Go Smudge Yourself (And The House You Own, Too)

Okay, m’peeps.

Don’t you just lurv trying something new that might seem totes-magotes ridiculous, but also, awesomely essential to the craziness that has become your life???

Well.

If your answer is yes (or if that sentence didn’t even make any sense to you, but you just feel like reading along) lemme tell you about my afternoon activity while the kiddos were having quiet time today.

Smudging.

As in, cleansing my house—and hopefully my person!—of all this negative, hard-to-make-up-stories-of-the-kind-of-crap-that-keeps-happening-to-us-but-it’s-our-real-life, kind of juju.

Now.

Before I go any further (or before anyone reading this can go on a tangent about my mental stability), let me tell you how all of this came about.

First: 

There is a blog I follow (really, it’s the only blog I follow, ha), written by a woman who has recently gone through a major home renovation and upheaval, along the same timelines that I have.

Now, this woman is slightly more outgoing than I am, in terms of connecting with energies within her homes and within other people, and feeling that they influence her life, so she smudges and cleanses regularly, and feels pretty happy about the vibe it creates for her.

That’s not really me. And I say that in neither a positive nor negative way.

I just don’t feel very strongly about any physical place having that kind of impact on my mental game.

But...

Around the time of our ceiling-leak hole last week, on the same day I drove my “new” car for the first time after our old one was totaled because of a curb, as I was finally stocking my newly built pantry that’s still barren of cabinet doors because of the criminal contractor who stole them, in the house that was basically a cement slab and tears when we moved in, because of another criminal contractor who stole a bunch of our money...I thought: huh. Might not be a bad idea to cleanse this joint.

Enter: helpful brother and uncle, who know someone with the capability of assembling and sending a sage smudge stick (no idea if that’s a technical term), along with all the other positive juju vibe stuff I could possibly need. :)

Now, naturally, because I’m a lil’ bit obsessive about stuff, I wanted to wait to smudge until the house was all clean and tidy (or as tidy as it ever is these days).

But when I bent over to thrown something in Little Man’s bathroom trash can after lunch, and the toilet paper holder snagged my new, long necklace that I was wearing for the first time, that was a souvenir from our trip last week, and literally tugged it off my neck and broke it, I though: okay, we’re smudging now. Now.

Let it be said, yet again, that I know nothing about this subject matter, I am no bearer of wisdom and certainly no vessel of knowledge.

I’m just a woman who has had a spectacularly tough run o’ luck in life of late, and I just thought it might be a happily symbolic activity to “cleanse” my new home, and state for the record: this is our fresh start. Nothin’ but positive intentions moving forward.

The process, in and of itself, is easy (as there’s really no right or wrong way to do this, apparently). 

I received three lovely sage sticks (more than enough for oodles of smudging rounds).

Along with this gorgeous shell and stand to place the sticks within.

Hilariously—and appropriately—I bought a new kitchen fire extinguisher on Saturday (have I mentioned the bad luck?????), so I set that out, you know, just in cases (name that movie).



And...off we go!



Not gonna lie: the scent, it is strong.

Like, not at all subtle.

But I opened doors and windows (as you’re told to do, to let the scent and bad juju out), and walked around wafting like the best of them, thinking my particular prayer for our life here: a happy home, with more good than bad. 

Simple. That’s all I ever want.

Smudge...



Smudge...



Everywhere a smudge-smudge...



Begone, bad juju!



And for good measure, after the smudging (and sage extinguishing), I followed up with the cleansing room spray I was sent.

Full disclosure: the spraying is around the time I got a bit tipsy-happy-earthy-pixie, as I began flitting around, literally spraying as a did a little pirouette here and there. 

Spin...spray!

Dance freely, and...spray!

A little spritz full of happy for this room, that room, everywhere a happy room. :)

So, who knows? Maybe there really is something to this cleansing that just helps you reset your mental perspective.

All I know is that I’m so very blessed—with my family, with this dang house that I do love, despite all its strive, with so much happy and joy that we fill up on, daily.

But I’d very much like to stop with the leaks and repairs and accidents and strife.

So...here’s to a fresh start.

Puh-lease!

Peace out.

P.S. Let the record show that I finished this post, right as things were deteriorating upstairs during “quiet time.”

Chica complained Little Man was choking her.

When I interrogated him, he full on admitted it, but said he tried to say sorry.

And upon cross-examination, I discovered that his toy had been taken by Chica prior to the incident.

Chica confessed immediately to her crimes with a hilarious head tilt, and a, “well, yeah...” as if the toy-snatching had nothing to do with the choking.

And then they both collapsed in giggles as they confessed to asking Siri how to poop her her pants.

Ha.

Maybe summer smudging should be a must for all mothers? Amiright???? ;)

Over and out.