I didn’t meet my spiritual path through a teacher, a temple, or a tarot card.
I met it through movies.
Long before I ever held a crystal or walked into the spiritual section of a bookstore, I was watching The Craft on a rainy night, completely captivated by four teenage girls who weren’t just misfits, they were magic. Their power wasn’t metaphorical. It was ancestral. Elemental. Real.
Somewhere between their spells and their shadows, I felt a flicker of something inside me.
The same thing happened when I watched Eve’s Bayou. That movie changed me. The lush atmosphere, the whispers of spirits, the conjure women who knew things without being told. It didn’t feel like fiction. It felt like my DNA was remembering something.
Film as Portal, Magic as Mirror
Each film or series that included voodoo, hoodoo, conjure, or even darker magic, like Salem, American Horror Story: Coven, or Charmed, didn’t just entertain me. They activated me.
I’d find myself in bookstores days later, almost magnetically pulled to the spiritual section.
I didn’t even know what I was looking for at first: books about herbs? Egypt? The Goddess?, But I knew that whatever it was, it had already found me.
My past lives were not fantasy, they were lineages.
By the time I reached my late twenties, something deeper started to awaken. The rituals in these stories began to echo something ancient inside me, especially when I started to learn about Kemet, the true, mystical history of Egypt before colonial distortions.
It was there, in the golden sands of that memory, that I began to understand: My past lives were not fantasy, they were lineages.
It Took Time to Trust My Power
I didn’t fully surrender to my gift until 2017.
Before that, it was a slow, intoxicating dance between doubt and desire, a push and pull that kept me circling the truth without ever stepping fully inside it.
My dreams spoke in symbols. My sensitivity refused to be explained away. Still, I searched for permission, as if someone else could confirm what my soul had been whispering all along.
And then, one day, I stopped doubting. I had no choice. I rooted myself deeply in the earth, opened my spirit to my divine team, and made a vow with my angels —a sacred agreement with myself: I will never doubt my intuition again.
Empowerment Through Shadow
Films and shows like Coven didn’t scare me; they strengthened me. They showed women reclaiming their gifts, their voices, their rage. They were messy, flawed, luminous, and they knew how to spin pain into power.
Something is mesmerizing about watching women come into their power and wield it without apology.
These weren’t just characters. They were answers. And somewhere in the flicker of each scene, I saw a different version of myself, not my personality, not my job, but my soul.
I wasn’t being influenced. I was being talked too.
I believe we are all living under a kind of collective spell, one that makes us afraid to recognize the vast power we already hold. But that power isn’t meant to be feared. It’s meant to be used, fiercely, tenderly, and for the good.
It Wasn’t About Belief. It Was About Remembrance.
I didn’t “choose” this path; I remembered it. Not through facts. Not through books. But through a knowing that rose every time I saw a candle lit, a prayer whispered, a circle drawn.
It wasn’t entertainment. It was an initiation.
Eve’s Bayou didn’t teach me about spiritual gifts; it mirrored them back to me. It was like looking into a past life I’d almost forgotten, and recognizing the language as my own.
Love, Mara
PS. I just came across The Ritual — a short film with Regina King, Jennifer Lewis, and Isaiah Washington. And even now, as a professional spiritual worker, movies like this still stir something deep inside me.
