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.
Hey Beautiful Widling!
Sometimes, Time whispers warnings. Other times, it shouts.
A couple of weeks ago, clear as the day, I heard a voice announce my death: July 26th, sepsis.
Hearing your own death declared is an initiation you don’t forget. It woke up something primal in me, a refusal to let this life slip by unchosen.
With life lifing, I’ve been reflecting on choice points that could have turned out differently, in hopes of learning from them.
Living here in San Cristóbal de las Casas has been both beautiful and quite difficult. I love the climate, but the altitude has been so rough on my POTS. Combined with the terrible water conditions causing awful bacterial infections, and the lovely house we’re staying in having the leakiest roof ever, I’m just over it.
A few weeks ago, the humidity from the leaking chiminea and the leak in the upstairs bedroom caused mold growth on our two pieces of furniture. The confluence of difficulties put me at my wits’ end. And I think the mold was getting to my head.
In choosing to move from Oaxaca to SCLC, I didn’t think the additional 1000 feet would be as detrimental as it has been to my oxygen levels. But I finally did research to understand the impacts of oxygen on the body. I was shocked at how much less oxygen I am getting compared to lower elevations.
Moving to the Xalapa region of Veracruz at 4000ft, just up from the north side of Mexico’s coasts on the gulf, I will increase my SpO2 to the 93–95% range versus ~90–91% at the current 7,200 ft. My Oura ring shows I’m hovering between 94-95 O2 pretty consistently. This level has an impact on organ function and vitality. When I get a random 96-97, I’m so happy.
Hearing my own death declared made me realize how much life I’ve been rationing.
How often do we do that?
Saving energy, ideas, or devotion for a future that isn’t promised.
That’s why we’re moving. Not just to escape altitude sickness or mold spores eating our furniture. But because this premonition reminded me, staying here felt like choosing death.
When I reflect on house moves, the place I wish I could change would be after we sold our condo in 2014 and eventually rented my dream house. There, I created a lush food forest garden that served as a display garden for the neighborhood.
While that time was rich with community and connection, beekeeping and growing so much food, it drained our savings from the condo sale. If we had left the US in 2014 instead of 2017, I feel like we could be so much closer to aging with resources. We could have focused that physical energy into our own place.
When I work with clients, I see the immensity of what wants to live through them. Sometimes before they do. It’s like this death premonition — a sudden clarity about what’s being squandered by waiting.
My hope is that by moving to a lower elevation, I will have greater energy to put into my future and channel the energy of my Head/Ajna definition transit to finish my book. To feel vital again.
My devotion is to life. To my work, my writing, my clients. To the unfinished threads still weaving through me.
This is what I do with my clients. I scan their horizon lines, listen for the whispers of what’s coming, and help them choose it before it slips by unnoticed.
When I was in poverty as a single mom of two, I could see how having less resources worked against me. A recent TikTok about this reminded me of my own witnessing of how under-resourced people have to pay more. When I was 16, living on my own without a car, I relied on convenience stores for food, buying only what I could afford on such a limited budget.
Prices at stores like these are significantly higher than at a Costco, for instance. The example of toilet paper in the TikTok was a clear one: $4 for 4 rolls versus $20 for 48 rolls. But an under-resourced person can’t afford the 48-pack on a limited budget.
I don’t know if I will die on July 26th. But I know I will not let mold, altitude, or unspoken dreams drain me dry before then. And I’ll definitely go kicking and screaming.
Life has called me back to devotion.
If death came calling tomorrow, would you have given yourself fully to what wants to live through you?I ask because I want you to see what I see in you.
Potential is not a promise. It’s a choice.May your devotion also call you.
Ritual Tending
If this Dragon 🐉 Letter stirred something in you — fear, grief, urgency, devotion, I invite you to be gentle with yourself and tend to it with this simple ritual:
Death Whisper, Life Choice
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Find a quiet place today, even for 3 minutes. Place your hands over your heart or belly.
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Whisper softly to yourself:If death came calling tomorrow, what is still unlived within me?
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Listen without judgment. Let whatever arises come.
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When you hear an answer — a project, a conversation, a love, a rest — speak it aloud:I choose to tend this life by _______ while it is still mine to live.
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Breathe into that choice. Feel its presence in your body.
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Close with gratitude for the life still moving through you today.
This is a ritual of remembering, of refusing to ration what you were born to offer.
May your devotion call you into the life that is waiting for you, before it becomes an unmarked grave of potential.
Stay wild, love fiercely. Your presence is golden.Maltiox! xo Ixchel
P.S. The extra bonuses for Stellar Impression Mentorships end tomorrow. Help me make some bold moves and let me help you realize your gifts!
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P.P.S. Maltiox pronounced mall-tee-osh means with gratitude in K’iche Mayan.
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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.
