The Weird Reason Why I’ll Be Burning Sage

I don’t consider myself woo-woo, mystical, or unscientific. My mother presented intellect as the utmost virtue when I was growing up and she unabashedly scoffed at religion. I’ve been shamed at near mention of my spiritual side.

Yet I’ve read more books than her by now. The more I read, the more I uncover how scientific “advances” and recent research consistently guide science back to truths observed by ancient cultures. Things like yoga, meditation, acupuncture and tai chi were once seen as woo-woo practices, yet their practical applications were undeniable by the medical community. These practices have become more mainstream as a result.

“We have been taught to neglect, despise and violate our bodies, and to put all faith in our brains. Indeed, the special disease of the civilized man might be described as a block or schism between his brain (specifically, the cortex) and the rest of his body.”

Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity

I’ve learned that doubting the mystical is rooted in white supremacy. Ancient practices were deemed barbaric and foolish without considering their merit. If colonizers acknowledged the genius farming techniques of the Inca, how could they justify treating them as less than human? They had to degrade all aspects of a culture so they could ravage, rape and replace with their own beliefs.

“We have allowed brain thinking to develop and dominate our lives out of all proportion to ‘instinctual wisdom,’ which we are allowing to slump into atrophy.”

Alan Watts, The Wisdom of Insecurity

I can’t help but acknowledge how strangely resonant every tarot card I pull continues to be. I’m as woo-woo as my experience makes me, whether it’s seeing the right sign at the right time or kismet. And I *can not* deny the recent experience I had with smudging sage.

my first time smudging sage

The first time I burned sage was partially for a comedic bit. Amidst the heartbreak and frustration of my son moving, I shared with others that I was taking down his posters, having the walls and ceilings of his room painted. I wasn’t going to leave a shrine up for someone that was intentionally keeping their distance. I joked I’d sage the room with a few people before I followed through.

here’s the weird part

I didn’t notice the correlation, but I found myself wanting to sleep in that room. Less than a week ago I published a post saying I was sleeping in that room instead of with my husband, though he and I were in a good place. I attributed it to wanting to focus on my business and I was waking up happier. I was doing what worked.

then we had a houseguest.

About a week into the new sleeping arrangement (which I strayed from on weekends) my oldest son came down for his first visit with us since his departure and I cleared out evidence of my use of the room. We spent his first day in the city, Christmas shopping for him, eating Vegan Szechuan food, me dressed like an elf, him surprisingly unembarrassed, us waxing poetic & philosophical and back to planning our hypothetical stand up comedy set. Everything fell back into place.

Back at the house, I noticed his anxiety reappeared. Lots of pacing, on his phone, making plans to get out. A couple days in, on Christmas Day, I asked:

“You seem like you don’t want to be around. Is it the house? Bad memories? We got along better in the city”
He said, “yeah, bad energy. Maybe you need to sage the place.”
“I have sage! I actually saged the room that used to be yours. Is it better in there?”
“Yeah it’s fine”

We play a game & afterward I suggested we follow through with the smudging, burning sage idea & he was “too tired” which meant he wanted to lie in the bed and scroll. To each their own.

He leaves in the evening and I sage the whole house, down the smallest corner in the basement. I put my younger son to sleep, and I knock out cold in his bed—though I’m usually too high energy to do so. I wake up a few times and can feel the difference, I can smell it and the feeling is hard to explain but eventually I go upstairs to my bed and have restful sleep through the rest of the night.

Not so for another person in the house.

My older son comes home late-ish, falls asleep in the room that used to be his. He then proceeds to *violently throw up* in the morning, on multiple occasions. (This guy is very sober, mind you) During the second clean up process, he falls asleep in the bathtub with the water running for an hour.

He thought he ate something funky at the diner, but I’m not ruling out that some of his perceived enemy was within. Still holding off on any exorcism jokes for now.

more on sage

• Sage grows where overgrazing devastates land, where erosion cracks the soil. From desolate western plains to the barren Russian Steppes, it brings life forth out of destruction.
• It’s been proven to reduce airborne bacteria by 94%
• air remained almost completely free of harmful bacteria for up to 24 hours after smudging. Some potentially pathogenic bacteria were absent even after 30 days in the smudged environment.
• Its antibacterial, antioxidant, anti-inflammatory, free radical scavenging, and antitumor activities have been found to be effective in the development of novel natural drugs to prevent, control, and treat many minor health problems as well as more serious and complicated diseases such as diabetes, Alzheimer’s, and cancer.

now that the whole house has been smudged…

I have no urge whatsoever to sleep in a bed other than mine. I attributed none of my need for space to the smudging before this second round, but now that my room has the same treatment as that other one, suddenly the urge has completely left me. I held such conviction before. I know it seems silly. I’m okay with being silly.

Now, for a writing prompt:

How have your political views changed over time?

✍️ prompt #2166

My views are always changing, political or otherwise, because I consistently receive new information to draw from. I’m not so foolish to be rigid in my beliefs. I have become increasingly progressive over the years and a book that resonates with me regarding government is Utopia for Realists by Rutger Bregman.