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Hi, I'm Orlagh, of Brigid's Forge

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.

An image of a post staying "Start" in white writing on a red background, on a woodland path. But in real life, starting a spiritual path isn't always this clear!
Featured Post

What I thought I was doing when I started

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...

A sign saying "HELP YOUR SELF" with "self" a bit askew!

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,...

This image shows a wine glass with what I think is pomegranate juice and what I think is a pomegranate. Y'see spirituality in everyday life doesn't have to be complicated. In fact, I'd say it absolutely can't be complicated!

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...

There's one thing I've carried from my Catholic upbringing into everything I do now. I've never been able to leave it behind — and honestly, I've stopped trying. Candles. In the Catholic tradition, lighting a candle is an act of prayer. You light it for someone. You light it as petition or thanksgiving or remembrance. There are rules about when and where and why. I know all of them. I grew up with all of them. These days, I light candles for Brigid. For the Dagda. At the turning of the...

A picture of me looking straight at the camera!

For a long time, I thought being a pagan Catholic meant I existed in a category of one. I worked with Brigid. I lit candles for Mary. I had a complicated, deeply personal relationship with Saint Thérèse. And I also worked with the old Irish gods, followed the wheel of the year, and did things that would have raised eyebrows in the parish and in the coven alike. I thought that meant I had to hide. That there was no community for someone like me - someone who hadn't made a clean break, who...

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...

You're getting this email because you told me you were interested in The Guided Path. I want to make sure you see this. The doors are open. I published a post this week that I think will land for you, it's about the specific feeling that surfaces during weekends like Easter when you're no longer inside a religious community but haven't yet built something to replace it. That in-between space. The vacuum nobody warns you about. (I know I sent you the link on Tuesday as well, but I also know......

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...