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.
Beautiful Wildling,
This morning, someone reached out asking for the slides from the December Ancestral Ways Rhythm Reset workshop.
I sat with that for a minute.
We did that work together in the last days of last year. Threshold time. The kind of days that feel permeable, when what’s coming and what’s ending exist in the same breath.
And here we are. March.
Spiral Time doesn’t close when the calendar turns. Neither does the body’s knowing.
I’ve been reflecting on how this work lands. Where it goes after people leave the container. What gets carried forward and what gets set down.
The five pathways are living diagnostics. They move with you. And right now, in March 2026, our bodies know a lot.
They’re tracking the news before they’re fully awake. They’re bracing through the day. They’re exhausted by a pace no one chose.
This is not personal failure. This is what happens when systems break coherence on purpose.
When the US started bombing Iran, my grandfather came to me in a dream.
Jack Withrow, John Bircher. Anti-communist to his core. The man history would call a hero in Nicaragua for running guns to the Contras when the United States hesitated to escalate. The man whose bloodline I carry alongside the Indigenous ancestry his actions may have erased.
Contradiction and complicity in the same bloodstream. This is what lineage is.
He didn’t come with answers. My ancestors rarely do. He came the way they come. Present. Weighted. Watching.
I woke up with the particular feeling of lineage asking something of me I don’t yet have full words for.
When I think about Iran I think about when I was in 6th grade and my teacher asked us to find a word in the dictionary that started with I, contained a Q, and had no U after it.
I knew it almost instantly, found it and raised my hand.
Iraq.
Because I read the news. Because the Iraq-Iran War was already happening and I had been paying attention to things children weren’t supposed to carry for 5 years already.
My teacher looked at the word. Then he looked at me.
He said these two countries would be the most significant of our lifetimes.
That was 45 years ago. The bombs are still falling.
What we’re watching right now is not chaos. It is choreography.
Capitulation dressed as policy. Extortion that never makes the headline because the headline is the distraction. The Trump-Epstein files exist. The people named in them are still shaping foreign policy. The bombing of Iran is happening while we are meant to look away.
Some of us are not surprised.
Trafficking survivors have always known what power does with children. With bodies. With silence.
We carry on. We do the work. We digest the rage. We hold the thread while so many are just now waking up to the horrors we’ve always known.
That carrying has a cost. And the cost lands in the body.
Colonial time does this on purpose.
Urgency is not an accident. Panic is not a personal failing. When everything is on fire and the news cycle moves faster than your nervous system can process, that is not a “you” problem.
That is the architecture of control.
My grandfather ran guns into a country that is still living with what those guns set in motion. He visited me in a dream wearing a guayabera and a twinkle in his Lake Louise blue eyes, carrying the weight of choices made decades before I understood what sovereignty meant.
The lineage of harm and the lineage of resistance run in the same bloodstream.
I know this in my body.
And I know that the ones doing the work of repair right now, the ones holding communities together, building alternatives, staying present inside collapse, those are exactly the ones whose nervous systems need tending most.
What you’re calling burnout might be ancestral ache.
What repairs it is rhythm.
The five pathways are still describing exactly where bodies are right now.
Which one is loudest for you today?
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Your Time feels pulled in directions you didn’t choose
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Being visible costs more than it gives back
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You’re holding tension that no longer belongs to you
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You’re pushing and nothing is moving
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You’re carrying weight that was never yours alone
Rhythm is not a luxury in precarious times. It’s infrastructure.
If you’re in need of some shoring up, the Rhythm Reset is one session, your Stellar Fortuna + Daimon Map, and follow-up. We go into one pathway together. We listen to what your body is already trying to tell you. We orient before we act.
Not because it will fix the world. But because the ones working to repair it need their life force intact.
If the world has your body braced and you need somewhere to land, this is for you.
Book your session: https://ixchellunar.com/rhythm-reset-session
Your rhythm is your ancestral blessing. So is your resilience.
Stay wild, love fiercely. Your presence is golden.
With wild and rebellious love,
Maltiox! xo Ixchel
P.S. Maltiox pronounced mall-tee-osh means with gratitude in K’iche Mayan.
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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.
