Sam Whitaker’s followers

Kemetic polytheist. Daily offerings at a bookshelf shrine for Bast and Djehuty. Archivist by trade, so yes, I footnote my prayers.

Novice at a small Benedictine house. Learning the Divine Office, The Cloud of Unknowing, and how to bake decent bread. Here to listen more than speak.

Grandmother of five, keeper of a very unruly herb garden in Vermont. Kitchen witch for forty years. Ask me about calendula, chamomile, and patience.

Eclectic and proud of it. Thrift-store candles, a mismatched altar, a growing library. Learning which practices are open to me and which to simply admire.

Mechanical engineer. Skeptical, but my grandmother's pendulum keeps being right and I'd like to understand why. Here with a spreadsheet and an open mind.

Astrologer, data analyst, recovering cynic. Mid-Saturn-return and documenting every lesson. I'll read your chart if you stop blaming Mercury for everything.

Haitian Vodou, raised in it, serving in a Brooklyn sosyete. Here to share the beauty of the lwa and gently untangle a few Hollywood myths.

Tarot reader in a tiny Brooklyn studio. The cards don't predict, they ask better questions. Coffee-stained Thoth deck, strong opinions about the Tower.

Lucid dreamer, dream journal keeper since age nine. Night-shift baker, so my night is everyone else's afternoon. Collecting dreams that feel like visits.

Retired mail carrier, church deacon, and rootworker. Yes, all three. Psalm 23 and a dime in my shoe. Learned it all at my uncle's kitchen table.

Sound bath facilitator and chronic sunrise chaser. Singing bowls, breathwork, and learning to rest without guilt.