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Last week, Ireland decided to have actual summer. Thirty degrees. Proper heat, the kind we're categorically not built for. We don't have air conditioning in the house. We do have a €30 mini air conditioner from Amazon that makes a heroic amount of noise for very little cooling effect. What we also have is a car with functioning air con - so I did what any sensible person would do. I invented a reason to drive to Waterford. I had exam scripts to collect. This was true. It was also, I'll be honest, partly an excuse to sit in cool air for 45 minutes each way. My husband came willingly. We both felt significantly more human by the time we arrived. And on the way home, we stopped at Tramore. It was packed. It was a perfect Irish summer's day, which means half the country had the same idea. But we found our spot, kicked off our shoes, and walked to the water's edge. My husband, who has opinions about the temperature of the sea, did not moan once. This is because the water was, for once, genuinely not that cold. We spent an hour there. Nothing dramatic happened. No visions, no major realisations, no spiritual breakthroughs. Just the sea doing what the sea does - cooling things down, washing things off, making the world feel slightly more manageable. We both slept better that night than we had all week. That, for me, is Brigid's water aspect at work. Not the dramatic transformation of fire, but the quiet, consistent support of water. The thing that holds you while it gently reshapes you into something that fits a little better. This week's post is about exactly this - how to connect with Brigid in summer, when Imbolc feels far away and fire isn't necessarily what the season calls for. [Read it here] BrÃd libh Órlagh Check out the links below: ​Brigid's Forge School​ ​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...