A good friend of mine died recently and left some of her magical items, including a pot dedicated to the Orisha Olokun, who lives in the depths of the ocean. I took the pot home, safely wrapped in a plastic bag, ready to mail it to a friend who is a Yoruba priestess. She told me: “be careful and don’t spill the contents of the pot.” The pot made it home with me, unscathed. Then when I put it in the back of the car to take the the pack-n-mail, she (I seem to want to call this pot a “she”) fell over and the liquid contents spilled into the plastic bag. I called my friend and said, “what do I do?” She told me to take it to the river, to Oshun, and pour the contents out into Her arms so she would then take Olokun to Yemaya, the ocean.
I stopped by the co-op for white roses and headed out to the Rio Grande Nature Center State Park here in Albuquerque and waded out into the Rio Grande. I sang a song to Oshun, asking her to take the contents of this pot into Her arms, and carry her safely to Yemaya. I then put the rose petals adrift in the river.
Priestessing leads one on many odd little trails, and I am grateful She lead me here