🕯️Spiritual Cleanup: A Ritual for When Something Knocked—and Stayed

-

 

Whether you accidentally called in a sticky spirit with a fictional spell, got more than you bargained for in a moment of grief or curiosity, or just feel that something is hanging around your energy like an unwanted houseguest—you’re gonna need a ritual that doesn’t just sage it and hope for the best.

This is a no-nonsense spiritual eviction notice, dressed in incense and iron. Let’s get rid of what’s lingering.

🕯️Spiritual Cleanup: A Ritual for When Something Knocked—and Stayed

This ritual is for when you feel watched, drained, confused, haunted, or just off after doing spiritual work (especially the kind that didn’t include boundaries). It clears energy, cuts cords, and tells spiritual squatters it’s time to GTFO.

🔧 What You’ll Need:

  • A small iron item (nail, railroad spike, key, horseshoe, even a cast iron pan if you're bold)

  • A black candle (white works in a pinch)

  • A bowl of salt water (sea salt preferred)

  • A cleansing smoke (mugwort, rosemary, or copal; sage only if it’s your cultural tradition)

  • A broom or besom (any broom will do, we’re evicting, not decorating)

  • A spoken voice (this is not a silent ritual)

  • Optional: your favorite protection oil (Fiery Wall of Protection, War Water, or your own blend)

🌀 Prep the Space

  • Turn off distractions. Phones, TVs, weird background noise—gone.

  • Open a window or door. Yes, even in the winter. Spirits need an exit.

  • Stand barefoot if possible. Ground yourself. You’re the living one in this house.

🔥 Step 1: Light the Fire

Light your black candle, saying:

“I call on the light to reveal what hides.
What is not mine must now be seen.
What is not welcome must now leave.”

Let the flame burn strong. You are not afraid. You are done.

🧂 Step 2: Cleanse with Salt and Smoke

Dip your fingers into the salt water, then flick it in the corners of the room (especially near doors and mirrors). As you do, say:

“Salt of the earth, wash away what clings.
Cleanse this space, body, and soul.
What is not mine, begone.”

Next, light your smoke and waft it into corners, under furniture, around mirrors, windows, and your altar. Don’t forget closets and under the bed. You’re not leaving anywhere for a hitchhiker to hide.

As you do this, say:

“I cleanse with smoke what salt has touched.
This space is mine. This soul is mine.
By ash and herb, no trespass stands.”

🪓 Step 3: Cut the Cord

Hold your iron object in both hands. Close your eyes. Imagine any threads or cords that feel attached to you—especially from rituals, dreams, or odd encounters.

Say aloud (firmly):

“I cut the cord. I close the gate.
No more feeding, no more fate.
This bond is broken, this link undone.
Your time is over. Be gone, be gone.”

If you feel an area of your body heavy or tight (shoulders, belly, back of the neck)—pass the iron object over it like a magnet pulling sludge.

Then place the iron at your doorway or near your bed. Let it guard.

🧹 Step 4: Sweep the House

Take your broom and literally sweep your floors—especially threshold areas and corners. As you do, say:

“Out you go, down the line,
Out with dust and out with grime.
No more hiding in my walls,
No more whispers, no more calls.
Leave this house and cross the land,
You are not welcome, you will not stand.”

Sweep toward the open door or window. If you’re feeling extra fierce, sprinkle a line of salt across the threshold and sweep over it to symbolically push out what clings.

🛡️ Step 5: Seal and Shield

Close your open windows and doors. Take a few drops of your protection oil and anoint:

  • Your front and back doors

  • Windowsills

  • The soles of your feet

  • Your third eye (or the back of your neck if that feels safer)

As you do, say:

“This house is sealed. This body is sacred.
Only love, only peace, only mine may remain.”

Let the candle burn down safely or snuff it with gratitude.

💬 Aftercare: You Might Feel Lighter—or Weepy

That’s normal. Spiritual debris can leave you feeling cracked open. Drink water. Eat grounding food. Take a bath with epsom salt and rosemary. Sleep. And maybe journal if you get weird dreams—they often carry the final echoes of what’s been released.

✋ When to Repeat It

  • If you did a fictional or channeled spell that left you drained or haunted

  • After working with unknown spirits or trying new magical systems

  • After a spiritual experience that left you feeling foggy, fearful, or watched

  • When you feel something is clinging to your home or aura that doesn’t belong

🖤 Final Thought: You Don’t Owe Spirits Hospitality

This is your body. Your home. Your energy.
You don’t have to be polite to spirits who overstay. You don’t have to appease something that entered uninvited. You don’t have to “learn the lesson” from an energy that feeds on fear.

Sometimes, the most magical thing you can do is say:
“No. Not today. Not ever again.”

And mean it.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

🔥 The Torchbearers: A Call to the Witches Who Stayed

-
Image
  This isn’t for the trend-chasers. This isn’t for the moon-phase influencers, the aesthetic covens, or the ones who skimmed a Llewellyn book and declared themselves a High Priestess on Tuesday. This is for the ones who stayed . The witches who ran public rituals and built community spaces on shoestring budgets. The ones who got their degrees in theology, anthropology, history—anything to understand the bones of what we do. The ones who studied by candlelight, held circles in basements and backyards, and never once filmed themselves doing it for clout. You know who you are. You’ve been looked down on for not dressing the part. For stepping outside in jeans and a t-shirt instead of flowing robes and Instagram filters. For walking through metaphysical shops and not needing to announce your power—because it lives in your bones. You’ve had fifteen-year-olds talk over you on social media, dismissing your decades of practice because they watched a tarot video or learned abo...
Read more
-
Image
  Missing My Circle Under a Distant Moon There’s a certain kind of homesickness that doesn’t have a zip code. I’ve been thinking about my circle back in Kansas City—the women and men who held space with me, cast with me, wept, and laughed under the same sky with me. The ones who passed the salt with the tequila with the exact same reverence as a sacred chalice, who knew the exact moment a spell had landed by the goosebumps on their arms. My witches. My soul family. I miss them more than I expected. It hits me in strange ways. Like when I see the moon at her fullest, glowing behind the evergreens here in Washington, and I instinctively reach for my phone to text someone in the group— "Are you feeling this too?" But we’re scattered now. Different time zones. Different lives. Still tethered, but not in the same room, not around the same altars or fire pits. Back in Kansas City, we’d gather around tables cluttered with gaming decks, tarot decks, bundles of drying herbs, and ...
Read more

Who the Hell Am I?

-
Image
🌿 Who the Hell Am I? I’m a Gen X witch with dirt under my nails, fire in my gut, and a sharp tongue that’s survived decades of bullshit—and isn’t done talking yet. I walk the crooked path with a pocket full of herbs, a heart full of ancestral memory, and a deep, simmering refusal to play nice for the sake of anyone’s comfort. My practice is rooted in earth medicine and rebellion—because I believe healing and resistance are intertwined. I blend old-world magic with modern-day grit, call on the spirits, trust the plants, and speak truth even when my voice shakes (and trust me, sometimes it does—rage and grief both live here). I’m an herbalist by calling, an activist by necessity, and a smart-ass by birthright. I don’t do love-and-light unless it’s flickering over the ruins of outdated systems. I honor the sacred, but I don’t bow to gurus. I honor the ancestors, but I don’t romanticize the past. I honor the plants, the land, the stories—and I try not to take myself too seriously in th...
Read more