My spiritual circle is small. Intimate. Intentional. And I thank the Divine every day for weaving together this tapestry of kindreds—seers who walk Spirit-first, unfettered by dogma or religious performance. Among them is my godbrother. We make it a point to talk 3–4 times a month. While we may call just to “catch up,” it rarely stays there. Our conversations almost always become sacred spaces—exchanging wisdom, lifting one another’s Spirit, and speaking life into the divine within us. Let me pause here and say: if you don’t have a circle like this, you’re missing out. Real spiritual love rarely lives in a crowd. It’s 2 or 3 deep, strong, and rooted. If you’re longing for that, pray for it. Call it in. That kind of soul-kinship is worth everything.
On one recent Sunday, we were catching up while I cooked—my sacred weekend ritual for the past eight years. During the week, I eat for function: protein and greens, something quick. But Sundays are for slowing down and letting the kitchen become an altar. I’ll dig through Pinterest for inspiration, sip wine (or more than a glass if I’m feeling it), and lose myself in a recipe full of layers, textures, spice blends, and Spirit. It’s also the day I rewatch Scandal, reflect on the week ahead, and talk to the men in my life who embody divine masculine energy—protectors, cheerleaders, mirrors.
This particular Sunday, I was craving curry. But not just any curry—I wanted something meatless, something earthy. Chickpeas were calling me. Loud. So I searched for a recipe I would fully ignore, because let’s be real—I cook intuitively. I season how I feel. That’s my joy. That’s my magic.While we talked, my godbrother said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“Sis, start commanding the food you cook to be a tool for healing. Call in what you want to manifest through your meals.”
Whew. That landed like a brick—soft, but solid. I looked at my ingredients: onion, garlic, cilantro, chickpeas. I reached for my spice rack—cumin, turmeric, coriander, smoked paprika, garam masala. Coconut cream. Black rice. And I had to ask myself: what is my body trying to say? What is my Spirit craving—emotionally, physically, spiritually? We talk all the time about food being medicine, but this moment pushed me deeper. Spirit is always speaking. And as the veil thins, we’re being nudged to pay closer attention—yes, even to our cravings. So me, being me, I sat down afterward and nerded out—researching the spiritual properties of the ingredients I used. Here’s a glimpse of what I found:
From this impromptu “reading” came several messages from Spirit:
These were not revelations—they were confirmations. Spirit had already whispered them; now I was just tasting them. This whole experience reminded me: we already carry within us everything we need for life and godliness. You don’t always need another reading or a new spiritual teacher. The most powerful guide you have is already within. My most profound revelations haven’t come from outside sources—they’ve come when I got quiet, grounded, and trusted my own knowing. So, if this resonates with you, here are four steps to begin turning your cravings into conversations with Spirit:
Don’t rush to dismiss what your body is asking for. We’ve been conditioned to override cravings, which leads to imbalance and shame. Instead, sit with them. Salty might mean you need cleansing. Sweet might signal a need for self-love. Savory could be calling you to broaden your approach to life. Spicy might mean your Spirit is asking you to truly live—not just exist.
Once you’ve identified the flavor or food you crave, go explore. Search for recipes that align with it. Check menus. Ask yourself why this dish is calling you. Open yourself to what Spirit might be saying through your taste buds.
As you cook, speak life into your ingredients. Look up their spiritual meanings. Pray over them. Let your intentions guide your hand as you chop, stir, and season. You’re not just feeding your body—you’re nourishing your Spirit.
Keep a running list of your most-used ingredients and their spiritual meanings. Put it on your fridge, next to your stove, or inside your spiritual journal. Mine lives in my Queen of Brewings and Brujería journal. Your kitchen is your first altar. Your body is your first temple.
This shift changed something in me. I ate that curry and black rice for three days straight. That week, without smoothies or fasting, my body detoxed. I followed through on the commitments I made to myself. I connected to the Divine daily. My workouts became meditative. My intentions were clear. And that is the kind of magic I want for you. Not as a rulebook. Not as another trend. But as a tool. A sacred practice. A pathway to spiritual sovereignty. You deserve to be that attuned. That connected. That loved.
With you, in growth and grace,
Jeanetta