healing on the mat is a 10 week workshop series for BIPOC survivors wanting to explore the impact of sexual trauma on the mind, body, heart, + spirit; will learn tools that support discovering home in the body, African spirituality as a healing option, and trauma informed yoga/embodiment practice in a small community of survivors. in fact journey #2 in my book body rites is an abbreviated and small bite of healing on the mat.

in violations that occur between humans — particularly in sexual trauma — choice, power, and control are stolen. this can make it feel like you are living in a crime scene. it’s logical to flee the body, to practice forgetting, and to lose connection with the mind as a means of survival. when disembodiment becomes the norm, it can be challenging to sustain sense of presence, to tolerate intense or charged sensations, to notice what’s happening in the body, or how the body is moving in space. this can look like frequently losing track of time, mentally zoning out, having moments where your emotions don’t match the situation, consuming foods that triger reactions in your body, or bumping into furniture/doors open.

trauma informed yoga & embodiment practices help us reclaim what was lost. a dear colleague says “it is a supportive inquiry and invitation for survivors to come into their own bodies, on their own terms” (Yamasaki, 2022). on the mat, I reclaim, I reflect, and make infinite choices and off the mat I put these discoveries to work. I return home to my body, free, and where I belong. I am not alone in this. witnessing the transformation of survivors in the healing on the mat workshop series has been incredibly moving.

survivors that have completed the workshop series have said |

as you are reading, you’re invited to notice sensations of resonance, of being seen, understood. pay attention to those.

you’re encouraged to consider the following writing prompt:

how does your body show and tell you what it’s been through?

if it feels right, you might share in the comments.

and if it feels right, you’re invited to be held by me, into a sweet circle of other BIPOC survivors, for the next cycle of healing on the mat, beginning in September.

here's the link to learn more + sign up. space is limited as there will be no more than 11 folks. there are a few equity scale slots available. for questions, feel free to send me a message through my website included in my substack bio.

with sweetness & deep care,

dr shena.

*body rites excerpts included

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I’m not sure when it started. most of my prayers sound like poems. I just got it like that. my tongue is a being. its tip is attentive, probing, & precise. it’s body moves waters that makes the sounds of my mouth travel & echo. the back & buds a palette for tasting my future when it comes up & out of me. onto ears and into airs, into becoming, floating on gratitude, held as precious by them, ready to be caught.

I talk to them with romance, raw, & true, loosely threaded often times a reflection of my unraveling, unbecoming in their embrace, safely, and speaking one of my languages - poetry, alive prayers pouring out of me. I say & write prayer poems to my ancestors and they talk back in kind, in prose, in a way, that I can recognize without doubt, sweet & direct, personal & exact, affirming, challenging, questioning, loving, supporting, instructing, adoring.

our darling,

this is how they greet me. how they see me. no one else has called me that.

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it’s true. I can be a ding bat sometimes. in general, but especially spiritually. I like intensity and sometimes if it’s less than that, I miss it or second guess it. I am a fervent and persistent work in process with this aaaannd, I’m grateful to have a spirit squad that gets me and meets me where I’m at. I like to imagine them shaking their heads in amusement, saying things like “lil girl” or the classic that I heard growing up, “you’re too smart for your own good shena” in response. maybe they take turns or plot and plan together how they will be extra for me so the message is received. maybe they see it as a workout we do together to strengthen my spiritual knowing, my psychic powers, my channeling physique, and my conjuring muscles.

as I am deepening and steeping in my potency and becoming more sensitive to attuning to the intangible worlds, realms, signals, & symbols within my reach, I am maturing out of requiring intensity as a thing that makes it real or true. I love that for me as a more powerful existence, as an embodied measurement of my ability to trust myself and to trust the support I have all around me.

and yet, I enjoy the growing collection of moments & stories, where they pull up with extra toppings, tricks, & treats. here’s one of my faves.

over a decade ago…

I was desperate for another living situation. I was feeling suffocated where I was and needed a quick change of space. I was a doctoral intern on a doctoral intern budget in Los Angeles, a city I knew no one. I took a weekend trip to meet my godfamily in Phoenix and was excited to take the lead on a hiking outing for all of us. the time came and everyone bailed. I was disappointed but determined and I knew how to roll solo. I made my way to the trail, put my headphones on and started my journey. earlier that week, the self titled Beyonce album had dropped, and I was eager to get into it. I’m walking & bopping, ‘I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker’…wayment. this ain’t how I move. lil girl, take them headphones off.

I sighed.

I was distracting myself.

distracting myself from the disappointment of being let down by my godfamily.

distracting myself from feeling alone.

distracting myself from the responsibility & opportunity I had to myself in nature to work through & conjure.

I walked myself into my body. at first feeling my feet land heavy on the ground, seeing my groveling in the red dust being kicked up. I softened in the familiar sound and percussion of feet connecting with the earth, I heard my breath in between my ears, and my heart resting in a quickened pace. okay. here I am. the sun is on me. how do I want to be right now?

I decided quickly. I wanted to talk. I needed to talk — to no one in particular at first, turned into talking to myself, turned into a walking prayer, to my ancestors, to the Gods, to my higher self, to the nature beings witnessing and coexisting with me in the moment. big sigh.

this is so beautiful. I love hearing the sound of my feet pressing into the dirt. silence.

exhale. you’re here. you’re so brave. you kept your word to yourself, even though it meant walking alone. I don’t feel so alone right now. the sun feels so good. so much to say, so much happening. so much to make space for. who’s listening? who’s here? inhale. I need a place to live. one bedroom or large studio. urban lofty vibes. exposed brick. walkable in Long Beach. good neighbors. dog friendly. lots of natural light. exhale. I’d like to find it within the next two weeks and move in by the beginning of the year (about a month later). and y’all….you know i can be dingy. please give me a sign. be extra with it. so I know it’s y’all. so i know it’s real, it’s what’s for me. aye & ase.

later that week, I came across a spot on craigslist. (yes, I said craigslist. move along, nothing to see here). the description and the couple of photos had all the things I talked with them about, I had to see it. the apartment was on the eleventh floor of a historical building in downtown Long Beach with a partial view of the ocean from my, I mean, the balcony. I scheduled a meeting with the owner, Tyler, a chef with a boho aesthetic. he was kind and lovely. he and his dog gave me a tour and I knew & felt all over me this was the place. we ended up talking and hanging out for over an hour. he confirmed that the apartment would be available for move-in end of the year. we made plans for lease signing and I began making my exit. on the way out, I kneeled down for a lil snuggle debrief with the pup, a big furry thing. “she’s beautiful,” I said, “such a gentle presence, what’s her name?” there’s a long silence. I look up at him from beside the dog, he says, “her name is Sheena.” me, “what? no way. really?” now laughing and crying hysterically, hugging the dog. he said with tears in his eyes, “I know, it was a sign for me too.”

the bitch had my name. they are so extra for me.

I moved in a couple of weeks later. stayed there during one of the biggest transitions of my life. nine months later, I moved into an apartment down the hall. I had no idea that altogether, those two 11th floor units in that building would be the longest I’ve lived anywhere consecutively for my entire life up to that point. that I would create stability and safety for myself. that me and my beloved dog, zoe, would be happy there for 5 years.

I love the intimacy of moments like that with my ancestors. that they meet me where I am, and that they make me feel so special and seen in showing me that they know who I am, how I am, & how to love me. that when/if I slip into doubting that there’s anyone out there, they do the most to remind me how close they are with humor, with grandiosity, whimsy, & wonder.

thank you spirit of me, spirit of them, spirit of creation.

in extraness…

we’ve had international dates in Costa Rica & Mexico and I don’t be traveling with everybody. I gotta know you, you feel me? but I go where the sweetness is. where spirit says. and I follow the bees.

I’ve been stung three times since we took our relationship to the next level. I had never been stung before that. I’ve tended to think it was a misunderstanding the first two times. the first time I was in Ojai for my birthday trip & solo ninos santos/mushroom ceremony. I was driving and she swooped in and landed on the back of my arm, it tickled and as I reached back, she got me. I cried and said I’m sorry as I scooped her out of the car and onto the ground so the mortuary bee could find her. the second time —lawd, that’s a whole storytime series from the Costa Rican jungle. and the most recent time was this week sitting poolside catching a cute lil vibe with ya girl on a hot humid day in Mexico. not a misunderstanding…and even as my side is swollen & red, the medicine is moving me, mostly through some combination of backlogged tears and feeling deeply seated in myself.

claro, my stories got stories, let me get back to the one for today. so, that one time I discovered a beehive in my wall. in a recent conjuring honey love note, I shared about the courting phase of my relationship with the bae-bees. when a girly bee would pull up on me for tea dates every morning for about a week. time is weird so I’m not sure how long after that it was, but I was walking to my apartment having just parked my car on 4th ave in Leimert Park. some bees encircled me as I got closer to my building, “hi y’all!” I said out loud. they flew up & away, seemingly satisfied with my greeting. I followed them with my gaze, two floors up, right outside my living room-office window! I stood there for a while just watching bees fly in and out of a tiny hole in the wall. OH MY GODSSSS! jumping up and down, in awe, in reverence, in tears (I be crying…) what are the odds?!

I ran upstairs, sat at my desk and closed my eyes.

what is there to feel, to sense, to know, to hear?

for the first time I could hear the hive buzzing. I put my hand against the wall, it was warm and I could feel the vibration from their collective hum. I could feel my spirit rippling and twinkling. it was so gorgeously overwhelming. now if you know me, you know I’m an intense fairy-bookie. this is my kinda shiiiit. the kinda stuff that happens to me regularly that people don’t always believe at first (I be having receipts tho). a couple of the reasons why so many beloveds encouraged me to start my substack & youtube channel. and in all truth, I can be a lil spiritually dingy sometimes — so spirit in all the forms understand the assignment — we gotta be extra with her. and do….

so boom, now I know there’s a hive in the wall. I want to keep em close, and so I do for a while. they became a part of my daily rituals and supported me through my work day. they were literally posted up in the wall that my desk touched. they were my co-therapists and helped me hold and alchemize some heavy life things. on a spiritual note, I was maturing toward my Osun initiation and we was thick in love too. there is no separation. they are sovereign entities, the bees & Osun, AND there is no separation.

may there be sweetness in my house, sweetness in my work, may sweetness greet me, when I feel alone may I remember that I am not, may I be greeted with the energy of beeing loved, seen, and beelonging. may I be held by the mother that drips honey and changes landscapes with her waters. may I find home wherever I choose to BEe.

whimsical, yes. not for play play tho. I’m grateful to have been able to hold both. the whimsy & to recognize the pivotal contagion. to say my prayers, to keep the story to myself until it was time to share it, to listen deeply with all of me. to let myself BEcome fiercely.

sheesh! the way the memory lives in me, has me slipping into sacred space right quick, as I write to whoever finds themselves reading this. these prayers I prayed for me, these prayers I pray for you.

aight, so I knew that being inside the structure of an old apartment building, growing the hive, was not the safest thing for them. did I like the idea of a giant hive dripping honey in the walls of my refuge, yes. and clearly they chose to be there. but now we go together so I had to consider what was best for all of us. I contacted my landlord and told him what was going on and requested a live (humane) bee removal, no toxic chemicals, no bae-bees left behind, and no dead bees. without bees we can’t live as humans. and also, I love them & they love me. He didn’t fight me on it & I’m eternally grateful.

the big day came, and I watched up close from my window, enamored, emotional, in reverence, and in awe (still!). assessing from outside, he used thermal imagery to determine the size & approximate age of the hive from the outside and inside of my apartment. he vacuumed all the bees into a box for safekeeping & transport to their bee-farm, and lastly removed the honeycomb. y’all. (wait, I need to take a moment to shed these libation tears…brb)

my Godsss. this is a true story. there is whimsy. and magic. and Afrofantasy, and spirit, and becoming. may you be wide eyed enough to recognize your moments, your guides, & your personal lore.

during the pandemic backlit by political violence & police targeting Black bodies, daily life was so different. in some ways busier, rapid, frenetic — I worked a lot, and work was a lot. holding safe place for the Black experience in that moment in time across identity constellations was one of the most difficult periods in my career. most I knew were grieving, afraid, furious, hopeless…including me. people were holding on for life.

and my mornings were so gently slow. it felt like I was living in alternate realities, daily, and within a span of a couple of hours. I started sitting on my patio every morning, with a cup of homemade hibiscus tea, a splash of a sweet non-dairy creamer, and a generous swirl of honey. I’d sit and sip my tea, and drink in the unusual stillness of my street, one of the best in my Leimert Park neighborhood. while I missed the sounds of Blackness bustling during rush hour, the chatter of early morning walks for school drop off, echoes of Tevin Campbell, Steve Harvey, & Tasha Cobbs; the drivers singing, laughing, praising in tandem, the middle aged man-passerby affirming himself out loud, a long press on a car horn, followed by a couple of cuss words exchanged, and anti-climatic rubber spinning on the pavement. instead, it was nearly silent. and so I’d sit and look and breathe in the unusual fresh air.

one morning, a bee approached. she flew up to me like we knew each other. first, hovering face to face, inches in front of my nose, she’d scoot-fly a little diagonal to the left, then to the right - like towards my left ear, then my right and back to the center. she was so close I could hear her singular buzz. it felt like she was sniffing me. giving me a once over to feel out my frequency. I felt like I was being seen, like literally the action & process of being taken in. I had long been curious about bees, as a little girl would run toward patches of flowers with bees being in them. I’d come on strong and then ease up, tip toeing, squatting down to see if I could see what they saw in a flower. I’d sometimes pluck from the earth a flower with a bee inside of it and put it up to my nose to smell what they smell, and then lift the flower up to the sky to help the bee take flight. I asked them questions, I told them I wasn’t afraid to be close to them, and that I hoped that they wouldn’t sting me. “I’m your friend,” I’d say. all that time, I was never stung. all this to say, that when the morning bee approached, I was curious and intrigued, not afraid.

that same moment happened for consecutive days for about a week, same time, every morning. she would fly in and face me, scoot-fly to my left & right and then back to the center to see me. except, it went from feeling like some sort of introduction-reunion thing to a morning blessing-date thing. I am confident that it was the same bee each time.

within a week or two of that first encounter I learned two things that would change me forever. and ultimately, guide me in life.

one - this bee’s family had made a new hive in the wall of my apartment right at my desk, where I worked. Ima tell y’all that story here on my youtube channel soon.

two - I learned that bees have human facial recognition abilities.

wow. this blew my mind. there were a number of serendipitous highly concentrated instances with bees happening in a short span of a tumultuous time. naturally, I am not a coincidence girly. I almost always know and position myself for a message. my life has been so full of whimsy and magic and spiritual intervention that a lot of times, it’s my first instinct.

I went to curious work —

I found myself thinking - why would God give these creatures the ability to recognize human faces? what does that say that with such a short life, often about 52 days (much of which is spent inside the hive) that they can see & recognize humans? what does it say about the relationship we are intended to have, the intimacy. I get it now. there is no life without bees. we simply cannot survive without them.

I stretched out the curiosity, more personally - what is here for me? what is there to see? to hear? to know? to sense? to remember? to receive? to give? these questions live inside rent free, to get me free.

you catching this driiiip? open your honey jars sweet thangs.

the answers are still coming. even as I write this 5 years later, I am being affirmed for what I came to know and inspired by what I see now (in this very instance) that I didn’t then. the sweetness of being ushered into an undeniable, life changing stickiness, and coating of belonging with the bees. messages about community (even as I am nursing community wounding), trusting my intuition, repairing holes in my vibration, the bees as an entity/as companions of Osun, and designing a life of sweetness, perpetually buzz and regenerate inside me.

what came next, more honey, more conjuring, more serendipity, heavy on the whimsy, and a big Afro-futuristic-ancestral-ass leap, guided by the bees. I got all the stories to tell of my time with them and in reverence of them. stay close, and bring your honey jars to catch this luscious drip.

- dr shena.

some of my earlier travel experiences were very influenced by what it seemed travel was supposed to be. all inclusive resort style, disconnected from the local people, culture, and real pulse of the places. don’t get me wrong, I can still appreciate a resort experience here and there, but once you see things, once you become conscious of meticulous oppressive designs, you can’t unsee it. you can pretend you didn’t and then collude but that’s another post for another time. I chose and choose to see, & to forge another path.

the way I began traveling started to mimic the way I live my life, I did it my way. said fuck the blueprint and created my own. I started solo traveling. and yes, people would project their fears onto me or try to talk me out of it, for whatever the reasons. and I did it anyway. I’m so glad I did.

my time in Portland Parish, Jamaica some years ago was life changing and still very much alive in me. it’s etched on my timeline as an initiation into slow & intuitive travel as a portal of liberation, remembrance, authenticity, presence, and supernatural attunement. I had been noticing all the signs of Jamaica — it just kept coming up. I had been there before, stayed in a resort in my 20s, did a guided excursion, and right back to the inside — “where it was safe.” this time, I set my heart on an extended one month trip, the longest I had been able to stay in another country. I tuned into myself and all the lil love notes & nudges my eyes were wide open to. I found myself craving being tucked into the mountains & very near a river. as I reflected on it, I understood it. I had been spending a lot of time hiking. but it was deeper than that.

in my spiritual practice, I was experiencing deepening intimacy & support from Osun & Ogun, two Orisa within the Ifa/Yoruba pantheon. they are at home and govern fresh waters - rivers, streams, & lakes & the forest, respectively. Osun, the Orisa of love, sensuality, beauty, fertility and Ogun the warrior of truth & justice, the protector, and path clearer. this made intuitive sense to me, that if I wanted to feel at home, safe, protected, and inside of a cocoon to truly BE with me and all that the moment, lands, & time had for me; that being in the forest & rivers was exactly the place. everything else unfolded in magical ways from there. Imagine — a place popping up on my airBnB search - Our Escape - unspoiled twenty acres, off the grid, tucked into the Blue Mountains, deep in the bush, with a private river! I felt the confirmation in my body, warm in my belly, butterflies in my chest, tears pooling in my eyes.

and yet I couldn’t have imagined what was to come. it changed my life. it changed me. this was not a vacation, in part because I was writing my debut book, body rites: a holistic healing & embodiment workbook for Black survivors, but also because I was in a profoundly potent cocoon, shedding, & rebirthing myself. one night, I was standing on a bridge over the river with my new lifelong friend, a Rasta named McKinley, a soul mate. I was somehow full of joy & weeping sad tears at the same time. I said, Rasta, I wish I could feel like this where I live — whole, happy, full. I explained, “I’m not as free at home as I am here. It’s the elements, being here with myself, owning my time.” He came closer to me, touching the center of my chest with his index finger, his mouth to my ear and said, it’s not where you are, it’s who you are, it’s inside you, thickly coated with his wealthy accent. I sobbed. tears into the shushing river I had made daily offerings to, under the moonlight, and held by the lands, and the wisdom of my friend.

that moment, was one of a few he poured into me, that quite literally meant I was a different me when it was time to leave. you’re invited to storytiime about some of my moments on that trip (& with him) on the conjuring honey youtube channel. my next stop Montego Bay, right on the water and into the expansiveness of the ocean, Yemoja, the great nurturer. Initially, I was overwhelmed by the contrast of spaciousness and vastness and the awareness of infinite possibilities, after having been so tucked in. I slept hard. I soaked in her salted waters, rocked, held up, I sang to her, I played, & prayed for courage mainly. to be the person I was becoming with every swelling & receding dance of the waters. again, I cried myself into the sea, and into me.

in a world where travel is about the instagrammable clips, the not so humble brags, and exploitation of sacred lands/cultures, I want to invite you into a way of slowing it down (even if you only have a few days in a place) and letting it be what you need it to BE. a way to be in relationship with where you are and who you are - mind, body, heart, & spirit. my wisdom is potent, slow, comes through my own experiences, and is often channeled.

I talk about intuition a lot. I see it as our very own sacred unique portal to the divine. when we know how to feel, hear, be in intimate relationship with it, we can shape our experiences more authentically. in the travel space, this can be quite medicinal, as we end up getting what we need from our time, open ourselves up to receiving what a place has to offer us, and most importantly we get closer to ourselves. I have some tips for how to choose your vacation/travel destiny places intuitively.

you’re encouraged to try them on and see what fits.

• get in touch with your intuition. do you know where it lives in your body? what does it sound like? what sensations do you feel when it’s speaking to you?

• make some time to feel into what you need from time away? quiet, adventure, pleasure, social connection, time alone.... you might ask yourself — how do I want to feel on my trip?

• if you have a meditation practice, you might consider sitting and visualizing a physical place, listening for sounds, or observing sensations with the intention of inviting clarity about where to go. maybe this happens in one sit, or maybe it takes a few times.

• take some time to journal or draw about it. make note of anything that stands out or seems especially vivid or peculiar.

• l i s t e n...pay close attention to what happens next, imminently and in the following days or weeks. spirit can be really loud or subtle. where do your thoughts take you? any particular places or countries seem to be drawing you and your heart in?

• start your research and look for the signs + symbols of your visualizations. watch closely for moments you feel those similar intuitive feelings/sensations.

• make space for trust, move the doubt and skepticism aside.

I know...it’s such a different way of traveling, beginning with ritual. I’m thrilled for your discoveries to come and also your tips! you’re invited to share how you travel intuitively + your stories of being chosen by a place in the comments. catch you in the honey drip…

sweetly conjuring,

— dr shena.

this has been a long time coming.

this has come through life living, loving.

through healing & being.

I’m overjoyed for this space that has been conjured and is conjuring.

this space that is timeless, straddles timelines & realms, and creates openings to multiverses and portals.

a place for love notes on whimsical embodied healing, sweet storytelling moments, and becoming in nature, in spirit, & in global living.

channeled & written by me, sheesh or dr shena depending on how you know me. I’m looking forward to how you get to know me. I’m counting on you getting to know you, deeper, truer, sensationally, ancestrally. for bringing your potent pollen here to conjure honey together.

for witnessing this space take shape, over time.

I pushed through a lot to arrive here. I’m a super private person and I yearn for the days past where it was just you, whoever was there, and the moment. before social media, before everyone had their cameras out all the time, before the moments were about creating content, waiting for a love note to arrive in the mail, before we could send & delete, send & edit, when life was more raw. maybe I sound like an auntie - & is, maybe I sound like a lovergirl - & is that too. that nostalgia is with me wherever I go, a co-pilot in all my experiences and I think that’s one reason why they feel so special. that’s part of the medicine I have to share here, and a big catalyst for me finally saying yes. (and all y’all who have been asking me for this, better subscribe too, lol)

I got some stories to tell and so many things to show you from my journey, that will feel like you are reading a magical realism novel; where the presence of spirit in some way shape or form is undeniable. I will show you my ways of intuitive travel and global living as a path to remembrance, self determination, and freedom. I will obsess about bees as they are wisdom Gods in my eyes, and my most precious muse. I will help you stock up your tool kits for navigating these times, and that call you into whole self futuristic living.

I’ma talk so sweet to you….

while my publication is new to substack, I come with ancient wisdom in modern times, and I conjure honey like nobody’s business. I ain’t new to this revolution. I encourage you to subscribe with that in mind and in the gift exchange that this lil sweet spot is. when you subscribe, you’ll receive my first gift, a peaceful sacred place meditation guided by me for a nervous system pause you can return to as much as you’d like. catch you in the drip.

— dr shena.

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