A few months ago my therapist suggested that I reconnect and talk to my angels. As I contemplated if it was time to find a new therapist (I had grown accustomed to using my analytical mind, full of reason, to navigate through life), I realized I had drifted far from the imaginative energy that the spiritual world has to offer.
Maybe it was from years of being indoctrinated to believe that intellectualism supersedes spirituality; I found myself looking down my nose at the notion that my hippie days might not be over.
A couple of weeks ago I landed myself in the hospital—I legitimately burnt out. It took a few very long weeks to get back to my normal busy-bee speed. I am not used to being so tired that I can’t do anything or feeling so sick that doing nothing was the best option.
“Our homes will gladly reflect to us the existence of our creativity and imagination.”
One thing became very clear: it was time for me to slow down and listen to my body. As I was recovering, I saw all the projects in the house that I wanted to get to, and all the little nooks and crannies that I needed to clean—but I couldn’t do anything about it. I had to patiently wait until I got my energy back. In the stillness, during my time of waiting, I met with my angels.
It’s not that I had a vision or conversation, but more like I was greeted with intense creativity. I felt more open to the idea of living in a state where the spirit world moved all around me, unseen and all throughout the house. I saw my frustrations of slowing down start to melt away as I embraced that life is more interesting when my heart and mind are open to something bigger than myself.
A friend recently told me that a common theme across many religions and spiritual practices is that within most rituals, to commune with a higher power, spirit, God-like entity, ghost, goddess, etc. is to first prepare the space. It all starts with the ritual of clearing, centering and waiting.
Once I had my energy back I asked a few of my friends to come over to give my home a good ol’ fashioned witchy cleansing. I spent the days beforehand doing deep cleaning and (once again) purging unnecessary items. I prepared the space: my house was ready and I was open to tapping back into something deeper.
When my girlfriends came over for the cleansing, we discussed what I wanted to invite into my home. Safety, a sense of feeling sturdy, and trust was what I asked to be prayed into my home that night. We also discussed what type of mindsets and negative patterns and energies that I wanted to be done with.
We started by smudging ourselves then headed to the basement and worked our way up to the third floor. Between the four of us, we came carrying two sage smudge bundles, one stick of palo santo, frankincense, myrrh, a candle, a jar full of salt and a singing bowl. One of my friends started doing reiki on each window, door and wall of my home and it hit me—I was making my spirituality tangible and real through ritual and action. I became overwhelmed by the feeling of coming back to my spiritual home. The clearing of energies was working and it felt great. I was merging my imagination with real actions and it was yielding positive results.
As I sit in my home I feel held by the walls that surround me, the love of my friends and the warmth of my family. I feel safe, intentional, and I trust the steps that I take. The floors that I wash, the table I set, the pear cobbler that I bake: these things make up everyday life. Slowing everything down and coming back to the space that holds this beautiful life allowed me to press the reset button on what is on the inside.
When we have this type of spiritual connection to our homes, they feel more significant. Our homes become a place for reflection, restoration, healing and growth—but more so, meaning and connection. Keeping our homes sacred in this way allows us to view things as precious, and we become more careful and respectful in a general sense.
Ultimately, my therapist knows how passionate I am about my work. She, like me, believes that we need to start with ourselves and then push out past our ego to unite and rebuild our broken world. She was gently nudging me (as she saw the path to the burnout I was on) to come back to my angels, clear away energies that have been holding me back and invite in a spirit of hope.
There are times when I convince myself that there is nothing more to this life than what we can see or experience, but whether the spirit realm is real or not, I now know it’s possible to tap into an invisible life-giving energy.
Our homes will gladly reflect to us the existence of our creativity and imagination. It might be as simple as being motivated to learn new habits or routines, or as exciting as feeling inspired to move and shift everything to create a whole new life for ourselves.
Let your house be a home for your spirit.
