How My Ancestors Guided My Move: A Spiritual Journey from Tennessee to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, a spiritual moving ritual

Gazing across the sparkling waters of the Gulf of Mexico toward a distant barrier island under the clear blue sky.

The decision to leave Tennessee came like a summer storm—sudden, charged, and impossible to ignore. For months, I’d felt restless, as if the red clay hills I loved were gently pushing me toward some unseen horizon. Then, the opportunity arrived: a chance to resettle near the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where salt winds whisper through live oaks and the tides carry the weight of history.

But it wasn’t just practicality that guided me. My ancestors had been nudging me southward for years—in dreams of water, in the recurring sight of crows (a family omen) flying southward, and in the quiet insistence of my goddesses voices during meditation. This move wasn’t just a change of address; it was a spiritual crossing. Here’s how their wisdom shaped my journey.

I drove south on Interstate 65, my car packed with herbs, my cast-iron saining skillet, and a my three dogs, Darby, Loki and Emma Pigg. Halfway through Alabama, exhaustion set in—until vultures began circling overhead for miles, their wings catching the light. Vultures have always held a special place in my heart and soul, and this felt like an escort across the threshold to a new chapter.

The Gulf Coast greeted me with a thunderstorm. I took it as a blessing—rain cleanses, after all. My first ritual in Mississippi was simple: BREATHE. Take the salty air into my lungs, feel it as it moved through my body. This places feels like home, too. I met our new neighbors - who were more than happy to help us unload our truck - and it turns out she and I are more alike than I imagined we'd be. Twelves years in our house in Tennessee and we had never once shared a drink on the porch with our neighbors, here they came to help, and we've already shared food, drink and laughter.

Danny arrived not long after me and one of the first things he unloaded was the 2.5 gallons of Tennessee graveyard dirt my friend Callie's husband gifted me. The red clay was dry now, but it still represented home, connected me to my ancestors - the same ancestors who encouraged me to spread my wings and leave the hills for the coast.

Finally, I had the chance to introduce myself to the ocean here. In the middle of the day there was no one on the pristine white beach, the water of the Gulf of Mexico was rythmically rushing up and down the shore as I walked into the water and let it wash over my feet. I didn't get to stay too long, the dogs were home alone - Danny is back to work already - and I needed to get back to them. Dogs are funny, they take almost a month to decompress, but for Darby and Loki, this was a huge move. We had taken them from the only homes they had ever known and as a result they were acting out some. Nevertheless, I stopped to say hello to the ocean and she welcomed me gently. My spiritual moving ritual was now complete, it was now time to focus on completing the physical part of the move.

This is now home.

Questions for You:

- Have you ever felt ancestors guiding a life change?

- What rituals do you use for transitions?

(Share your stories in the comments!)