Emerged from a Sea of Red Rose Petals
A series of tales about an enchanted time in New Orleans, Louisiana (Part I)
This tale is Part I of a series of stories about my first time in New Orleans, in 2022. If you read or listen to this story, I encourage you stay for the meditation and writing prompts for important considerations about wellness and spiritual integrity.
I was in New Orleans for the first time, on a whim, sitting behind a Haitian Spiritual Botanica, gathered with at least one hundred others for Fèt Gede, a Voodou festival for “the Sacred Dead;” for ancestors.
I had never experienced a voodoo ceremony before. I was excited, full of wonder. With blossoming curiosity about African diasporic spirituality, searching for myself and for belonging.
Though the invitation said to arrive at 6:30 PM, it was nearing 9:00 PM, and the ceremony had still not begun. (iykyk). An altar, dressed in ornate cloth, stacked with bones, booze, candles, dolls, and fruits and breads, sat unanimated, waiting.
I sat, too; still in the chilling air, with my eyes closed, practicing patience. I focused on my breath to regulate my body temperature. After so long, I must have fell into a trance.
A visitation.
The atmosphere went quiet.
Beneath me, the asphalt buckled, shuffled, morphed into a sea of red rose petals. The sea twitched and birthed a slender figure. It emerged with its head bowed. Its movement intentional, easeful, careful.
With my eyes closed, I watched the slender figure, wearing dark hooded garb, move toward me, drifting over the rose sea. The way the figure progressed without a gait felt at once majestic and eerie.
I felt tall, regal, in its presence. Without looking up, the figure stopped at my feet, placed a newborn baby on my lap. I observed without reacting, determined to suspend my awe for composure. The strange child had no distinctive features, except an unnaturally bright light beaming near its crown.
I had never fell into a vision like this; not so visceral, not so suddenly and not with so many people around. What was happening to me?
The figure abandoned the newborn, turned away from me, disappeared under the red rose sea. And left its garb behind, revealing the figure had been a skeleton, bones without flesh. I stared. I did not engage. I just looked. Watched until the scene became motionless.
“Wow--what was that,” I snapped my eyes open, and the silent vision faded away.
Take Notes, Ask Questions.
I fumbled for my phone, opened my Notes app, and typed the details of the sudden vision:
a sea or lake of red roses
hooded skeleton
black garb
bowing before me with a baby… as an offering?
light for hair
I glanced around. We were still waiting. The evening became resolute and thickened around the crowd. Mothers with impatient children snapped at wit’s end as we all grew chillier. Girlfriends whispered and cackled to one another, passing time. Men in trios and pairs, silent and shuffling, like weaving steeds. And singles looked around curiously and aimlessly.
I was absorbed by the world that had just opened beneath and within me. Like an eager-to-please schoolgirl—researched, practicing, I recalled hearing a psychic medium once say that prophetic visions are not just daydreams or passive experiences, but active communications from a spirit world that one could engage and question. So, curious, I closed my eyes once again.
The red sea returned; untouched, somehow quieter.
Whose baby is this? I asked without words.
No answer.
What is the purpose of this baby? I tried another question.
Sacrifice, an answer rung through my ears without words.
I opened my eyes again, confused. A sacrifice?
A bouquet.
“Is this seat open?” A small woman broke my haze. She was younger than me, maybe in her early twenties. She was sweet. Her energy was geeked, excited; like mine, but more timid, more reserved.
“This seat is for you,” I told her. Her soft had made me smile.
I noticed her arms, and my brows scurried toward one another. She was carrying a bouquet of red roses. Stunned, I whipped my head to meet her eyes as she sat down.
“You brought red roses!”
“I didn’t know what to bring,” she said, and explained this was her first time attending a ceremony like this, too. “So, I just thought flowers would be nice.”
I did not know what to make of the synchronicity of the roses. Something was happening.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” My temperature spiked as I gathered nerves to probe.
“Sure,” her eyes were clear and curious.
“Do you have any children?” I wondered if the child left by the garbed skeleton was hers.
“No,” she laughed. “But it is funny you asked me that…”
The young woman continued on to tell me an intimate story about her life. Her details aligned too neatly with the dramatic vision I just had. In kind, enlivened, I told her about what I had seen, what I thought it all meant.
And to my surprise, this woman thanked me for the wisdom. She believed me, without question—even as I hardly believed myself. And she accepted me with sincere gratitude. It shocked me; changed me. A world was unveiling, one where my spiritual self is accepted as natural.
The ceremony.
As our conversation slowed down to soft giggles and introspection, a boisterous man, dark, beautiful, strong, and dressed in an array of purples, announced himself. He shouted. A handful of men followed behind him. Some in royal stride, others furtive, swift; all proud. The ceremony was finally beginning.
I felt a rush of energy—from things unseen—enter our ceremony space from a dark alley to my left. What was once a parking lot, of crumbling asphalt and chalky lines, turned into a spellbinding playground for spirits of all types in the glistening evening. Exultant. Loud. Joyous. Harsh. Whimsical. Even dangerous.
I did not recognize any of the entering spirits as my own ancestors. I did not know if I should. I could not tell whether they were the ancestors of any of the attendants. I was unsure if that mattered. I looked around at the faces of people near to see if they were seeing and noticing what I saw, but if they were, they offered me no clues.
I would have several more visions as the ceremony rolled into explosive fires, libations, drums, dance, jumping, and even running. Striking premonitions about the night that came to pass some seconds or minutes later. I witnessed more visualizations for other people in the crowd (but I would be too shy to say anything). I felt like I had one foot in reality and another foot…somewhere else.
Witnessed.
Just as I was preparing to leave for the night, overwhelmed by my experience (supernatural experiences I thought existed only in fantasy novels and fairytales), the Oungan, a voodoo priest, walked toward me.
We both fumbled our tongues when we discovered we shared no common language. The Oungan, shifting his eyes in contemplation, handed me his business card instead.
“He wants you to know that you should call him when you one day travel to Haiti. He says, anything you need. He means it. He will help you,” a younger man nearby, with a thick Haitian accent, translated for me. I mewled, embarrassed, honored, grateful to be witnessed in what I thought no one else could see.
I sat in silence in the Lyft ride back to my short-term rental, understanding that something dramatic was changing within and around me, but not knowing what it was; not understanding who I was becoming, or perhaps who I have always been. Understanding that others, strangers around me, already saw and accepted whatever it was.
Guided Meditation:
Each story we create, share, and consume has the power to change each of us at any and all times. Allow the change, but do so responsibly. This guided meditation will support you.
Prompts for Journaling or for your comments below:
What are the first three words that come to mind when you think of spirituality. Can you identify where, and at what time in your life, you learned to associate these words with your spiritual life?
Do you have a relationship with your ancestors? If so, in what ways does your relationship to your ancestors resemble your relationship to your living family members today?
What is your relationship to the supernatural? In what ways does it resemble your relationship to authority figures today?