Broken Bonds, and the Price of Playing Priestess

Written By Michelle Ifasebee Benton

“Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.”  —Psalm 105:15

There are some crimes that don’t make it to court.

But Spirit keeps receipts.

Not everything that wounds you leaves a bruise.

Not everything that steals from you kicks in the door.

Some offenses are silent, like an open jar, slowly leaking the oil you prayed for.

We call them spiritual felonies.

A spiritual felony is a violation of divine law, a misuse of energy, gifts, or access in a way that harms others, thy self, or the spiritual ecosystem we are all part of. It’s not just bad behavior; it’s misalignment with universal order. It’s standing at the crossroads and lying to Elegba. It’s conjuring spirits you’re not in covenant with. It’s claiming divine authority without sacrifice, discipline, or permission.

These aren’t mistakes. These are choices. And choices have currency in the spirit realm.

1. Spiritual felonies break more than rules. They break trust with the unseen. Here’s a list of potential felonies. If your chest tightens as you read it, don’t run, reflect.

2. Tapping into someone’s energy field without permission

   Whether through divination, remote work, or simply ill-intentioned thoughts, this is spiritual trespassing.

3. Speaking curses or hexes casually in moments of ego

   You can’t hold sacred space on Saturday and weaponize your altar on Sunday.

4. Misusing gifts for personal gain without divine alignment

   Just because you can read someone, doesn’t mean you should.

5. Calling down spirits you haven’t honored or studied

   Not every force is your friend. Ancestors come with lineage. Orisa with responsibility.

6. Taking on titles you haven’t been initiated into

   Prophet. Priestess. Healer. These aren’t brand identities, they are soul contracts. Some of y’all out here spiritually impersonating.

7. Offering spiritual services without cleansing, prayer, or training

   You don’t serve food from a dirty kitchen. You shouldn’t serve spirit from a dirty heart.

8. Bypassing accountability with “love and light”

   Forgiveness without accountability is just spiritual gaslighting. Healing requires heat.

There is a specific ache that comes when your spiritual boundaries are crossed, an ache that doesn’t speak in words but hums in your bones like an old wound reopening. When someone enters your energetic field without your consent, it’s not always loud or visible. Sometimes it shows up as sudden anxiety, heaviness in your chest, or strange dreams that don’t belong to you. It’s the psychic weight of being watched, pulled on, or whispered about in rituals you didn’t sign up for. You feel yourself leaking, even if you can't find the tear.

Spiritual violation doesn’t always happen in dark rooms.  It’s in the session where your vulnerability is mined but not honored. It’s when someone reads your cards without permission and parades the insight like trophies. It's when your sacred offerings are repeated like gossip, your altars turned into rumors. These actions might be dismissed in the physical world, but Spirit bears witness. And when spiritual trespass happens, the whole energetic ecosystem shifts to account for it. Something feels... off. Because it is.

This kind of harm is deeper than insult or betrayal, it is the misuse of divine technology. It’s siphoning light from a soul that never agreed to be a source. It’s stealing prayers and repackaging them as prophecy. It’s using someone’s spiritual labor while denying them respect or reciprocity. And yet, every act leaves an imprint. Every offense is recorded in the invisible. Just because it didn’t make a sound, doesn’t mean it didn’t echo.

There is ancestral law older than any scripture, passed not in ink but through fire, water, bones, and breath. Those who practiced before us, the conjurers, root workers, diviners, midwives, and mystics, held their relationship with Spirit like sacred covenant. They knew the cost of calling down a force you weren’t ready to carry. They understood that to touch the unseen without reverence was to invite consequence. In many traditions, every act, every word, is a spell, and every spell must be accounted for.

These laws are not locked in temples or hidden behind priesthood. They’re encoded in the dirt beneath your feet, in the hush of a room after a name is spoken too loudly, in the way the wind changes when someone lies on Spirit. The old ways are not interested in performance. They respond to alignment. You might fool people, but energy cannot be deceived. And those who move in the spirit world unclean will eventually be found out by it.

This is not about punishment. This is about preservation. The ancestors were not just keepers of tradition, they were architects of balance. When you break that balance, they will correct you. Not to hurt you, but to return you to integrity. That is what many forget. The work is sacred. The calling is sacred. The gift is sacred. And none of it is for show. 

“A crooked broom can’t sweep clean, no matter how hard it tries.”

Let that linger. Let it sink into the hollows.

Because what you release into the world, finds its way back. Always.

If something in this message has stirred your bones, pause. That’s not shame whispering to you, that’s your higher self raising her hand, saying we’ve got some things to tend to. And isn’t it a blessing that Spirit always gives us a way back?

Realignment doesn’t require a spectacle. It requires stillness, honesty, and the courage to admit where we’ve misstepped. Before you reach for your oils and open your Bible, take a breath and whisper truth to yourself if it applies:

“I have misused what was sacred. I have entered spaces without invitation. I have spoken power without prayer. I have played with Spirit like She was a toy.”

No masks. No performances. Just bone-deep truth.

To make spiritual amends is to restore what’s been tilted. Balance is holy. And repair is possible.

Cleanse with the waters that have memory. Draw a bath of hyssop, rue, and a splash of Florida Water. Stir in a handful of sea salt and speak Psalm 51 over the steam:

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”

Light a white candle in humility, not arrogance. Sit in silence and ask your guides to show you what still lingers in your hands. Is it jealousy? Is it entitlement? Is it mimicry masked as calling? Let the flame tell you the truth.

Write an apology, not for others to read, but for Spirit to feel. Burn it with frankincense or myrrh, and release it under moonlight. Let Psalm 19:14 be your vow:

“Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight.”

You may be called to pause your spiritual work. Not as punishment, but as purification. When we serve others while wounded or out of order, we transfer that wound through our work. A fast from performance is sometimes the highest offering.

Some altars don’t need more crystals.

They need a new version of you.