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I've been thinking about something I kept seeing on social media over Easter weekend. (Because what else would I be doing on a three day weekend when I'm off work with stress only stressing myself more...) Amongst all the religious photos and family tables, there were quieter posts too. Women who didn't quite know what to do with themselves. Who felt something off about the weekend without being able to name it. Who were, in some sense, watching a celebration they used to belong to from the outside. I know that feeling. I also know that it doesn't mean you made the wrong choice in leaving. I wrote about it this week: about the vacuum that nobody warns you about when you walk away from a high-control religion, about why Easter (and Eid, and Passover, and Diwali, and every other hinge point in the religious calendar) can feel so strange once you're no longer inside it, and about what that hollow feeling is actually telling you. Hint: it's not telling you to go back. ​Read the full post here​ At the bottom of the post there's a short form for anyone who wants to stay close to this conversation as it develops. Over the coming weeks I'll be writing about what it actually looks like to build something to stand on when the old structure is gone, how you work out what you believe, where Brigid comes into it, and what a spiritual life that is genuinely yours might look like. If that's the conversation you've been waiting for, the form is there. It takes thirty seconds and it'll make sure you don't miss what comes next. As always, thank you for being 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.
The religion I grew up in had a lot to say about women's bodies. Keep yourself pure. Guard your worth. The messaging was relentless and specific, and it came with vivid illustrations - a used piece of chewing gum, a heart passed from hand to hand until it was battered beyond recognition. The point was clear: your value as a woman was bound up in your body, and that value could be lost. Damaged. Given away. I absorbed all of that. Most of us did. And what it left behind, once I'd walked away...
This week's post starts with me, alone in a Travel Lodge in Holyhead at two in the morning, crying my eyes out and asking for guidance. What turned up was the Dagda: father of the Tuatha Dé Danann, one of the old Irish gods. His first suggestion was to drink some water. By the end of the night, he'd told me to go look into his daughter. His daughter is Brigid. And that's what this week's post is about. Read it here But before you go, I want to offer you a friendly warning. Once one of the...
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...