I Wasn’t Looking for Religion—What I Needed Was a Way to Live

Hey Friend!

In this Manifesto we unpack the layered journey of spiritual identity, from childhood confusion to deep ancestral reconnection. I’ll walk you through how I went from Catholic schoolgirl to Muslim woman to an unapologetically root-bound Black healer, herbalist, and storyteller. This post is not about converting anyone—it’s about remembering who we are before the world taught us who to be. You’ll leave with a deeper sense of clarity around your own spiritual hunger and maybe, just maybe, a key to unlock your own treasure chest of ancestral wisdom.

I Wasn’t Looking for Religion—What I Needed Was a Way to Live

I didn’t grow up deeply religious. We went to church here and there. The Bible wasn’t something we read at home, and even though I went to a private Catholic school, I never considered myself devout. But like many of us, I was told I was Christian, so I wore that identity like a hand-me-down coat—never quite mine, but close enough to pass.

In my 20s and 30s, I went looking for something more structured. I thought I was looking for a religion, a spiritual home, a place to belong. I got baptized again. I tried different churches. I even explored African Christian congregations hoping it would resonate more deeply. Still, something never fully clicked.

Then, one random day during the pre-Google internet era, I stumbled across a page on Islam. One page. And something stirred.

I studied for a year before I became Muslim. And when I committed, I committed. I practiced in what some would call an “extreme” way—strict, structured, deeply observant. It gave me something my soul was craving: discipline, community, sisterhood, purpose. But here’s the truth that I didn’t realize until much later...

I wasn’t searching for religion. I was searching for a way of living.

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When Your Soul Craves the Village

What drew me into Islam wasn’t just theology. It was the lifestyle. The culture of sisterhood. The reverence for elders. The commitment to family. The idea that aging parents weren’t tossed into homes and forgotten—they were honored. Supported. Treasured.

That lifestyle felt like home, even if I didn’t have the words yet.

But still, I was trying to live two lives.

The American dream says: turn 18, move out, chase independence, make it on your own or you’re a failure.

My spirit said: we are meant to live together. To help each other. To be a tribe.

And I couldn’t reconcile those two worlds.

🌺 The Herbs Knew Before I Did

In my 30s, I started falling in love with herbs, teas, plants. I didn’t know then that my hands were reaching for ancestral knowledge. I just knew I wanted to blend leaves and roots and flowers into healing. I even started a tea company. Something ancient was waking up in me.

And now, in my 50s, I can finally name it:

I was never searching for doctrine.

I was never broken or missing a religion.

I was remembering a rhythm.

A ritual.

A way.

🕯️ What My Ancestors Packed for Me

You know what really unlocked the chest?

Trump.

When Trump took office in 2025, something inside me snapped into awareness. Not fear. Not panic. Clarity.

All those years of searching, studying, collecting, practicing—they weren’t scattered fragments. They were pieces of a treasure chest I’d been filling without even knowing it.

Herbs.

Ritual.

Islamic sisterhood.

African spirituality.

Communal living.

Hoodoo.

Sacred rest.

Ancestral whispers.

All of it was in the chest. Waiting for the moment I’d finally realize that this was the map.

This Is Why I Created Sundana Magazine

I didn’t just want to blog. I wanted to create.

To make something that lived and breathed with me.

Sundana is the chest.

Sundana is my offering.

Sundana is the living, breathing embodiment of my path—and it’s here to help you remember yours.

It’s filled with rituals, plant medicine, spiritual tools, historical truth, sisterhood, and recipes that remember. It’s for the woman who doesn’t want to perform for healing—she wants to embody it. It’s for the woman who isn’t here to fight the system but to outlive it by living in rhythm with her roots.

You’re Not Broken—You’re Just Disconnected

If this is hitting home for you, if you’ve ever asked yourself:

“Why doesn’t this religion feel like mine?”

“Why am I craving a life that doesn’t look like what I was taught?”

“Why do I feel more at home around people who honor elders, share meals, and speak to the land?”

You’re not lost.

You’re being called back.

Back to your lineage.

Back to your ancestors.

Back to the way we’ve always known.

🖤 Final Word: We Are Built to Live Differently

This political and economic climate is not made for our thriving. But we don’t have to contort ourselves to survive in it.

We are not built to live like them.

We are built to live like us.

And it’s time to remember how.

💌 Call to Action

If this stirred something in you—share this post, leave a comment, or consider supporting the work I do through Sundana Magazine. Let’s remember together.

Live Pleasurably,

Manifestos You’ll Love!

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