Hola! I’m Ixchel Lunar (they/them), an Indigenous time ecologist, ancestral medicine guide, and rhythm witch for creative rebels, decolonial dreamers, and neuroqueer visionaries. This Substack is dedicated to weaving business, body, and belonging into something no empire can replicate. Still punk as fuck. Still cozy in the chaos.
The next Dragon Letters is gestating. Until then, we will be revisiting my work and offerings in a 5-email series called Reframes. Enjoy!
Beautiful Wildlings,
Over these last four reframes, we’ve been unwinding the grip of empire on your hours, your rituals, your very sense of self.
We began by naming the theft: Time isn’t scarce, it’s been colonized.
Then we dismantled the lie that you’re too far gone or too mixed to belong: Belonging is not a solo project.
We softened the perfectionism that keeps you from starting: You don’t have to know it all to begin.
And we reclaimed the threshold as sacred: There’s no calendar hack for dwelling in Nepantla.
Step by step, you’ve been turning toward yourself, toward your people, toward the pulse beneath all the noise.
Here’s the final, stubborn myth:That even after all this unlearning, you still need an external authority to tell you when and how to move.That your own timing is suspect.That if you let go of the scaffolding, you’ll drift.
Empire thrives on this story.
If you’re always looking outside yourself for the signal to begin, you’ll never fully root in your own rhythm, and you’ll keep coming back to buy theirs.
But you’ve already been in rehearsal. You’ve been practicing listening, noticing, and adjusting for weeks, for years, even… whether you realized it or not.
Your heart holds the beat.
The wisdom you need isn’t “out there.” It’s in the way your breath changes when something matters.It’s in the goosebumps when an ancestor draws near.It’s in the heaviness that tells you to pause.It’s in the quiet pull toward the next right thing, even if you can’t justify it on paper.
Your rhythm is the compass.The path is the listening.
And when you know that, you no longer have to chase anyone else’s pace. You become unshakable, even in a world that profits from your disorientation.
I’ve rebuilt my life by listening to my own timing… through chronic illness, through exile, through the slow and tender work of re-rooting after rupture.
I’ve walked clients through this same remembering, watching them shape their lives around what’s most alive for them instead of what’s most demanded of them. I know what it takes to trust your own clock in a world built to override it.
Reflect back over the last four emails, the moments you paused mid-scroll, the way your shoulders dropped when you read “you’re not behind,” the rituals you started or re-started.
Those weren’t accidents. They were you, orienting to your own tempo.
You’ve already been doing this.The question now is: will you keep practicing, or will you let the noise pull you off-beat again?
That’s why I created Wild Presence Collective, so you don’t have to hold your rhythm alone.
In Wild Presence Collective, we keep walking this path together in a four-month (renewable) spiral of practice, group coaching, ancestor connection, and Indigenous Time Ecology.
It’s where you bring the seeds of rhythm you’ve found here and plant them in good soil, with the collective as your garden.
You choose the tier that honors your capacity, in alignment with Sacred Reciprocity.
There’s no rush, no false scarcity. But there is a container, a cadence, and a place where your rhythm is honored as wisdom.
The doors close August 15. Orientation begins August 20. Our first session is the first week of September.
Your rhythm already knows the way. Let’s walk it together. If, while reading these reframes, that truth has been stirring in you, meet me in the Collective.
👉 Join Wild Presence Collective →
With devotion across Time…
Stay wild, love fiercely. Your presence is golden.Maltiox! xo IxchelP.S. The Collective opens its next spiral on August 20, and the circle is already forming. If your rhythm says “yes,” hold your spot before the doors close on August 15.
P.P.S. Maltiox pronounced mall-tee-osh means with gratitude in K’iche Mayan.
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Walk in beauty. Live your magic. Go wild.
Your Sanctuary to Cultivate Wild Presence for Thriving with a Planet in Transition
I was raised and bore children on the traditional, unceded, and stolen lands of the Coast and Central Valley Miwok (colonized as Petaluma, CA) and Nisenan (colonized as Sacramento and Fair Oaks, CA), past, present, and future. I also write, work, and live in the highland forest of the traditional, unceded and stolen lands of the Totonac, Nahua, and Mexicah, past, present, and future, in what is known as Coatepec, Veracruz, Mexico.
P.P.S. I do not live or consent to the colonial impositions regarding the construct of Time. I also practice honoring rhythms of work, play, and rest so that I can serve you with embodied presence and with loving care. This means I may take several days to respond to your requests and questions. (h/t Eva Glamaris)
P.P.S. A mention is not necessarily an endorsement of someone. It’s an acknowledgment, a citation, of the origin of information in my process of understanding. (h/t Kelly Diels)
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Copyright © 2026, Cheyenne, WY, and Veracruz, Mexico, All rights reserved. Sharing your lineage of knowledge is decolonial. When iterating, please cite me. Not citing is epistemicide.
