*identifying specifics in Indigestories are changed to protect the privacy of loved ones.
ICE MELTS AWAY
It’s dark now.
My eldest son strolls into our living room for dinner. Instead, he finds Jazmin folded over her knees, chuckling, turning her head to talk to beings we don’t see, fidgeting with her hands. Akin U-turns back into the safety of his room. He’s seen it all now.
In between ominous voices coming through, Jazmin hyperfixates on the melting ice cubes in my planter. I promised She slowly returns to herself. Her breathing calms.
Silence and wet sandstone from where ice melted become the loudest thing in the room.
What a relief! Layla is back. I smudge her, we chat about what happened, and say goodbye. I look at the time. 12 hours since the start of my training until now. I cleanse myself, the couple of apprentices left, and my home. Using libations, yerbas, y humito, guarded by my faja and guides, I use the last bit of my strength to cleanse the furthest parts of the backyard, all the way to the front sidewalk. Tomorrow is the final day of my three-day intensive. The energy needs to be reset.
Underneath my broad arbol de aguacate, I witness ancestral horrors I wish I could unsee. Why isn’t my limpia working? This energy reminds me of Layla’s house, when I had to quadruple cleanse. This feels so familiar, but I don’t know why. I cleanse over and over. The ONE day my fire keeper couldn’t make it- this happens. That’s how it be. You think “nothing ever happens”, only to realize it’s because you follow protocol. I’ve been protected all this time.
I call my downest bruja hermanas y me dan el consejo de conseguir una santera. This “Like cures like” approach resonates with me: use santería on santería. I cleanse again before bed, pray at my altar, and lay in the dark. The energy in the workshop area seems fine, but something still feels off.
