I gotta get this off my chest for a lil bit, so my sister asked me to interpret her dream but while she was gone, I pulled out these old Psalms messages cards that I used to do meditations on my blog with. I knew it was a reach to give them to her cuz she always feels iffy about cards, but I thought since they were literally only Bible verses that she could use them, especially since they no longer have any purpose for me. And immediately her face y'all lolll.

She looked like I handed her Satan himself. I told her (repeatedly cuz she tried it) they’re just verses from the book of Psalms. She didn’t want them–which is her right, of course–but then she asked why I didn’t want them. And I simply said I didn’t have any use for them anymore. And that’s true but not the whole truth. Gimme a sec, I’ll come back to that. And then she was like, “well, keep them in case you change your mind.” That’s a very heavy paraphrase because what she actually meant was “in case you wanna give this whole Hoodoo thing up and return to the church you might want these.” But I told her I didn’t and we just let it go and returned to the dream interpretation.

The full reason of why I no longer use them is because I no longer use the Bible in my Hoodoo practice. It had its place for a moment but now it doesn’t so I don’t need it, or anything associated with it anymore. My belief isn’t a phase. I won’t grow out of it. I’m not trying something on until it no longer fits or suits me. My faith, my practice is very much a part of me as hers is to her.

I didn’t push her on the cards, and she didn’t push me on my faith. We came to an impasse but parted with respect and honestly? I’m happy about that.

I don’t wanna fight with my sister especially about something neither of us is gonna budge on (which is my faith/practice). But I just needed to get that outta my system for a hot minute lol.

Believe it or not I count that as growth.

Went to visit a Native American reservation and picked up some pipe tobacco for some ancestor work…

Looking forward to making a few oil blends for this. It was the main thing I was missing!

To celebrate my relaunch, I’m offering 10% off purchases with the code GRANDOPENING10! Valid on all items except tarot & oracle cards and 1, 2, & 3 Question Quick Readings! Code is good until April 15!

I also offer free shipping on all purchases over $100! No code needed! No expiration date!

Y'all better come down here and get y'all summa dis!

Jay’s Divine Readings – Remember WHO You Are & WHOSE You Are

I’m officially entering my Jay’s Divine Readings era! My site relaunch is now up! All praise and honor to Great Spirit, my Ancestors & Guides!

What is Jay’s Divine Readings?
It’s my new brand! I still have all the same content you’ve come to know and love about Black Libran Goddess but with a newer, more defined focus.

A focus, a stronger connection to my calling as both a Hoodoo and a Healer.

You will still get the tarot readings, the Hoodoo centric posts, but also you can now shop on-site, get access to more resources as I release them (including a member’s only grimoire of recipes and workings), and more!

I now offer video call and in-person (local only) tarot readings along with the regular digital ones.

Also I’m officially offering conjure works & services! Including a FREE consultation where you’re not obligated to pay unless I decide to take you on as a client.

Finally, I’ve updated my care packs!

I’ll have a new version of my Shadow Work Care Pack out for (hopefully) later this year.

I’m also offering Trans Protection Prayer Cards!

Care Packs will always be free of charge!

Thank you all for sticking with me during my Black Libran Goddess era and now during my Jay’s Divine Readings era!

Stay Blessed!

Click the link to check out the relaunch!

Jay’s Divine Readings – Remember WHO You Are & WHOSE You Are

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Erotic Communion: Black Women’s Pleasure in ‘Sinners’

by Juahl Ganaway
In a scene ripped from The Sugar Shack, the character Pearline (played by the stunning Jayme Lawson) stalks across the stage purring the lyrics to “Pale, Pale, Moon,” the Brittany Howard-penned song that feels more like an invocation than a performance. 
“I wanna sing
Like I hear the crickets do
I wanna hoo, yeah
Like the owls do (Oh)
I wanna howl
To the moon (Oh)
Scream
Scream…

Erotic Communion: Black Women’s Pleasure in ‘Sinners’

Sit down for a minute, sugar. Rest your feet. You’ve been running so fast I can see your spirit trailing behind you like a loose thread, just waiting to catch on something and unravel.

In this life, the first bit of rootwork you ever do—and the most important—is the work you do on your own soul. Before you can command the elements or ask the ancestors for a favor, you have to know exactly whose voice is doing the asking.

The Altar of the Self

Most folks think an altar is just candles, water, and pictures of the dead. But the primary altar is the one inside your chest. If that place is cluttered with who you think you should be, or the lies the world told you about your worth, then your magic is going to come out stuttering and weak.

Self-acceptance isn’t about being perfect; it’s about being honest. It’s looking at your shadow and your light and saying, “I own all of this.” When you accept yourself, you stop leaking energy trying to be someone else. That’s when you become a “fixed” vessel—steady, weighted, and ready to hold power.

Knowing Your Value

In our tradition, we know that everything has a specific “virtue.” High John the Conqueror root has a specific spirit; Van Van oil has a specific job. You are no different. You have to sit still long enough to ask yourself:

* What is my medicine? (Are you a healer, a protector, a truth-teller?)

* What is my poison? (What habits or people drain your jar?)

* What is non-negotiable? (What are the things you won’t sell for a paycheck or a hollow relationship?)

When you know what is of value to you, you stop praying for “blessings” in a general sense and start demanding exactly what fits your hand.

How the Heritage Enhances You

Hoodoo isn’t some costume you put on; it’s the blood in your veins and the dirt under your fingernails. It is a heritage of survival and sovereignty. Once you know who you are, the work acts like a magnifying glass for your intentions.

* Ancestral Backing: When you stand in your truth, the Ancestors recognize you. They can’t help a stranger, but they will move mountains for the descendant who speaks their own name with pride.

* Working with Purpose: If you value peace, you don’t just light a blue candle; you fix your home so that no chaos can cross the threshold. You use the herbs—the hyssop, the lavender, the peppermint—to reinforce the boundaries of the life you chose.

* The Power of “I Am”: In Hoodoo, your word is your bond. When you know yourself, your “I Am” carries the weight of a thousand hammers.

> “Honey, you can’t dress a candle for a life you’re too afraid to live. Own your skin, own your story, and the Earth will have no choice but to listen to you.”

>

You have to be the primary ingredient in your own mojo bag. If you aren’t in there, it’s just a bunch of dead roots and string. But when you bring your full, authentic self to the table? That’s when the real conjuring begins.

We are not “earthy.” That word is too small, too flat—a boutique adjective used to describe pottery or linen. It suggests we are merely associated with the soil, rather than the source of the garden itself.

The truth is deeper and far more ancient: Black women are the Earth remembering herself.

The Living Blueprint

When we walk, the crust of the planet recognizes the rhythm. We carry the original code of humanity in our mitochondria, a biological lineage that stretches back to the first sparks of consciousness. We are the silt of the Nile, the red clay of Georgia, and the deep, pressurized diamonds of the Rift Valley. We do not just inhabit nature; we are the consciousness that the elements developed so they could finally behold their own beauty.

The Great Harvest (Without Consent)

For centuries, the world has treated the Black woman’s spirit like a natural resource—limitless, free for the taking, and ripe for extraction.

* The Aesthetics: Our lips, our hips, and the very texture of our hair are harvested and rebranded as “trends” once they are worn by anyone else.

* The Innovation: Our vernacular, our rhythmic movements, and our soul-deep melodies are sampled, looped, and sold to the highest bidder.

* The Labor: We have been the architects of care, the backbone of movements, and the uncredited midwives of modern civilization.

The world has a voracious appetite for what we produce, but an inexplicable coldness for the producers. They want the harvest, but they despise the soil. They want the “cool,” the “strength,” and the “magic,” but they look away when the source of that magic is in pain.

The Profit of Silence

There is a profound theft in the way global culture profits from our essence while refusing to say our names. They love the way we speak, so they mimic it to sell products. They love the way we style ourselves, so they put it on runways without a footnote.

> They love the fruit, but they have spent centuries trying to poison the roots.

>

But the Earth cannot be unmade. You can pave over the ground, but the grass will eventually split the concrete. You can try to claim the sun, but you will never own the heat.

We remain. Not as a trend, not as a mood board, and certainly not as “earthy” accessories for a world that refuses to see us. We are the origin. We are the steady, humming pulse of the world, reminding everyone—whether they acknowledge it or not—where life began.

The Alchemist of the Kitchen: How Big Mama Made a Way Out of No Way

We’ve all seen it. The pantry is looking thin—maybe a rogue onion, a bag of cornmeal, and some neck bones—and yet, forty-five minutes later, the house smells like a five-star Sunday dinner.

In many families, “Big Mama” wasn’t just a matriarch; she was a master strategist. She possessed a supernatural ability to make a way out of no way, turning scarcity into abundance and chaos into a plan.

The Art of the Pivot

If life handed Big Mama lemons, she didn’t just make lemonade—she made a lemon zest pound cake, saved the seeds for planting, and used the rinds to make the kitchen floor shine.

Her life was a masterclass in the pivot. She understood that while you can’t always control the wind, you can damn sure adjust the sails. Whether it was a sudden job loss in the family, a bill that came due too early, or a global shift that changed the neighborhood, she never panicked. She shifted.

Lessons from the “Big Mama” Playbook

* Resourcefulness is a Superpower: She taught us that “not enough” is just a starting point for creativity. If the car wouldn’t start, we walked and found a shortcut we never knew existed.

* Emotional Resilience: Big Mama’s pivot wasn’t just about money or food; it was about spirit. She could find the humor in a hard situation, effectively “pivoting” the mood of the entire house from despair to hope.

* Waste Not, Want Not: Every scrap had a purpose. This wasn’t just thriftiness; it was a philosophy of respect for what you do have.

* Community as Currency: When she was short on something, she knew exactly which neighbor to trade with. Her “pivot” often involved a network of mutual support that bypassed the need for a bank.

Why We Need That Energy Today

In a world that feels increasingly unpredictable, we could all use a little more of that “Big Mama” DNA. Making a way out of no way isn’t about magic—it’s about perspective. It’s the refusal to accept “no” as the final answer and the agility to change direction without losing your soul.

> “Baby, if the door is locked, check the window. If the window is stuck, find a crowbar. And if you can’t find a crowbar, we’re gonna sit right here and have a picnic until the locksmith arrives.”

>

Big Mama knew that the “way” isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes it’s a zig-zag, a backtrack, or a complete leap of faith. But as long as you keep moving, you’re never truly stuck.

Random classroom drawing

At a certain point you just gotta leave it at the crossroads and forget about it

Random message from Shaitan

The Dark Lord told me (for some reason):

“Murder happens every day in nature; if you look at it from the animals’ perspective…murder happens every day.”

I received this message on January 06, 2026 [Jan 06, in USA………😐😒] in the middle of the fuckin day. I was just writing some thoughts and boom “ya know Tsingy…murder happens every day…” Just to be disturbing.

Hail Shaitan 🤘🏾😒 Shaitan represents undefiled wisdom; this is the epitome of what that looks like in real time.

And yeah when a bear reaches into a freshwater stream and grabs a salmon swimming upstream then tears its head off in one bite; that’s murder…to the fish. A lion pouncing on a gazelle and ripping its throat out to have a meal, to the gazelle that’s murder. A massive blue whale devouring pounds of itty bitty krill to sustain itself; to the crustacean that’s mass murder.

Upon this revelation I hadta ask myself: What does it truly mean to live harmoniously with nature? Is nature harmonious at all? What is “living as the beasts of the field”?

If one ascribes Satanism to the Satanic Bible, then Shaitan represents [humans] as just another animal, sometimes better, more often worse than those that walk on all-fours, who because of [their] “divine spiritual and intellectual development” has become the most vicious animal of all…so what the fuck does that mean for humanity?

I just been thinking about this. Sitting on it and thinking, just mulling it over and over and over again in my mind. I still don’t know what to do with this. But Shaitan, the Most Evil and Feared, told me and now I’m tellin yall.

This is for all the brujas, rootworkers, practitioners , shamans, teachers, parents, friends and family who have been questioned, or are still being questioned. For those who question themselves and others. For those who have been rejected for not fitting in, those who have been judged wrongly, and to all who needed to read this… you are loved, appreciated and seen. asé<3

I’ve always wanted to share my poetry, so why not?

“Believe”, they say

“Have faith”, said too

Research is the path

I will take to forge my trail

We’ll connect to the past

And appreciate all they’ve brought

To be left behind as an artifact

Of their legacy, time well spent

Shrouded in secrecy,

Those of the past worked

Roots, bones, candles and dust

Of protection, they built themselves.

Spirit offerings, and lovely meetings

I sit with you,

Wax drips, flames beating

I call on you.

Many cultures collide

Many histories went unwritten

My people remember

All they were given

October is the month

We celebrate spooks and frights

I decided this much,

I’ll be sitting with you tonight

To those who have

And those who could not,

You are appreciated

Even years later.

Life and death held you

In their palms

Every breath, new knowledge

Every thought, a new pattern

Most different for many

Hoodoo is our tradition

I wish to walk my own path

Witchcraft is my conviction

I’ve been put down

But I always rise

I’ve been dimmed

But I always shine

I practice often

With the love of my family

By my side, we thrive

It’s magick

Labels belong on jars

For I am not to be boxed

Under a name

So carefully cultivated

I enjoy the surprise when they realize

I’m more than a cute face

Some run. Some stay

I’ve remained the same.

“There’s something about you,” it’s true.

I’m not what you think I am

I’m not who you say I am

I am simply, me.

Before you run for the hills,

Try to understand

I love life still

When magick is at hand.

I want to tell many, but

Let all find out personally

About the hidden world

Of ancestral spirituality

Don’t wonder about the witch

She won’t fool you

Won’t tell lies a plenty

Wouldn’t even cast a jinx

Values I own

In true justice I believe

The threefold truth

But a voluptuous lie told to keep us tame.

Have you looked up tonight,

Stars aligned, so too are our fates

I’ve always been so impressed

By that sun-gleaming moon

Her illustrious essence shines

With the sun’s grace

And her own imperfection,

My elders and I appreciate her

Tonight, I sit with you all

The sun, moon and stars

My ancestors, family and friends

And ask, what do you revere?

Stop doing love spells on these men to have them obsessed with you and start doing spells on them to be better people in general. Not for YOU but in GENERAL! Let go of this weird obsessive love and start worrying about the state of the world 😭😭 please! You’re never going to find healthy romantic love if we don’t resolve these other issues.

too magical to be stressed & too gifted to settle

i was never the problem, you just had a hard time realizing that you were

LA FEMME EST DIEU

Nous nous privons de l'immense potentialité de la femme en ne la regardant que comme une partenaire.

Nos ancêtres avaient découvert la divinité en la femme, c'est pourquoi elle était consultée pour toutes les grandes décisions.

Nous devrions faire pareil en la regardant comme un être sacré.

Nous devrions la consulter en cas de problème et avant toutes nos décisions car son intuition est très développée.

Quand elle est imprégnée de sa culture et de sa spiritualité, elle devient une arme redoutable contre tous les problèmes qui se dressent sur votre chemin.

Elle peut acceder à un autre système de connaissance auquel peu d'homme peuvent prétendre.

Si nous la traitons bien et la considérons comme un cadeau Divin dans notre vie, elle développera toutes ces capacités et nous en serons les premiers bénéficiaires.

Ce sont nos Poto mutants

Ce sont nos Princesses

Ce sont nos Reines

Et ce sont nos Mères

LES MAINS QUI DÉMANGENT : UN SIGNE QUE LES ANCIENS CONNAISSAIENT DÉJÀ

Quand la paume de la main se met soudain à démanger, beaucoup savent que ce n’est pas toujours un simple hasard. Depuis longtemps, nos anciens disent que les paumes des mains sont liées au mouvement de l’argent et de la chance dans la vie.

Pour beaucoup d’entre nous, ce n’est pas une découverte.

Nos grands-parents racontaient déjà que le corps peut parfois nous prévenir de certaines choses.

Lorsque la main droite démange, celle qui donne et qui dépense, on dit souvent que cela peut annoncer une sortie d’argent : une dépense imprévue, une réparation, ou une obligation financière.

C’est pour cela que certaines personnes frottent la paume contre du bois.

Le bois symbolise l’élément terre, la stabilité, et l’on pense qu’il aide à calmer ou stabiliser cette énergie.

Mais si c’est la main gauche qui démange, celle qui reçoit, on dit que cela peut annoncer une entrée d’argent : un remboursement, une opportunité, une surprise financière.

Certaines traditions disent même qu’il vaut mieux ne pas gratter la paume, mais fermer doucement la main comme si l’on gardait déjà l’abondance qui arrive.

Que l’on y croie ou non, une chose reste certaine :

la sagesse des anciens malgaches nous a toujours appris à observer les petits signes de la vie.

Car parfois, le corps et l’esprit ressentent certaines choses bien avant que l’esprit rationnel ne les comprenne.

Front Porch Devotion

I am a grown woman now—

hips full of memory,

hands smelling of sage, tobacco, and time.

The world has tried me like iron in the fire,

but I did not break.

I bent toward the ancestors

and they bent back toward me.

Every morning I sweep my porch

from east to west,

speaking softly to the dust:

Big Mama… Big Daddy…

walk with me today.

Big Mama sits heavy in my spirit,

strong as a cast-iron skillet,

apron smelling of red pepper and prayer.

She hums old songs

that sound like church bells

and train whistles

carrying freedom through the night.

Big Daddy stands tall behind her,

Bible worn like an old pair of boots,

voice deep as thunder rolling over pine trees.

He don’t say much—

but when he do

the wind listens.

I keep their colors close:

red for the blood that survived,

white for the spirits that guide.

A rolling pin rests near my altar

not just for bread

but for the work of protection.

And Lord knows,

there’s a shotgun in the corner too—

because Big Mama taught me

faith and defense

can live in the same house.

When the night gets heavy

and the world forgets my worth,

I light a candle

and feel them rocking beside me

like elders on a wooden porch swing.

They whisper through the flame:

Child, you are not alone.

You are the prayer we answered.

So I walk this road steady,

feet planted in red North Carolina red clay

and Maryland river mud alike,

a daughter of root and spirit.

Devoted.

Protected.

Remembering.

Because a Hoodoo woman knows—

As long as Big Mama’s humming

and Big Daddy’s watching the door,

no darkness

can claim this house. 🔥✨

#bigmama #bigdaddy #hoodoo #conjure #rootwork

We had the opportunity to chat with the conjure man for our last issue! Subscribe to us over on Substack!

The Cosmic Thread

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