One of the most common questions people ask me is, “Blanca… a limpia isn’t brujería, right?”

I hear the hesitation in their voice, the inherited fear, the confusion they didn’t create but received from generations before them.

And I always answer with the same calm truth: limpias are not brujería — they are ancestral medicine.

I grew up watching my grandmother offer limpias, prayers, and spiritual work to the people who sought her help.

As a child, I didn’t fully understand what she was doing, but I recognized the feeling in the room — a sense of peace, devotion, and care. Her hands moved with intention, her voice carried a quiet strength, and the people who left her side often walked away lighter.

That was my first language of healing, long before I knew anything about psychotherapy or emotional patterns. But like many families, parts of our traditions were hidden, softened, or spoken about in whispers because of colonization and the fear that was placed on Indigenous practices.

Over time, many people came to associate our medicines with something dark, even though they were born from care, protection, and community.

Limpias are not meant to control, harm, or influence anyone. They are a way to cleanse heaviness from the emotional, spiritual, and energetic body — the same heaviness many people carry without knowing why.

A limpia may involve herbs, smoke, water, prayer, or other elements, but the true medicine is not the object; it is the intention, the connection, and the release that happens when someone allows themselves to be seen and supported.

People often come to me for limpias when they feel drained, overwhelmed, or disconnected. A limpia can bring immediate relief — a sense of clarity, calmness, or renewed energy.

But I always explain that while a limpia can open the door, true healing often requires exploring the deeper layers of a person’s story. This is why I blend limpias with therapeutic work. The limpia softens the surface; the therapy helps us understand the root.

My goal is not only to offer the limpia itself, but to help people rebuild their relationship with their cultural medicine. Many women tell me, “My grandmother used to do this,” or “I’ve always been drawn to this but was scared to try.”

I gently guide them back to the understanding that our ancestors used these practices long before shame was attached to them. Limpias are part of who we are — a way to reconnect with our lineage and with the parts of ourselves that have been waiting to come home.

Before each limpia, I prepare the space and myself with intention. I ground my own energy, release whatever I’m carrying, and create a container where the person can feel safe and supported.

I listen not only to their words, but to the emotion beneath them, because a limpia works best when the heart is open, even if only a little.

If you’re curious about limpias but unsure, I want you to know you don’t have to walk in already believing or understanding everything. You just need to come with honesty and openness. Let yourself feel the space, the medicine, and the care behind the practice.

Many people who were once nervous later tell me that the limpia reminded them of something familiar — something they didn’t know they had lost.

A limpia is not something to fear. It is a return — to yourself, to your lineage, and to the deeper wisdom that has always lived within you.

And if you ever feel called to experience this work, I am here, ready to welcome you with respect, warmth, and the same intention my grandmother once offered to others.