Saige est. 2000
I was born
I felt different. Alive. Awakened. But still scarred, and to this day still have many marks on my body to show for the experience. Something I now find beauty in as if it had to happen. I'm only 26 years old but in my short years I feel I've lived many lives and I certainly have—sexual assault, rape, marriage, childbirth, political activism, and so much more. I was never your average child or teenager. I too got into pills and drinking which was thankfully short lived, but after that I had the realization: "Nothing is real. You create your reality and no one is coming to save your stupid anxiety-ridden depressed dumbass."
Anyone could tell you "yeah sure I know I create my own reality" and hey maybe that works for some people, but that was my rock bottom. Dark night of the soul maybe? I NEEDED everything I knew or loved or didn't love but still held onto like a comfort blanket stripped away from me to really SEE the purpose. MY purpose. Why the FUCK am I even actually here? Because ever since I was a child I knew I had a higher calling. I never fit in. 9-5's never worked for me (I could hold a job and did, but none of it brought me joy and I was constantly clanking heads with my bosses).
After my last awakening I hit the books because I was forced to—not by choice, but by God, Source, Universe. I was literally stuck in my house and couldn't go anywhere without asking a friend. No car, limited funds. I came across articles about Human Design amidst my desperate pleas to God to show me a sign. There it was. I cried. I tapped into my spirituality with fear of being seen or perceived.
I began to self-initiate myself into esoteric teachings—though a natural wisdom and knowing was always there, I took it to the next level. I started Saige & Spirit in 2024 and since have worked independently to gather the data needed to craft my current methodology that I teach you, the student: the very steps needed to create and reach your desired end result without the pain and suffering. You just have to be willing and ready to take a risk, take accountability and responsibility for yourself, your actions, your words, and the way you choose to move in this reality.
I teach new teachers who don't know where to begin in business. I teach my students how to DECIDE what it is they want to actually do with their lives—learn the real reason why you don't have money, why you don't love yourself, specifically not enough to actually make change in your life. I teach the DECIDE & RISE method, created and refined by me, Saige. What is it? Simply put: you must discover the grey space in your life, learn your limitations, discover the problems you face. Once you've put a name to it we can figure out which of the chakra points hold that wound or trauma via the specific symptoms you experience. Then you must DECIDE—do I want to take action? Do I want this bad enough? Can I keep living life like this? Then you must decide to RISE—hone your story and tell it. It's nearly magical, the outcome, when you have done the work and choose to live in your design, aka alignment with your truth.
BUT here's the catch: The only way I can help you is if you quite literally extend the invitation to me, the teacher (this is a law per my Human Design—3/6 Mental Projector). Send the smoke signal and I'll be there, but you have to be ready.
into a hard-working blue collar middle class family raised by my mother and grandfather (who I've always called dad) because I fit the stereotype of your classic Black woman with no father. Daddy issues, who? Life was a dream until one day my mother and I moved in with her abusive boyfriend. All the signs were there but mom couldn't see it.
I became the chess piece, the leverage of blame and accusation against my mom, and yes, the punching bag. EVERY FUCKING DAY, every moment I was awake and breathing. Welcome to hell, Saige. My mother picked up her "bad habit" once again after years—pills. She was numb, hardly functioning but somehow able to keep her job and obviously blind to the abuse. And then it was just me and her beast of a boyfriend and quite honestly poor excuse of a man.
It was one night, little 9-year-old Saige laid in her cot (I wasn't permitted an actual bed per the boyfriend), I cried myself to sleep silently of course because if I actually showed that emotion or made a sound I got hit. HARD. That was my "God where are you" moment, the "why am I even here" moment—something no child should ever go through. And the only person who could protect me, who I knew loved me, did nothing until she finally got clean and we finally left three years later.
