The Mystic Goes West: A Small Introduction

Hi hi hi! I'm known here in Denver as The Mountain Mystic.

But we're friends now -- you can just call me Jimi.

I do feel that it is incredibly important for me to be vulnerable about my affairs, and the comings and goings, considering the business path I have chosen. I moved to Denver from East Tennessee in 2025, seeking a political climate that had more to offer me as a minority. Ultimately it was a venture of safety; and it really, really sucked.

As you can tell from my website and the way I market myself, I am Appalachia. Down to my little toe. And leaving? It was devastating. When I first landed here I was horribly depressed, and more importantly, I was seeking meaning in life, feeling as though I had been outcast from the home I loved so much. And I coped how you'd imagine; I made and ate a lot of biscuits and gravy, and I sat at my sewing machine, and like any good hillbilly, I hustled, distracting myself with hard work and the gumption to survive.

I had been living in Nashville for around a year prior; working part time at a beauty store, and making the bulk of my income through luxury wardrobe styling, particularly for entertainers and public figures.

So how did I get here? Did I move to Denver to have a spiritual awakening, find myself, and become an astrologer?

Well. Not exactly. That part was an accident.

When I first got here, I was at a tanning salon, and hustling to design clothes and get my name more public. But I also was diagnosed with severe PTSD. So I started intensive ketamine treatments, twice a week therapy, and trying my best to keep up self care. And the more I grew, and the more I learned, I started feeling like I wasn't making a difference with the full use of my skills. So I began to offer readings sometimes with styling sessions, and was occasionally doing livestreams on Tiktok where I was giving free readings. And all this time, I was grieving. I was grieving my mountains, the "smoke" (read: humidity) that wafts above them, beckoning those who listen: "enter with love -- if your kinfolks is from here." For a child of the mountains, Colorado was a great choice as far as safer places for trans people go. I found foothills, certainly; but the paths were foreign. I found mountain skylines, but these mountains are large, they kiss the sun in a different way. If the Appalachian Mountains are a stoic, albeit arthritic memaw ringing the cowbell to let you know it's time for beans and cornbread, the Rockies are a 20 year old six foot one supermodel who is just forging her path in life.

Then, six months in, I had a visitor from home, and for the first time, I did some exploration of Colorado's rich biosphere.

This was a reminder that my loved ones back home exist. They are real.

They are not photos on a dim lit screen, they are not a voice from a thousand miles away, or a mirage that only exists in my, albeit feeble, individual memory.

Home was real.

It was mine.

Okay that makes sense. But how did I jump from free tarot readings on livestreams to a full blown spiritual business?

That day at Red Rocks was the first day I felt like Colorado was home. It was also the day I realized I can be both: an Appalachian and Coloradoan. Appalachia for me represents the thinning of veils, the magic, me as a child when my parents would take away my makeshift ouija boards and I'd just go out back and wood burn another one. Colorado? Colorado has been all business. Colorado has been about abundance and expanding myself in order to reach my fullest potential. So I thought to myself:

What the hell's stopping me?

and I realized: that Appalachian trauma. The scarcity mindset. The belief out there that unless you're working outside or on someone else's payroll, you aren't succeeding. My childhood, my mother being poor and leaning on others. My belief that my psychic business isn't a real job. My attachment to wardrobe styling.

I sat down, thought about everything going on, and realized that I was shooting myself in the foot by working two jobs when the majority of my income is happening from my readings. I asked myself why I was afraid, and when I realized it was generational, there was no choice but to release it entirely. I made service menus, I got booked for Pride events, and I started treating it like the full time job it was. Hell, I launched this website.

Enter stage left: The Mountain Mystic.

I became calculated. The audacity of my mountain ancestors possessed my body or something, because I started making graphics, and business plans, and service menus. I expanded my services, which now incude predictive readings, coaching, intuitive styling, spirit communication, and even tea leaf and coffee readings.

I'm proud to say that as of June 10, 2025, I am the owner and operator of a psychic boutique over which I have complete control, and it is my only job.

I am a full time Psychic Medium.

That kid with the ouija board would be thrilled.

xoxo,

Jimi