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I want to tell you something I'm not entirely proud of. For a good few years after I left the church, I was what I now think of as a spiritual magpie. I attended courses, oh gods... so many courses. I picked up crystals. I bought posters with Sanskrit on them. I had a set of cheap "chakra" towels that I genuinely thought meant something. I collected bits and pieces from traditions I knew nothing about, stripped of all their cultural context, and arranged them around my house like they added up to a spiritual life. They didn't. It was a complete mess. And looking back, I was being an appropriative white woman without even realising it - taking from living traditions because they were available and they glittered, not because I had any real understanding of or relationship with them. (When you know better, do better, right?) The shift came when I stopped reaching outward and started looking closer to home. At my own ancestors. At my own values. At what I actually believed, underneath all the borrowed aesthetics. That's what this week's post is about. If any of that lands, if you recognise the magpie phase in yourself, or if you're in the middle of it right now, the post is worth a read. There's no judgement in it. I lived it too. And if you want to make sure you don't miss what comes next, there's a form at the bottom of the post. Bríd libh Órlagh Check out the links below: Website |
I'm dedicated to helping women in particular develop their spiritual path in life. I'm focused heavily on Brigid in Ireland, although not all my followers are! I teach, speak, coach and mentor people to help them along their own individual path, based on what lore we have, but also allowing for each individual path to develop as it needs to.
I want to tell you something about how this all began for me. I moved to England at twenty-two. I grew up Irish Catholic — properly Irish Catholic, which is its own very specific thing, shaped by history and survival and a particular fierce relationship with certain figures and practices that don't translate neatly anywhere else. When I walked into a Catholic church in England, I didn't quite recognise what I found. Same name. Different texture. The things that had meant something to me...
I want to be honest with you about something. The path I walked was not the most efficient one. It was not guided, not structured, and not supported in any meaningful sense. It was just me, stubbornly putting one foot in front of the other, refusing to give up on finding something that actually fit. That stubbornness is core to who I am. It makes me very good at some things and very difficult at others. It also meant that when there was no clear way forward, I made one anyway — slowly,...
People sometimes ask me what my spiritual practice actually looks like, day to day. They expect something elaborate. They're usually surprised. Sacred showers. That's where I start. There's nothing mystical about the act itself — it's hot water, soap, and about eight minutes before the day gets going. But I've learned to use that time deliberately. To arrive in the day rather than collapse into it. To set something like an intention before everything else starts demanding my attention. I...