Cozy Moonchild Blog

There’s a quiet kind of freedom that comes when you stop trying to control every little thing. For so long, I believed I had to know exactly how my desires would unfold — what step to take, what sign to wait for, how to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks. It came from a place of wanting safety, but really, it was fear disguised as preparation.

Over time, I’ve learned that the universe doesn’t need micromanaging. It needs trust. It’s like tending a garden — once you’ve planted the seeds and watered them with intention, standing over them won’t make them grow faster. The same goes for your manifestations. When your choices are aligned with your truth, your energy becomes enough to move things into place.

Letting go isn’t easy, especially when you’ve been taught that control equals stability. But real stability comes from faith — in yourself, in your path, and in the divine forces guiding it. When you release your grip, you create room for miracles to move.

Co-creation isn’t always a grand, mystical event. Sometimes it’s as simple as following a nudge — sending that email you’ve been overthinking, taking a different route home, or deciding to rest instead of push. Other times, it’s life-altering — walking away from what no longer serves you, starting something new, or trusting your intuition when logic can’t explain why.

The universe doesn’t respond to perfection; it responds to alignment. When your thoughts, emotions, and actions begin to move in the same direction, you become magnetic to your desires. That’s the dance — you step, the universe steps with you.

But co-creation also asks for discernment. There’s a difference between intention and interference. Intention is soft yet powerful — it’s saying, “This is what I desire,” and releasing it with trust. Interference, on the other hand, is control disguised as care — checking, doubting, and trying to rush what’s already unfolding. True intention has patience; interference has anxiety.

When you let your intentions breathe, life begins to rearrange itself around your energy. Conversations align perfectly. Money flows in from unexpected places. Peace replaces panic. These moments aren’t coincidences — they’re confirmations that the universe heard you and is responding in divine timing.

And this is where the ancestors step in. They are not distant or gone; they’re ever-present, guiding through dreams, protecting through synchronicities, and speaking through nature.

Last summer, I learned this lesson in the most unexpected way. I couldn’t escape the swarm of June bugs that followed me everywhere. I was terrified — their erratic flight made it impossible to relax — but spiritually, June bugs are symbols of divine wealth and transformation. My ancestors were trying to get my attention, and they did. Once I acknowledged the message — that abundance was on its way, but I needed to stay grounded — they eased up. I thanked them, and their presence softened.

That experience taught me that ancestral communication isn’t always peaceful or pretty. Sometimes it’s a disruption meant to shift your awareness. They remind us that co-creation doesn’t begin with us; it’s ancient. It’s the rhythm of survival, faith, and transformation that carried them through generations.

Today in church, my pastor shared a story that brought all of this home for me. He and his wife once received a vision of a third child — a promise from God — yet they endured four miscarriages before that child came to life. Each loss carried unbearable pain, but every time anger or doubt rose up, something within whispered, “The story isn’t over.”

That message broke me open. Because it reminded me that God doesn’t punish us for our emotions. Feeling grief, anger, or disappointment doesn’t revoke our blessings — it’s part of being human. What He asks of us is trust, even when our hearts ache. When He makes a promise, He delivers — always in divine timing.

In Black culture, that kind of faith lives in our traditions. Many of us were raised with the wisdom of not sharing pregnancy news until after the first trimester. It’s not superstition — it’s energetic protection. Children are deeply sensitive to vibrations, and before a spirit fully anchors, it needs peace, not projection. Not everyone means harm, but energy moves through thoughts, and doubt can weigh on a blessing before it’s ready to grow.

I’ve learned this lesson beyond pregnancy, too. In dreams, business, and relationships — silence often saves what’s still forming. I used to share everything: every idea, every plan, every spark. But the more I did, the more I noticed how quickly things unraveled. Now I understand why our ancestors practiced sacred discretion. Quiet doesn’t mean fear; it means reverence. Some blessings need to bloom in darkness before they meet the light.

When I think about the art of detachment, I think of those who came before us. Our ancestors planted seeds they never got to see bloom, yet still believed in the future. That’s faith in its purest form — trusting that the energy you pour into something will one day become someone else’s harvest.

They lived by the rhythm of divine timing, guided by intuition and unseen hands. Their strength wasn’t just in their endurance; it was in their surrender. They didn’t need proof that prayers worked — they were proof that they did.

As we honor Hoodoo Heritage Month, I’m reminded that Hoodoo itself was born from this same faith. It’s a practice of protection, resilience, and remembrance — a way for enslaved Africans to preserve their power and connection to spirit when the world tried to strip it away. It’s not about superstition or fear; it’s about working with nature, honoring ancestors, and trusting in the unseen. Every root, every prayer, every ritual was a declaration: “We are still connected.”

Our ancestors co-created with the universe long before we could name it. They followed divine intuition, worked in rhythm with the elements, and listened when spirit called. Every time we surrender control and trust that what’s meant for us will find us, we carry their legacy forward.

We are their answered prayers — living proof that what’s planted in faith will always find the light.

Connection with our ancestors begins with remembrance, but also with discernment. Not every ancestor is meant to be invited into your sacred space — and that’s okay. Healing your lineage doesn’t mean glorifying every branch of it. It means choosing to honor those who carried love in their hearts, who protected, nurtured, or prayed for the generations to come.

We all have those spirits — the grandmother who loved you without condition, the great-grandfather who worked tirelessly to provide, the auntie who stood up for you, the sibling or cousin who saw you for who you truly were. These are the ancestors whose energy still surrounds you with warmth. They are the ones who walk beside you when you call on protection, guidance, and peace.

Some ancestors caused harm or carried heavy patterns of pain. Honoring them doesn’t mean inviting that energy in — it means acknowledging the wound, setting boundaries in spirit, and choosing healing instead of perpetuation. You can speak truth over their memory without dishonoring yourself. Healing the lineage often begins by saying, “The pain stops with me.”

So when you light your candle or pour your water, call on the ones who loved you — the ones who carried light. Those are your protectors, your guides, your spiritual allies.

“Not every ancestor deserves your altar, but every act of discernment heals your bloodline.”

If you’re beginning your own journey of ancestral connection, start simply.

Create a small sacred space — a candle, a glass of water, maybe a photo or heirloom. Speak to them as you would to family. Ask for guidance. Pay attention to what shows up — a dream, a song, a butterfly that lands near you. These are not random moments; they’re replies.

For those who come from different lineages, the practice remains universal. Honor your heritage in your own way — visit ancestral lands, gather stories from elders, light a candle for those whose names you may never know. Connection is not limited by culture; it’s built on gratitude and awareness.

Because no matter where you come from, your existence is the result of someone’s faith.

There’s a rhythm to life that our ancestors always knew — one that teaches us to trust what we can’t yet see. They co-created through faith, patience, and surrender, planting seeds that would one day become us.

Learning the art of detachment is learning to remember. Remember that the universe has already heard you. Remember that your ancestors are working behind the scenes. Remember that what’s meant for you cannot miss you.

When we move with this kind of trust, we stop forcing outcomes and start flowing with alignment. We plant, we water, and we release. Because when the season is right, what’s meant for us will bloom.

“Faith is the bridge between the unseen and the seen — and every act of trust is a step closer to becoming who you were always meant to be.”

Journal Prompt:

• Where in your life are you being asked to release control and trust in divine timing?
• How can you honor your ancestors by embodying the same faith they carried when they couldn’t yet see the outcome?

With love and light,

Jojo 

Cozy Moonchild🌙✨

P.S if you made it to the end, I know this is a long one, my forever gratitude and appreciation is hopefully shining through to you.