Field Notes from the Threshold
By DrunkenBuddha LA
Chapter 1: Witness Wisdom & Otherness
This philosophy came out of my own internal journey trying to connect externally with other like-minded individuals. Iâll preface it with this: fortunately and unfortunately, Iâve always been labeled as “other.” Even within my own community. Even in niche spaces.
I was raised by two Black sheep parentsâboth a little alternative, a little rebelliousâso I was exposed to a lot more than most. Because of that, I was often misunderstood. People used to say, “Youâre not really Black,” until they got to know me and realizedâno, Iâm just not willing to be boxed in. Iâm revolutionary by nature. My Blackness is not performative. Itâs deeply embedded in my essence, in my journey, and in how I show up in the world.
Iâm not denying any part of myself. In fact, I know how sacred my Blackness is. Especially as someone showing up spiritually in public spaces, I know how rare it is to see people who donât fit the moldâwho arenât afraid to be deeply cosmic and deeply Black.
Chapter 2: The Divide Is Subtle Until It Isnât
In the general spiritual communitiesâthe ones filled with starseed talk, chakra alignment, and love-and-light mantrasâitâs mostly white faces. There’s diversity, yes. But not equity. And when you zoom out, you start to see the patterns: white influencers teaching repackaged Indigenous rituals, white creators going viral for truths that Black mystics have been saying forever, and all of it under the brand of unity.
But when I entered more niche spaces, specifically those rooted in Black spirituality, I noticed something else. These communities are often deeply intertwined with religionâChristianity, primarilyâand carry strong ancestral and occult traditions. There’s power there, yes. But also a kind of tension.
Because our spirituality had to be hidden in order to survive. It had to be folded into religion. And over time, the line between sacred memory and inherited distortion blurred. Still, thereâs reverence. But the divide remains.
And when I started my podcastâa spiritual oneâI looked up and realized my first season didnât feature any Black guests. Not intentionally. But it hit me. The community I thought would welcome me wasnât reaching for me. And I had to ask why.
Part of it? People assumed I was a generalist. A “I donât see color” type. But that couldnât be further from the truth. Color is life. Diversity is divinity.
Chapter 3: The Weight of Light
People often misread my joy and lightheartedness as surface-level. Like I havenât been through anything. Like Iâm not qualified to talk about the depths of spiritual awakening because I donât bleed publicly enough.
But let me be clear: Iâve seen pain. Iâve walked through fire. My dad was a crackheadâbut if youâre gonna have a crackhead for a father, I had the best one. High-functioning as hell. You wouldnât even know. And itâs not something to brag about, but if I had to choose again? Iâd still choose my dad.
Thatâs love. Thatâs survival. Thatâs complexity.
My joy isnât naĂŻve. Itâs earned. My light doesnât erase my shadowâit includes it. If you need me to be broken for you to believe me, then youâre still worshiping pain. If you need me to scream to be heard, then you havenât learned how to listen.
Chapter 4: Cosmic Colonization & The Face of Light
I started digging into the history of spirituality. The deeper I went, the more I saw the patterns. We, as a species, have always been spiritual. Itâs encoded in our DNA.
But who wrote that code?
When we talk about Starseeds or cosmic ancestry, who do we usually see? Pleiadiansâwhite, pale, blonde, blue-eyed. Maybe some Arcturiansâbluer, more alien. But thereâs rarely a face that looks like mine. Even in the stars, whiteness dominates the narrative.
So I had to ask: is this just another extension of colonialism? Is whiteness claiming the divine againâthis time in space?
Or are we projecting divinity onto what looks like us? Did those beings create us in their imageâor did we imagine them in ours?
And where are the melanated starseeds? Where are the deities with coily hair and obsidian skin?
Chapter 5: Demonizing the Dark
Letâs talk about darkness. Real darkness. Not evil. Not sin. Just the unknown. The shadow. The depth.
Our templesâour godsâwere destroyed. Our ancestral practices were demonized. Colonizers called it evil, savage, primitive. And we internalized it. Thatâs how spiritual elitism begins: by labeling the sacred as profane.
But letâs get something straight: 85% of the cosmos is dark matter and dark energy.
So what does that say? That most of the universe is evil? Or that it simply is? That maybe, just maybe, darkness is not the opposite of lightâitâs the womb of it.
Even now, people flinch when I talk about shadow work. They hear “dark goddess” and think Iâm invoking demons. But Iâve always thrived in the dark. Itâs where I listen best. Itâs where I birth light.
Chapter 6: The Sacred Reckoning
And all of thisâeverything Iâve seen, experienced, questionedâit brought me here:
We need to work together. Not in theory. Not in spiritual bypass unity. But in the real work of seeing each other.
The spiritual community isnât immune to division. Itâs laced with hierarchy. With elitism. With quiet supremacy. And the only way out is through.
We have to face our shadows. Our history. Our programming. Rip the band-aid off so the wound can breathe.
Even Iâve been accused of gatekeeping. Told I wasnât a real Black starseed. Told I didnât belong because I walk with shadow and light. Because I donât perform trauma in a way that people expect.
But Iâve been emo my whole life. I like the darkness. Itâs where I commune with God. And I know Iâm protected there.
This is not about being accepted. Itâs about remembrance.
Itâs about knowing that we donât need permission to existâcosmically, ancestrally, or spiritually. We just need to remember who we are. And let go of the lies.
âThis isnât about asking to be accepted.
Itâs not about crying over being excluded.
Itâs about remembering.
Remembering that we never needed permission.
Remembering that the truth was always in our bones.â
âWe all have shadows.
We all have work to do.
And healing doesnât live in performanceâit lives in integration.
In going deep.
In looking at the parts that make you twitch.
That make you feel ashamed.
And staying there long enough to finally see them clearly.â
âThis isnât a call-out.
Itâs a call in.
To truth.
To wholeness.
To something beyond the noise.
This is not a new movement.
This is ancient remembrance.â
END TRANSMISSION 011
Spiritual Elitism & The Erasure of Blackness
A Scroll for the Starseeded & Shadow-Walkers
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