My ancestors guide me
My ancestors protect me
Thinking about my ancestors bring up a deep sense of connection, an awakening of primal energy, a magick that has neither substance nor location, a knowingness that carries me to a different world.
The Dark Mother watches over me. She watches over everyone. She is the Keeper of Keys who inhabits and rules over liminal spaces.
My first lived experience of liminality was when my father was getting ready to pass away. When he was in the hospital, mum and I will visit him by taking the bus. I was enamored by the idea of taking buses. From my childhood through college, mum and I will take buses everywhere in Seattle. And the Dark Mother would watch over us.
When mum passed away, I continued to take buses recreationally to honor her and her spirit. Mum moved on to a different world, the Spirit World. Little did I know that in getting to know the Dark Mother Hekate two years ago, public transport is one of her domains.
I returned to Seattle for one summer after my first year of graduate school in Minneapolis. I was riding the Woodinville express bus sitting in one of the rear-facing seats in the middle of the bus. I wondered to myself—What if mum is sitting next to me right now? That was one of the many times I sat on a bus and thought about my ancestors.
The bus is my altar. New Flyer, Gillig, Glavel, whatever. It is in these liminal spaces (and more) that I find joy and magick in my life. This is why I embrace my liminality. The cost of ignoring my spiritual calling towards liminality is too great. The stakes of my practice is to dismantle the presumption that the worlds we inhabit—whether the institutions on this plane of existence or spaces of spiritual passage in the next—are stable and immutable. It is through embracing liminality that we can create and inhabit new worlds that are grounded in our lived experiences and sense of connection with our communities, deities, ancestors, land, the elements, human beings, and other-than-human beings.
Incognito Transit 