earth have effected me and disrupted the parts of me, clinging to what I use to believe to be true. I know we were put here to be land stewards, and to create beauty and cultivate relationships with the short amount of time we have here. Still, greed and corruption makes this world turn. Consuming and numbing through “good times” is what keeps the everyday person despondent and makes us avoid any real interactions especially with conflict. I called my Mother 20 minutes before midnight my time to make amends. It was already past midnight where she lives. She answered chipper and warm. I told her “I am sorry for yelling, but I stand by every word I said, and of course I love you forever, but I couldn’t go to sleep like that.” She said, “Samille, I am not thinking about you yelling at me, you didn’t have to call to apologize for that. I didn’t know you were paying attention to the news, and to what’s going on in the world and I didn’t realize you were so passionate. It’s good to be passionate, it means you stand for something. If you don’t stand for something you’ll fall for anything.” She went on to tell me, that I am “wrong” but she understands that maybe she’s “wrong” and only time will tell. Now that’s my girl. That’s MY FUCKING MOM BABY!!!! I am so thankful for this relationship. I felt seen and heard again. I took an exhale, wiped a tear from my eye and attached quickly to another colonial phrase. My Mom and I just “agreed to disagree”, which is also quite harmful. Yet somehow in our modern colonial times,—In what many believe is LATE STAGE CAPITALISM— is what we all use to get through from one patriarchal system to the next. This known but not known neutrality is the very fabric of American culture. It is how many of us have survived in this oppressive land for generations. The artist are here to live in between the lines of the status quo. And in this moment in time please know that when I’m talking about artists I am also talking about Organizers and Activists.

“Art is the entry point, it’s not the end.” MARSHALL SHORTS, OHIO ORGANIZING COLLABORATIVE

JVPNOLA

What a beautiful place for artists to live and quite possibly what many dream about; beyond winning their cherished statues. A chance to create something of meaning. Where Art meets activism is a powerful sphere. This quote has entered my stratosphere in the last month or more, and maybe you too have seen it on the interwebs. Of course when you want to find it again, to cite where the quote comes from, it’s no where to be found. But the gist of the quote is ‘All artist yearn to create the thing that stops the death’. Accurate. Art is this timeless vehicle that is used to send a message. And should be leaned on in times of despair. Being utilized again as the voice of movements. As artists, as people, we have to get out of our own way and step out of our ego and CREATE THE THING THAT STOPS THE DEATH! The protest art that I have seen has kept me going. The organizing with movement and song evoking affirmations of change. What has started small has turned mighty. And world wide there are freedom riders protesting in beautiful colors of red, green.white and black. If you have been feeling hopeless there are a variety of ways to connect. There are so many ways to feel purposeful right now, while our brothers and sisters are dying by the thousands. I’ve really been enjoying the teach-ins here in NOLA by Jewish Voices for Peace the NOLA chapter. It has kept me informed, grounded and has provided communal grief and processing in a way I have never witnessed before. And I’m just so proud and honored to know so many young organizers holding space in the name of freedom here in New Orleans. I encourage you to go to one of your local chapter’s teach-ins if you don’t know where to start. Then there’s Mother— Adrienne Maree Brown. She has been so pivotal in posting solutions and interviewing organizers as well as sharing songs of peace or spells if you will, and she does—- that she has casted for the collective to sing and use to heal while marching. Showing us how another way to use your power, status, and platform for the greater good and for it not to be self-serving. Also, I’ve really been enjoying the IG account @holistic_resistance a black-led facilitation and healing consulting business, founded by the brother Aaron Johnson. I shared a song that he and his group sang online. They sing and create songs of collective grief. The song is called “Hold your Fire”. How perfect. I offered it myself here in NOLA not too long ago in a community space. What can be learned from these Artists, Activists, Organizers and Social Justice workers is that you can take your hopelessness and turn it into an instrument of change. Performance art, street art and all political art is art that is not in the finest galleries in the world and not at the MET per-se. It is accessible and affordable. You can literally get a poster board, or cardboard and some markers and go to town creating a slogan or an image that can be seen and imitated around the world. Or if you have more skills and some spray cans you can create a mural that can be seen for miles throughout your city. One that is controversial and one that you most likely wouldn’t get commissioned to create. I think it is also a way of putting the power back into the hands of the people. Think of the black fist that was first seen in the middle 1930’s during the Spanish Civil war but became popular in the 1960’s after it was simplified by the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee. It was later the image of the black power movement and is used currently with the Black Lives Matter Movement. In black communities we know it to mean “Power to the People.”

So instead of meandering around thinking how you have nothing to offer, why not create instead? What if you turn to creativity and activity when you feel levels of despair? You already have the insight to know you should probably lean on a creative practice to get you through and Not call your ex!

All of this standing in your conviction leads me to tomorrow’s full moon. This Gemini Full Moon is all about activating your voice and not playing it small. It’s about taking up space as you are, and getting your ideas off the ground. It’s a great time to move forward in community or a group. If your offering can help others in your community then please share it, for it may be a beautiful time to collaborate. Clear your space and create the time and space to create and play and be in your body and be you! We are coming out of the underworld of scorpio season and now entering into the fire of Sagittarius. Sagittarius knows exactly who they are and what they want in life and what they have to offer. While our Moon is in Gemini—a powerful Air sign, do not be fooled. Air signs get a bad rap for being flighty but being that the element of air allows them to live in their head, when they are head strong they make moves happen quickly. The moon in gemini, supported by the fire of Sagittarius can spread like a wild fire. Who are you? What do you believe in? Is hope an option? Can you share it? Can you live it? This time can propel things into the Universe.

So please create that thing from deep down inside of you to stop the death. Maybe together if we share it at the same time there can be a huge shift. With love, Samille

Peace everybody, It’s been a pretty heavy last couple of weeks since we’ve last connected here. There is a lot going on in the world collectively. My heart goes out to the children that have lost their lives, the people that seek liberation and a prayer for sight for those that can’t see.

Below is an essay on Grief I wrote a few years ago when I was in my Breathwork training. I figured it would be nice to leave it here today. Tonight at 7:30 CST I will be holding my annual virtual Breathwork for Grief class. If you would like to sign up you can email me at plantainfutures@gmail.com. It is sliding scale from $20-$50. Venmo accepted under @plantainfutures . I hope the article touches your heart and that you find time to address your grief or any collective grief before our Full Moon in Taurus that can be quite stubborn along with our lunar eclipse. This eclipse happens during the time of the year when the nights get dark sooner. More darkness isn’t necessarily bad. There is way more time to rest and recharge. Doing what is called shadow work at this time is potent medicine. Medicine that comes from you and lays stagnant in the shadows. If anything it’s a great time to be quiet and breathe.

This Full Moon is named the Hunter Moon, and there is of course this obvious outlook that first peoples where hunting and gathering now for winter. But there is also a take thats asks us to look at the energy of the Hunter Moon, as an energy of waiting, listening and precision. Hunting is not fast. Our current and western relationship with animals is. They are raised on high performance animal feed and we bring them into a slaughter house and pretty quickly end their life and through other protocol it ends up on the shelves of your local supermarket. Hunting tho, is a relationship with the natural elements and your prey. How do you move when it’s foggy? When it’s clear skies? Is it better to kill at the crack of dawn verses late at night? Is the Hunter waiting for a crunch in the leaves to see his deer, or are they waiting to hear that same leaf crunch to make sure another predator like a Mountain Lion isn’t hunting him? The circle of life is poignant like that. That we the Hunter can be hunted. And there is a lot of intense listening that happens there. Then, there’s the possibility of you have one shot with your bow and arrow. One time to get it right. And most hunters are woodsman and nature woman. They do not want the animal to suffer, so being precise is vastly important. The Hunter Moon also reminds us to go for what we want. Our target is not too far away, and taking the proper steps will secure a successful outcome in our goal. This Full Moon is also called fondly the Traveling Moon. It is of course that time of year that ancient people, just like many modern folk. Flee cold weather places in the pursuit to find a warmer more vegetative abundant environment. Think of Canadians and their love of Florida and Mexico this time of year. Yesterday I held a Lunar Astronomy Circle for kids which is what I do monthly in New Orleans. There is a picture below of the children making a moondala offering to the beautiful celestial guide that so many worship.

Grief

Grief If there is one aspect of the human experience that is riddled with complexity and depth. Making our erect upright skeletal frames drop to our knees. While we are down there we dig and bury, consumed with our many unknowings, very sure that we do not know the phrase “This too shall pass.” This reaper of contentment is grief. Grief is something I am familiar with. I can’t say I know it because it’s hard to know something you can’t fully understand. Tho, I have experienced loss, in the form of jobs, passed lovers, ex-friends and dreams not fully brought to fruition. Nothing hurts more than the pain of losing another human being you have been close to. And I have lost friends, classmates, grandparents that have lived full lives, and deserve to be celebrated. Finally they’re in no more pain. Yet, nothing has ever hurt as deeply and has thrown me down a well of despair like losing my beloved Father on August 14th 2019. Our relationship was complicated. It pretty much was the relationship that dictated how I’ve interacted with every man up to my current partner. And as painful as it was, as misunderstood both of us were to one another there was nothing we wouldn’t do for each other. We both wanted the other one to see us as actualized human beings. Sharing the same DNA it’s no surprise we were so much alike. Incredibly sensitive, moody water signs, that were misunderstood, angry, self-destructive and harsh critics of one another. You would think with so many negatives there would be a sense of relief, but no! There was so much guilt. There’s so much unresolved sadness and anger that I’m still dealing with. I think for me it was how he died. Where he died and when he died. Two days after a huge fight we had. Two days after I said I would “NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN”. And that you’ll “NEVER SEE HARPER AGAIN!” My Father then transitioned, and I was spirling. First outward, to the point I thought I was losing my mind. Like I was constantly floating but fast and ready to explode. Then I felt a strong deep need to go inward. I discovered Breathwork around this time, by stumbly upon the “Living Open” podcast by Eryn Johnson. I couldn’t get enough of these conversations. Then Eryn said they were going to hold a Breathwork session. I was so intrigued because she talked about it on her show so often. I convinced my friend to sign up with me. And from the comfort of our own homes, we did Breathwork over zoom for the first time. I have never experienced a sense of quiet like that, not in months. I found stillness-in ME! Boy was that different. And I could sleep again! So I did the right thing and chased what made me feel good. I kept signing up for Breathwork from Eryn. By now I was already a member of Eryn’s patreon and trying to navigate this new world of online healers. Then one day she interviewed a black female practitioner named Chauna. It was different when I heard Chauna. Chauna wasn’t all “woo”, she seemed to be a lot like me. Black, Queer, raised in the church and wasn’t settled on that. She carved her own path. She seemed very present in a way. Possibly hard to explain. But I wasn’t listening to a Witch or a Warlock, or a shapeshifter ( all of which was so new to me at the time, tho I may feel differently now ) . They were just a relatable person that just so happened to teach Breathwork and wanted to make it more diverse. So I signed up for one of their online classes too! I dm’d Eryn inquiring about learning more about Breathwork but specifically from a BIPOC person. They told me about the training Chauna was going to do. I applied and got in. During the months we spent together, all virtual if I may add. We learned how to identify our own feelings. Getting acquainted with different healing modalities or techniques to help us regulate and get back into our body. We learned about equity, we learned about anger, we got tips on how to let what came up in Breathwork Integrate and we ultimately learned how to hold space. We didn’t just learn how to hold space for others but also for ourselves. Which was a massive game changer for me. I leaned into what I needed to get into my body so that I could hold space for my clients. I have now met grief head on in so many ways. By naming my body pain, by seeing it mirrored to me from strangers in the circles I tend to, by receiving downloads while we all breathe together. I think having the tools from the Breath Liberation Society which I am proud to say I am part of helps me Set containers, intentions, listening and not imposing my own shit in shared spaces. All of that has been so incredibly valuable. And not just in Breathwork, but with everything. I have since told folks “Thank you for letting me witness you and for putting faith in this container”. All very potent medicine and I don’t know if I would have had those words without this experience. And of course it all helps me process my grief. Which has gotten lighter. And the most beautiful thing and perhaps a little “woo” or “erie” is when I am doing Breathwork, while I am dreaming while I am awake, I see my Dad! And the fact that I can see him and when I am done I can still feel his presence is the most powerful thing for me. Feeling that energy shift and releasing has been such a powerful thing. I like to think I bring all that with me in practice with my clients. Grief, to end this, is a powerful emotion that can spark real change, growth and movement. It can be an agent of recalibrating. So much gratitude for grief.

We are back in New Orleans, I know a big shift from the goals of a couple of weeks ago and honestly I wish we would have stayed the course and dug deep and didn’t listen and take advice outside of our little family. It was of course, Harper’s idea…No, her cry! To return to Bulbancha (New Orleans) to reconnect with what she knows for sure. I saw that need in her, Desmond did too and of course we wanted to give that to her. She has lived here since she was 4, she tells me herself, she “knows it like the back of her hand”. And she was so excited to arrive back into her big little city. As we were driving around NOLA she said, “Omg, I remember that”, and “this looks different”, and “I love their pizza”, to “do you think they remember me?” My reply was, “Yes! I think so!” That was followed with a thousand kisses, and thank you’s and her telling me I was “the best Mommy in the world.” Towards the end of the trip she started to seem unhappy and was really missing her friends and familiarity. To re-introduce us again through our Sun signs, Desmond and I are water signs. Him a pisces and me a cancer. Our baby Harper is a fixed earth sign, a Taurus. And not just because she’s a child but because I think a big part of her personality is routine and rhythm. While Desmond and I can go with the flow. (Although I am becoming more in tune to life’s comforts and go back and forth about what I want and how I want to live often, I think it’s my Gemini Moon)

So I did what any Mother re-entering society would do, I drained my savings and got us housing without seeing it and trusting a realtor friend about where I should sign on the dotted line. And it’s not her fault, it was my fault, thinking we needed this. That we needed to be stable and we need to provide in the ways that people are stable and provide in. I was re-entering and drinking the kool-aid of what I thought would be best. Instead of trusting that New Orleans would provide for us, as she had many times before. But my rushing, —my true self constantly being stuck between worlds, made me jump and now has dug deep regret. And I now have a lease in my name to a place I hate and would never spend $1500 a month on to live. And a new place that is “ok”! It doesn’t sound that permanent does it? It’s temporary— like life itself. My Mother has always said that and still does now. That slogan should be engraved on my beautiful body. As a constant reminder of her maternal wisdom that escapes me in times of desperation. Like housing. “It’s only Temporary”, is what she always exclaims. And this feels like that.

Frankly, I have always felt in between worlds. I grew up in a predominantly white town in South Jersey’s suburbs that left little room for black kids to be weird and strange. I felt racism before I knew what it was, knowing that people didn’t like me for no reason other than I was completely different from them. And if it wasn’t that, then it was I made them nervous, I challenged them, I wasn’t following along with the oppressive shit that happened in our school system and in the two block hood where most of the black residents lived in our town. And of course my Mother blasted Nikki Giovanni records on the weekend. As I remember Nikki declared loudly that we were Kings and Queens in Africa! And architects, and artists, and doctors, and…brilliant. Not just “slaves”. Which was how my black beginning was introduced to me when I was in about fourth grade. Learning about this great country and how I fit into it. I challenged teacher’s then, raising my hand and telling them the truth about our inception. I was ostracized. I was bad, and I internalized that and went through crazy identity crisis in that town. That’s one example. there are many that will be revealed over time.

Now, I have seen other parts of this Country. Cities that work! People that take care of the properties they own. Places that care and people that tend to the environment and put things into Law to make sure they are upheld. New Orleans is so far behind with that. We don’t recycle as a city. Our trash men & women are not paid by the city, they are independent contractors and change quite often. Everything goes into our water and then we fish and sell it and it’s all back inside of us, as we digest it all. It’s a cycle. It is a state that still sides with the “Master” if you own your house the law bends in your favor. You can make your own rules as a homeowner it seems. And the city’s sinking infrastructure is used as an excuse for dwellings, roads and our poor energy system. All of this has caused deep, deep sadness in me since my return. There is so much beauty, there is so much to celebrate and there is so much that needs great attention to ensure a greater quality of life for the people that have been here generationally for hundreds of years and to the transient people that come through for 1 to 10 years or the ones that decide to settle and call NOLA home forever. Bulbancha is the “Land of many tongues”, and many of them are spoken. Not all heard or understood. I need to go to Legal Aide and get ready to fight. My body was in a resting abundant state and now we are in a tense state with our guard up, waiting for the next catastrophe. I have cried many tears during this time. And all of it. Has truly effected my relationship with my partner and how I show up as a Mother. All I can say is I am very tender, deeply sad, and now moving slowly. I wish I leaned into slowness prior.

This is the eve of the New Moon and I plan to spend that deep in the woods, working on me! Manifesting a future that I really want. And I think I want to share some of that with you all now. I want a house, a home of our own. I don’t want to keep renting and moving about. I do want to still travel. The whole globe. With my daughter and Desmond and with more intention to bop into communities where all of our needs are met. I want to perform again more regularly and steadily. In plays, and musicals, on stage. I want to have a better relationship with money and at the same time be free from its confines and evils. I want to keep teaching Breathwork and working on my other creative offerings. I want to keep creativity at the forefront of my life. I think I lost that a bit and I hope to dedicate my life to creativity as I have before. It’s a constant ritualistic practice for me.

Below is a picture of The Journal of Radical Permission. I took a virtual class last year about it, but I wouldn’t dare answer the prompts. It was too intense and it touched places I didn’t want to go to emotionally. Most days now, I take a walk and am falling apart crying by the end and it seems like the most perfect time to do this. While I am tender and open. It is by the beautiful powerhouse’s Adrienne Maree Brown and Sonya Renee Taylor. This is the last thing I am going to share and it is quite vulnerable to me.

After I had Harper I thought My singing career and acting career was over. I couldn’t truly access my voice, my whole voice anymore. I didn’t like the sound of my singing voice and I couldn’t find the physical support. (most likely because of being cut open via C-section) I finally enrolled myself in a very pricey 7 week series class entitled “Rock the Audition” in NYC. It was for Musical Theatre artist that were having a hard time picking out pop/rock songs for all the pop/rock musicals out at that time. It was super informative. I finally found a song that worked and that I could dig into. I hadn’t experienced that in quite sometime. I stood up in front of the whole class, full of performers that have done national tours, and broadway and commercials and sang my song. It was silent at the end and I knew I did something right. I honored the song, honored myself and by the look on the teachers and students face it was GOOD! The teacher then opened up the floor for feedback and one girl said, “Samille that was beautiful, it was almost like you were waiting for PERMISSION to sing like that, to show that side of yourself”. I didn’t cry then but I did when I got home and rocked my baby to sleep while I sang to her. It was affirming that I didn’t need the parameters of an institution of higher ed, or world renown teachers to tell me “And Now Samille Be Great!”. That I hold these gifts, that they belong to me, and that I am my own creative vessel. That was ten years ago! I still struggle. I mourn my performing career deep in the darkest parts of my soul. How I wasn’t able to handle it emotionally after Harper. I lost the grit. But I am promising myself. That I will show the world who I really am. I hope this newsletter supports that for you too!

Remember tomorrow to get creative and witchy Under the Creative NEW Moon! 🌚 If you do, please share it in the notes. So much love to you! And thank you to anyone that donated to us in our time of need. 💜

On October 27th is my annual virtual Breathwork for Grief class. It takes place every year on my late Father’s birthday. A true Scorpio indeed. King Leon as I call my Father, would stir your shadow and make you question your ego without even trying. He still teaches me so much after his passing. I would love for you all to attend.

Podcast to listen to:

https://www.buzzsprout.com/1108100/11301848-feeling-whole-with-sonya-renee-taylor.mp3

I ended up with Desmond and Harper at 11 o’clock at night on the main strip in downtown Santa Cruz, California after eating dinner from a spot called Mo’s Dumplings. One thing to know about me is I love dumplings. I will come to all your events for dumplings. We were stuffed and decided to take a walk. That’s how we ended up on Pacific, ave. There was a movie theatre with a late night showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show and Killer Clowns from Outer Space. Although I am always down to watch “Rocky” and Desmond was ready for Killer Clowns…our very parental adult selves said they both were too advanced for the kid and kept walking. We stumbled upon a cafe that was open. This coffee shop turns into a dry club once a month, with a DJ and strobe lights, and all the club vibes. And that night just so happened to be the night when we were around. So we danced with our daughter in a “club” for the next hour plus. Magical! Out-front was a man named Orlando. Pronounced Or-land-o. He was selling shawls that he buys and sells all around the world. We spark up a conversation about what we both were doing in Santa Cruz and how often we come here. He lives a nomadic life and I told him about the journey we are on and how this was my first time in the area. He tells me to not second guess myself with my kid and that getting out of the mind-set of the status quo is freeing. That the more I leap I will be met with more and more blessings. That we are doing a brave thing. He continues with how he hopes we find each other again in the world. I told him, “I hope so too!” I bought a shaw, gave him a hug, and wished him well on his journey. He was leaving for Vietnam in 2 days. I said, “Until we meet again Or-land-o”. He said, “No, no, no, Or-land-o is a place in Florida, I am Or-lahnd-o and I am in your heart.” If that didn’t resonate so, so deeply. I smiled, placed my hands in prayer position and bowed. I passed a couple entangled in contact improv with rhythmic flow. I recognized it because I’ve partaken in this trust ritual in New Orleans led by one of my dear friends. I found my way through their maze and went back inside to watch Harper tear up the dance floor. Also to watch the faces of all the other adults in the room worshipping this baby disco Goddess. I was there smiling and conjuring up one of my many gifts: reading people’s minds. Them being enamored by her innate freedom and studying her aura and essence asking themselves, “how can I regain that freedom” or “I use to have that…how do I get it back?”. A remembering if you will. We all want to be liberated like children. To take up space in the most honest of ways that only children can. They are experts in honesty. Surely within that hour, the energy of expansion touched so many. Through first meetings, to the best of people watching each other in awe, with the universal languages of sound and movement being the orchestra—the soundtrack to this night. And again we have grown incrementally.

I mean I am sure there were a lot of brave people in that room, on that strip, in Santa Cruz. There are brave people everywhere. Trying new shit out! Ideas that the majority thinks are wild. Like having a ‘dry bar’. No one will come to that, and no one will have fun! Not so! So if you build it they will come? Perhaps. And then there’s this thing of all of us dancing together, raising our energy, strangers from most likely all around the world-keeping the beat together. Santa Cruz is a college town and one of the main reasons this was a stop on our trip is because there’s a graduate studies program here I have been eyeing for a couple of years. And a former client turned friend of mine via breathwork goes there and showed me around. I loved the campus. There’s an Arboretum, a farm, state of the art theatre’s and art making facilities. All surrounded by huge redwood trees, old enough to be everyones great grandmother. How lush, how green, hilly and at the same time close to the beach. Stays around the 70’s most of the year. It was rad to see the many sides of this little city. Now my favorite climate is tropical or the sub-tropics like what I have lived in for the past 5 years in New Orleans. But the 70’s is doable. I think after we got to California I really felt something in me grow! Not like the Grinch’s heart in the Christmas Classic we all know and love, but a sense of awareness and place and purpose even. ( I may have to dig deeper on the purpose part ) But, yeah! There was a sense of possibilities in California that I haven’t felt in a long time. New Orleans is a great place to hone your craft, to go inward. In whatever art form or idea, or DIY project you have been dreaming of you can get it off the ground in NOLA. I didn’t spend enough time in California to have a finite opinion, but my initial opinion is that it was a place of a lot of ideas moving forward. I think that is a big part about being a creative person. Doing art for you, for your community, maybe not to monetize everything, to just move slow and small and intricate-but forward. (avanzando a latin friend tells me) And then there is a time for your art to expand, for your idea to expand and not every idea is meant to be shared in an intimate way. Some art is for the collective! All of which we are vessels for. Maybe it’s the energy of being right out of silicon valley, or maybe because the weather was gloomy and moody in a way that only sparks of genius can be created and is familiar to the east coast. Maybe because it’s a college town and young people that have just left the nest have aspiration pouring out of them. They are filled with such hope. Or maybe because of the 50-70 year old white hippies that have settled in that town, still stuck in a time of “free love”, “groovy”, “make love not war” aesthetic.

So when people travel, is the intent to expand? Probably not. It’s probably to have a good time, to get away, it’s probably to create memories, or to use our vacation days. The thing is, travel does expand. It expands our minds, our hearts, our inner-standing, our understanding, our over-standing and so much more. We get to see places we’ve only heard others talk about. We get to experience things for ourselves. And through expansion we feel connected. We might even shrink. There has been so many times on this trip where Desmond and I both have felt so incredibly small. The vastness of the desert, the longevity and hugeness of the redwoods, the pueblos in NM that have been standing for 1,000 years and then here we are— small. And possibly thinking small and possibly finally thinking big! Expanding, Shrinking, being big, being small. Feeling like we are somebody and knowing we are nobody at the same time. It’s humbling really. Some of these days have went by so incredibly slow, that I had time to think about my placement in this universe. To look up and wonder what star is for me? To think about who I want to be and how I want to move. To think about what do I want to dismantle. What do I NEED to dismantle? In my own life, in my own world and in the world at large. Travel has given me the opportunity to be flexible. “Hey you wanna do this…?”, “Sure”, “You wanna try this?”, “why not!”. Sometimes people come back from a trip or a retreat and they question what’s reality. Was reality there, or is it here? I think you’re suppose to bring a little bit of everything everywhere else, I think that’s how we honor this growth.

Music that has kept me lately -

podcast worth every little bit -

A friend I never met in person, but a constant IG fellow unschooling mother that I have drawn inspiration from since I started this journey posed wonderful questions under my post about our quest. One question was “Is it easier or harder to feel emobodied, to have a settled nervous system, when traveling?” She followed that question by “How are you claiming space in SDE (Self Directed Education) everyday without an instagram-perfect wood pane glamping van?” In short, it’s hard, very hard. And yes, we didn’t have access to a van big enough for us to stand up in, let alone build a sink or shower and we didn’t have the time. This was merely to get us on the road. We got help from a friend that designed what it should look like and Desmond built the bed frame. We already had a mattress and we planned to shove our belongings underneath. We also packed Desmond and Harper’s bike on the back of it (Mine was stolen months prior) and there’s a couple of extra compartments in this 2021 Ford Transit that we are borrowing from my Mother. This is a no build build. Meaning- nothing is hammered in or screwed into the van. It’s a platform bed, mattress and other containers underneath. Plus a tent, camping stove and instapot underneath, shoes and toys for Harper. We did not intend to sleep in the van every night and we haven’t. However, we have slept under the stars in beautiful state parks. The girls in the van and Desmond sleeps in a tent right next to us. We kinda made DIY curtains from curtains found at family dollar and masking tape I brought, that I knew would come in handy. The van has two windows. Front and passenger. At night we roll them down and set up our curtains. It lets cool air in, but keeps the bugs out. We’ve done two workaways, a couple of hip camps, airbnb, state parks and stayed with friends. We’ve stayed at one hotel. Workaway is an online community where you pay a annual fee to connect with host world wide. They provide room and board and possibly food for breakfast in exchange for a couple hours of work a day. The living quarters could be meek or spacious. Our first workaway we had two bedrooms and a private bath. The second one we lived on a converted school bus. It is a more affordable way to travel. A slower way to travel. That allows you to get to know the land, city, town you pop up in and the community. Very enriching. So how do we practice self directed education on the road? If your on this journey you know that learning is happening everywhere, everyday and all the time. The experiences we’ve had have taught us all so so much. Harper has been there when we were cooking food at a campsite and a gust of wind came by and blew everything away! That I would say taught us a lot about patience and how powerful Mother Nature is, even with very little warning. Harper helps us read the map and currently is really obsessed with getting better at her rubix cube gifted by our friend Asmaaa. She learned about rattlesnakes and that baby rattlesnakes use ALL their venom when they bite you, she’s learned to play fetch better with dogs, and learned a lot about the desert. Two big things was she learned on this journey so far is to ride her bike and read books from front to back. The second workaway we did the family had kids and when Harper met the oldest kid that I believe was younger than her, it gave her the boost she needed. That kid was reading really well and Harper said, “I can do that too.” She already had the tools. Recognizing words everywhere but then she put them together and now she’s reading sentences and books. That really brought so much joy to me and Desmond and to our extended family. As you can imagine Harper has gotten a lot of love, kisses and praise for her recent accomplishments.

As far as being Embodied and whether my nervous system feels settled or frantic. I will say my moody nervous system is a constant guessing game. I am becoming use to its triggers and comforts, but I often get surprised by our malfunctions. And feeling at home in a large female body while the rest of the world projects their perceptions has never been easy. Again, I’m a crab so I enjoy small cozy spaces and really love traveling in a small van rather than a big van. (We had a big van before and it would freak me out) But emerging, —from my shell. Is scary!!! I haven’t felt unsafe ever on the trip but I have not always felt welcomed. We come as a big, black, loud, curse word slinging - family. People stare! Starring has always made me feel super uncomfortable. And my first instinct is to meet them with a very “Jersey Welcome”. You know, something like, “Fuck you looking at?” But, Desmond advices to “kill em’ with kindness” that was the daily experience of being in Santa Fe and in that whole area of NM. The people staring at us at every cafe, restaurant and grocery store. Striking up conversation by saying, “your not from here are you?” My reply was, “what makes you say that?” There I had to rely on Desmond to bring me back to my worthiness and vibe higher. That’s the nice part about having a partner that wants to see you win! Internally first.

Then there’s swimming—We ended up at The Blue Hole in Santa Rosa, NM. $10 to swim in a 80 foot deep sinkhole. Think Cenote but in America. After having a few rough days of being tested by weather, not having access to things you want, wi-fi and financial confusion. It was so nice to give it to the water. It was crystal clear blue water, cold and super fresh. In front, of everyone being the biggest woman there I took off my dress, bathing suit on and jumped in. I love being a water sign because the water shows me there’s always enough room for me. That I fit here. And I just opened my arms and floated. I felt expansive, magical, light and at home. I didn’t care about others. I needed that moment. To wash off our family spats and the ways we have been received along our journey.

We’ve been challenged by not always having our amenities. Not having access to good coffee or espresso. Not having a good signal for work and communication. Not having the most prestigious accommodations. And not being around people that look like us! It has taught us to embrace the differences of cultures, right here in our own Country. To try new foods! Sonoran hot dogs, New Mexican hot dogs, red and green chili’s, sopapillas and arepa’s just to name a few. How else would I have known apricots just so happen to grow on trees in NM unless I saw them and ate them myself. I got to see at least 6 Owl’s on this trip and I wasn’t expecting that. That Desmond can fall asleep in so many uncomfortable places. That Bisbee Arizona is such a trippy fucking magical place. That altitude sickness is very real! It wiped me and Dez out. And that in spite of Colonization there are still so many places in this Country that are still called by their original names. Still practicing their original traditions and customs. And there are people that are still inhabiting places that have existed and thrived long before Colonizers got here. With that I have also learned that us as Americans have been kept in the dark about these beautiful people and places. And that the First Peoples of this nation don’t know much about Black Americans and that we really don’t know much about them either. And that can only truly be taught through travel and story exchange. So my embodiment continues even now and is a conscious practice for as long I breathe. I like to remember how my body feels when I discover something for the first time. I like to document it somehow—my journals, phone conversation with my Mom or friends or now here. As far as SDE, the whole nature of this expedition has been lead with our hearts and listening as we go. Very little planning but a few places to rest our heads along the way. We have so much Gratitude for this experience. That has been super humbling and challenging. I hope you all are challenging yourselves out of your comfort zones. Til next time! And happy new moon!

I don’t want to act like you know me or that you should. The truth is I don’t have it all figured out and am pretty hard on myself most of the time for not being wherever I think I am suppose to be. But if your a friend of mine, in person or via online-mainly Instagram, where I stay pretty active than Thank You! Thank you for following me here.

The last couple of years have been tough. Really since 2018 it has been really hard for me and my family. And truth be told since we had Harper we have moved at least every 2 years which hasn’t been good for anyone’s nervous system. For mine especially, as a cancer sun sign it has felt very disruptive. Why? Why have we had to move? Mainly money and gentrification! Straight up! Gentrification changed the whole landscape of Jersey City, the northeast and now every major city in the USA. JC was home for so long and then we left. We left one place I thought I would always call home (Jersey City) and fell madly in-love with another place. At least “I” fell madly in-love, I will speak for myself here. New Orleans is a dream! A magical, cloudy, dust filled dream, no,-incense filled dream and honestly sometimes a nightmare. A city where I felt like I could truly be myself without all of these big expectations. I stopped shaving and for the most part hardly wore a bra. That was huge for me! New Orleans gave me permission that I could do that!!! I never had that permission before. I didn’t have to be perfect or make sense, but I did have to speak to everyone that walked by. Even the wayward souls and heroin addicts say “goodmorning” and “goodnight”. We have amazing sunrises and sunsets. We have potholes the size of swimming pools. We go fishing in filthy water. We eat that same fish. We are surrounded by water but most of us wouldn’t dare swim in it. We go crazy when it’s time to pick mulberries. We love eating loquats and kumquats off trees too! We share a beer with strangers-shit we share a dance with strangers-a kiss with strangers-we share our deepest darkest secrets with strangers! Because we know they can hold it and because we know we wanna hear theirs too! It’s a city of stories and memories and history all fucked up and re-stored and painted over again. New Orleans is the most magical place I have ever lived in my life! And I still talk about it like I live there because I know I always will in some way. New Orleans is my soulmate city. No other way to put it. Mirroring what needs to be seen, swallowing what I no longer need and has offerings for all of my longings and desires. I am eternally grateful to have made that move to NOLA when I did. And that my guy was down too. In fact we both wanted to travel. It wasn’t something that we talked about on the first date or anything like that just slowly was discussed and infiltrated in our lives over time. Let me tell you a little bit about Desmond.

Desmond use to live next to Branch Brook Park in Newark, NJ. We would walk through that park and work out in that park all the time. He would pick from trees. I would say, “you can’t eat that?” and he would say, “why not?” And I didn’t have a good answer. My reply was because ‘this is a city’ and ‘its dirty’ and I ‘didn’t buy it from a grocery store’, but the next thing you know I was eating berries too! He knew that park like the back of his hand. He knew what every plant was and the fish in the pond. He had stories to tell about crackheads shitting in bushes that he would catch on his morning jog and in a way he made it all seem so quaint. He knew the names of birds. He bird watched. He still bird watches. And he only rode his bike everywhere. And if you see him in New Orleans, he’s doing the same thing. If it weren’t for Desmond this city girl would have never went back outside. Not REALLY outside. He really showed me how beautiful parks were in the most urban areas that I just took for granted. Then we had our daughter- Harper.

Harper was the sweetest baby and still is one of the sweetest kid’s. Like many new parents, we were broke and couldn’t afford daily trips to ‘baby gym’s’ so we went to parks! She would chase the ducks, we look at birds together, we would play eye spy for turtles. I got to see things again for the first time that I took for granted and that made me want to see more. When your child is discovering the wonders of the world it is a direct remembering for the parent. To time travel back to when you were a kid and finally saw all the farm animals in “Old McDonald”, it’s magical. We started hiking around that time too. All the parks in our area with our Harper! Got lost a couple times. Saw lots of snakes and chipmunks and ate more strange fruit that he insisted was edible. That helped shift something in me and I wanted to see more of the world. We started talking about places we wanted to go or things we wanted to see. Desmond had only ever lived in Essex County and would venture often to the Jersey Shore. A few family trips to Georgia, of course NY and he was in the Pathfinders-kinda like the BoyScouts. After we had Harper we visited New Orleans and Puerto Rico. Two places our driver’s liscence’s would take us that were vastly different than the rest of the USA. And NOLA had my heart on the first trip. We kept visiting and then without our parental units approval we jumped and moved. And after you live a couple hundred miles away whats another 100. We’ve made some beautiful memories traveling the east coast. From NOLA to NY, Florida too!

Then this year we decided we wanted to travel west. I must admit this is the worse time of the year to do that and during the hottest summer ever recorded. Even still, I have always wanted to see the state of NM and we spent almost 4 weeks there. I am now writing you from the state of AZ, which has been beautiful and mind-blowing. I don’t know how far we will go or how long. We have visited some friends along the way and made many more.

This is just a brief introduction to who I am. I promise you I am multifaceted and have so much more to share. I needed a place to express these sides of myself. If you would like to stay up to date with my travels, offerings and ramblings than please subscribe and tell a friend. It cost nothing to stay in touch.

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