Category: Me, myself and I

Here I talk about myself, my unverified personal gnosis (gnoses?), my thoughts, my actions, my learning, or even just some random things that are going through my head!

Why “Just Be Spiritual” Doesn’t Cut It After a Religious Upbringing

If you read last week’s post, you’ll know I’ve been thinking about the vacuum that opens up when you leave a high-control religion. The hollowness that certain weekends – Easter, Christmas, the hinge points of the year – can make suddenly visible.

This week I want to talk about what a lot of women do next. And why it often doesn’t work.

The obvious answer that isn’t really an answer

When you leave organised religion, the most common advice you’ll encounter – spoken or unspoken – is some version of: just be spiritual. Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t. Build your own thing.

On the surface, that sounds reasonable. Liberating, even. After years of being told exactly what to believe and what happened if you didn’t, following what feels right sounds like freedom.

The problem is that “follow what feels right” is not actually a framework. It’s an absence of one. For women who have spent years inside a highly structured belief system, that absence doesn’t feel like freedom. It feels like standing in a very large room with no furniture and no map.

The patchwork quilt problem

What tends to happen – and I say this from personal experience as much as from observation – is a kind of spiritual magpie phase. A crystal here. A tarot deck there. Some yoga philosophy, some sage smudging, a dash of Norse mythology, a moon ritual from a wellness influencer. Each piece picked up because it glittered, because it felt like something, because it seemed to offer an answer.

None of those things are wrong in themselves. But assembled without intention or grounding, without any real understanding of where they come from or what they mean within their own traditions, they become a patchwork quilt without a plan. It doesn’t keep you warm. It just gets heavier.

A magpie with a thought bubble saying "Mmmm... Must have shiny things..." Still being spiritual but not religious after leaving a church can lead to magpie like tendencies...

There’s also something worth naming honestly: much of what gets marketed as “spirituality” in the wellness space involves taking practices from living traditions – Indigenous, Hindu, African, East Asian – stripping them of their -context, and selling them to Western women as self-care. That isn’t spiritual freedom. Cultural appropriation dressed up in linen and good lighting is still cultural appropriation. Women who go down this road tend to feel, eventually, just as hollow as before – and now there’s a vague guilt attached to it too.

What actually helped me

When I stopped reaching outward and started looking closer to home, something shifted.

Not immediately. Not dramatically either. But what grounded me, what gave me something solid to stand on, was a combination of things that had nothing exotic about them at all.

Connecting with my ancestors. Not in a performative or mystical sense, but in the straightforward sense of asking: who were the people I come from? What did they value? How did they endure? What did they carry, and what did they pass on to me whether I wanted it or not?

Getting honest about my ethics and values. Not the ones I’d inherited, not the ones I’d been told I should have, but the ones actually operating in me – the things I couldn’t compromise on, the lines I wouldn’t cross, the things that made me feel most like myself.

Working from that grounded state outward was the final piece. Rather than assembling a spiritual life from whatever was available, I started from what I knew to be true about myself and built from there.

That process led me to Brigid. Not because someone told me she was what I needed. When I looked honestly at who I was and where I came from, she was already there – as saint, as goddess, as a figure woven into Irish culture across more than a thousand years. She didn’t require me to borrow from anyone else’s tradition. She was already mine to explore.

Structure isn’t the enemy

Here’s what took me longest to accept: the problem was never structure itself. The problem was being inside a structure someone else had built, one I had no hand in shaping and that never quite fit.

Building your own spiritual life doesn’t mean having no structure. It means building one that is genuinely yours: rooted in your own history, your own values, your own honest questions. That takes longer than picking up a crystal. It requires sitting with uncomfortable things. But it produces something that actually holds.

This is the work I do with the women I work with. It’s what the coming weeks of posts are going to be about.

Where this is going

Next week I want to introduce you properly to Brigid, not as a requirement, not as a new belief system to step into, but as a figure worth knowing. She has been part of Irish women’s lives for a very long time and might have something to offer you, depending on where you are and what you’re looking for.

If you don’t want to miss it, make sure you’re on the list.

And if last week’s post is still sitting with you – or if the patchwork quilt image landed somewhere uncomfortable – I’d genuinely love to hear about it. You can reply to any of my emails or drop a comment below.

Spiritual Burnout: What to Do When You’ve Given Too Much to Everyone Else


I’m off work right now. (And yes, I’ve written about spiritual burnout before, but bear with me, ok? I’m trying to focus on spiritual burnout recovery this time…)

Not on holiday. Not at a conference. Off work because I pushed too hard for too long and my body eventually made the decision my brain kept refusing to make. As an engineer, I’m trained to solve problems, keep things moving, be the person who figures it out. Turns out that’s a fantastic skill set right up until the point it isn’t.

And sitting here, with more quiet than I’m used to, I’ve been doing what I always do when something cracks open, I’ve been noticing the pattern. Where else does this show up? Where else am I the one holding the flame for everyone else while quietly letting my own go dark?

Here’s the thing. Right now, in my spiritual life, I don’t think I’m at crisis point. But I recognise the early signs. Spiritual burnout doesn’t always arrive as a dramatic collapse, sometimes it’s a slow, quiet drain that you only notice when you’re already running on empty. I know what this road looks like. And I’d rather write about it now, from the relatively sane vantage point of almost, than from the wreckage of having ignored it too long.

So this one is for anyone who recognises themselves in what I’m about to describe.

A tired woman rests her hands against her face in a moment of stillness — capturing the emotional weight that makes spiritual burnout recovery necessary.
A woman looking distressed, is she in spiritual burnout?

Signs of spiritual burnout

Over-giving in a spiritual community rarely announces itself. It creeps in through small, generous decisions that compound over time. Here are some signs worth sitting with honestly:

Your own altar has been neglected for weeks, but you’ve shown up for everyone else’s questions and crises.

You’ve started dreading notifications from people in your community. After conversations where you gave a lot, you feel vaguely resentful… and then guilty about the resentment.

Your own doubts and questions feel like something you can’t share with anyone, because you’re supposed to be the one who has it together.

You’ve stopped asking Brigid for anything. Prayer has become entirely outward-facing.

I know these signs because I know their cousins from work. The dread of the inbox. The resentment after a meeting where you gave everything and nobody asked how you were. The way your own needs quietly stop feeling legitimate because everyone else’s are so clearly urgent.

And then there’s the really subtle one, the one that makes this so hard to shift: your identity has quietly fused with being useful to others. Pulling back doesn’t feel like protecting yourself. It feels like losing yourself.

In work, for me, it looked like staying late to fix things that weren’t mine to fix. Answering messages at 10pm. Saying yes to one more thing because I was the one who knew how to handle it. Sound familiar in a different context?

That’s why the practical advice often doesn’t stick. People know what to do. Doing it feels like a threat to who they are. But it’s essential if you’re going to recover from this spiritual burnout! (Talking to myself? Me? Never!(

So what can we actually do about spiritual burnout?

I have a list of practical steps for spiritual burnout recovery. Because of course I have.

Stop before you fix.

Before changing anything, spend a week just noticing where your spiritual energy goes. Not to judge it, not to overhaul it, just to see it clearly. Most people are genuinely shocked when they look. I was, when I finally sat down and looked at where my working hours were actually going. You can’t manage what you haven’t named yet.

Reclaim something that’s entirely yours.

One practice, however small, that you don’t share, don’t post, don’t discuss and don’t offer to anyone else. Not because it’s a secret, but because it’s sovereign. A single candle lit for yourself. Five minutes with Brigid that belong only to you. This sounds simple. For people whose entire practice has become communal, it’s one of the hardest things I’ll suggest.

One of the things I’ve done while off work is to stop performing recovery. No updates. No checking in with people. Just actually resting, which turns out to be completely different from talking about resting. Your spiritual practice deserves the same protection.

Learn the difference between witnessing and carrying.

You can be fully present for someone without taking their struggle into your own body. This is actually a skill, and it doesn’t come naturally — particularly for empathic people, which most of us in spiritual community are. Practically: after a conversation that cost you something, do a short physical reset. A walk, cold water on your face, stepping outside for a few minutes. It signals to your nervous system that what you held for them stays with them. It doesn’t follow you home.

I’ve had to learn this at work too — the difference between caring about a problem and owning a problem that isn’t mine. Spiritual over-giving works exactly the same way.

Let people sit with their own questions.

Over-givers tend to rush — to answer, to soothe, to solve. Next time someone brings you a spiritual question, try responding with “what does your gut tell you?” It honours their own wisdom. And it protects yours.

Renegotiate quietly, not dramatically.

You don’t need to make an announcement. Definitely, don’t owe anyone a declaration. You can simply respond a little slower. Be slightly less available. Say “I don’t have the energy for that today” without explanation or apology. People who genuinely care about you will adjust without drama. People who push back or don’t even notice? That’s information worth having.

I didn’t send a big email to work saying I was stepping back. My body made that decision for me in the end. I’d rather you make it for yourself, consciously, before it comes to that.

Ask Brigid for something.

Spiritual burnout recovery doesn’t have to be dramatic. Sometimes it starts with the smallest possible thing — bringing your own need to the flame instead of everyone else’s.

When did you last do that?

I know, it’s obvious…

Brigid is associated with generosity, with service, with the perpetual fire that never goes out. It’s easy, especially for those of us with a Catholic background, to absorb that as meaning we should be the same. Always available. Always giving. Never asking.

But Brigid isn’t just a resource you dispense to others. She’s in relationship with you. The forge isn’t only where you make things for other people. It’s where you go to be renewed yourself.

I’m sitting with that right now, in this quieter stretch of time I didn’t exactly choose but probably needed. Bringing my own tiredness to her rather than showing up with a list of things I want to do for everyone else. It feels strange. It also feels like exactly the right thing. And I know, reaching out to Brigid (or your deity of choice) to help with recovery from burnout of a spiritual nature seems a bit, well, strange. I get it. But just trust me on this.

If your prayer life has become entirely outward-facing, this is your invitation to change that. Bring something to her. Not something polished or spiritual-sounding. Something real. The exhaustion, the resentment, the quiet grief of having lost the thread of your own practice while tending everyone else’s.

She can work with that.

The smith has to tend their own fire first.

Now, I googled a lot before I wrote this, because I don’t want to send you down a bad path.

When the World Gets Loud: What a Grounded Practice Actually Does

I wrote last week about St. Patrick’s Day and my online experience. But it led me to think about women’s spiritual leadership and how being grounded actual leads me to being a better person and a better leader.

There’s a version of spiritual practice that looks beautiful on the outside. Candles, rituals, carefully arranged altars, the right words said at the right time. And there’s nothing wrong with any of that. But it’s not what I want to talk about today.

I want to talk about what practice looks like when you’re tired. Really tired. When you’re off work with exhaustion and you’ve still somehow spent the last 36 hours in heated online conversations about Irish identity, St. Patrick, and the gap between the Ireland that exists in diaspora memory and the one I actually live in.

Because that’s where practice gets tested. Not in the quiet moments. In the loud ones.

Women's Spiritual Leadership can often feel limited to flowers and candles, But that's not the case. Groundedness is far more important than pretty pictures.
Women’s Spiritual Leadership isn’t always flowers and candles

The Thing Nobody Tells You About Spiritual Work

When people come to Brigid — or to any serious spiritual path — they often come looking for peace. And peace is part of it. But what a genuinely grounded practice builds, over time, is something more useful than peace. It builds capacity.

Capacity to stay present when things are difficult. To know your own mind clearly enough that you don’t lose it in someone else’s argument. Capacity to feel the full weight of something – the frustration, the grief, the sheer weariness of trying to hold truth up against a wall of comfortable myth – and still find your way back to yourself afterwards.

That’s not magic. It’s the slow accumulation of showing up, over years, to something real.

What Brigid Actually Offers

Brigid is a deity of the threshold. Of the place between states: between winter and spring, between darkness and light, between what was and what is becoming. She holds contradiction without resolving it too quickly. Saint and goddess. Flame and well. The fire that transforms and the water that soothes.

Working with her, over time, teaches you to do the same. To hold complexity without collapsing it. Stay in difficult conversations without losing your centre. Know the difference between a boundary that needs holding and a battle that isn’t yours.

This week, I needed all of that. Knowing the real history of this island – not the postcard version, but the layered, complicated, sometimes painful truth of it – meant I could speak from solid ground rather than from reaction. The years spent learning, researching, sitting with the stories, walking this path – they weren’t just personally meaningful. They were practically useful. They meant I had something real to stand on.

Grounded People Lead Differently

I work with women who are navigating leadership — in their professions, in their communities, in their spiritual lives. And the ones who struggle most aren’t usually the ones who lack skill or intelligence or vision. They’re the ones who haven’t yet built the interior infrastructure to hold the weight of what they’re carrying.

They’re reactive when they want to be considered. Depleted when they need to be present. Performing certainty when what they actually need is genuine rootedness.

A Brigid-centred practice addresses that at the source. Not by making you invulnerable — that’s not the goal, and honestly it’s not possible. But by giving you somewhere real to return to. A flame that doesn’t go out just because the room gets difficult.

What This Looks Like in Practice

It’s not always ceremonial. Sometimes, it’s a candle lit in the morning before the day gets away from you. Occasionally, it’s returning to a piece of history or mythology that reminds you of who you actually are. Sometimes it’s the simple act of naming, quietly and clearly, what you know to be true, even when the noise around you is saying something different.

Over time, these small acts of return build something. A kind of interior steadiness that shows up not just in ritual space, but in meetings, in difficult conversations, in the moments when you’re running on empty and still need to show up well.

That’s what I came back to this week, when the online world got loud and my body was already waving flags about rest. Not a complicated practice. Just the accumulated weight of years of genuine work, holding me up when I needed it most.

An Invitation

If you’re a woman in leadership – formal or informal, professional or spiritual – and you’re feeling the gap between who you’re being asked to be and who you actually are, I’d invite you to consider what it might mean to build that kind of interior foundation.

Not because Brigid is the only path. But because this island’s tradition offers something ancient, layered, and genuinely powerful for women who are ready to do real work. And because the difference between leading from exhaustion and leading from groundedness isn’t a matter of working harder. It’s a matter of going deeper.

If that resonates, you’re in the right place. Have a look around. And if you’d like to explore what this kind of work might look like for you personally, you can find me here.

When the Internet Wants You to Be a Different Kind of Irish

I’ve spent the last few days doing something I probably shouldn’t have, given that I’m currently off work with exhaustion. I’ve been online, trying to have conversations with Irish Americans about St. Patrick, about what Ireland actually is today, about the gap between the island their ancestors left and the one I live on now.

It’s been a rough 36 hours. (If you search for me over on Threads, you can probably retrace the whole thing!)

I don’t regret it. But I won’t pretend it didn’t cost me something.

(And yes, being off work is why this is here on Wednesday evening and not Monday morning like usual)

So Let’s Talk About Aul Paddy

I don’t write about him every year, cos I have better things to be doing, but here’s a post from 2022 talking about him as well.

There’s a particular kind of tiredness that comes not from the argument itself, but from the invisible labour underneath it: the constant recalibrating, the search for the right words, the hope that this time the point will land.

So here are a few things worth knowing about St. Patrick, since we’ve just been through another year of the myths doing the rounds.

A snippet from the RTE coverage of the St Patrick's Day in Dublin, which is all about being Irish in our many shapes and colours!
Screenshot from the RTE news coverage of the Dublin Paddy’s Day Parade, you can see it all here: https://www.rte.ie/player/series/rt%C3%A9-news-six-one/SI0000001474?epguid=IH10016318-26-0076

Patrick didn’t kill pagans. He himself considered his mission to Ireland a failure. The snakes weren’t pagans either, that’s a later invention. What Patrick did have, however, were excellent propagandists a few centuries after his death. If you want a genuinely gripping political read, look into the row between Armagh and Kildare in the 7th or 8th century about who would claim the supremacy of Ireland. Spoiler: Armagh and Patrick won that particular battle. Though it’s worth noting that Brigid did considerably more work in the succeeding centuries… but that’s a story for another day, and honestly, a subject close to my heart.

Paddy also wasn’t Irish…

What “Irish” Actually Means

This is where the conversations got harder.

“Irish” means born here, or living here for a considerable period of time, knowing the culture, the politics, the modern history. It means existing inside this place, not just carrying it in your blood memory.

Being Irish American means that somewhere along the line, you had an Irish ancestor. Chances are they were a poor peasant, heading to lands far away for survival. Good on them, the fact that you’re here and exist means it worked. It’s a remarkable story. But it doesn’t make you Irish.

And the Ireland many Irish Americans are so fiercely proud of? It’s a photograph of someone who used to live here. Beautiful. Sincere. Real in its own way. But not quite us anymore.

Here’s some of what modern Ireland actually looks like:

There are Black and brown Irish people. Here, living on this island, playing hurling, playing Gaelic, playing soccer, singing, dancing, serving as politicians, just being people. They’re as Irish as I am. One of them was Taoiseach a few years ago. There is no pure Irish bloodline: we’re a nation of mongrels, and always have been.

If you’re telling me you can trace your lineage to before Christianity arrived on these shores, I’d gently suggest you’ve been extremely misled. For many reasons, we are lucky on this island to trace lineage back to the Great Hunger. Prior to the 17th century, most of us don’t even have church records. But sure – you’re definitely a descendant of Niall of the Nine Hostages.

The Ireland We Actually Live In

Ireland sides with oppressed peoples. Saoirse don Phailistín. We recognise the behaviour: the British practiced it on us first, and we haven’t forgotten what that looks like.

The Irish language isn’t dead. It’s going through a revival, and thankfully so.

Our Head of State is our President, ár Uachtarán, currently Catherine Connolly (our third female president). Our Head of Government is the Taoiseach, Micheál Martín, the man you may have seen at the White House recently. ( You may have heard him being referred to as a Prime Minister, that’s a bad translation of an Irish word)

We voted in Marriage Equality. We repealed the 8th. We are not the Catholic island of your great-grandmother’s stories. We’ve changed, sometimes painfully, often beautifully.

Why This Is Personal

I found myself asking, somewhere in the middle of all this: why does it land so hard? Why does correcting a myth about a 5th century saint feel so exhausting?

I think it’s because identity isn’t abstract for me. It’s something I’ve spent years rooting myself in. Not the postcard version, but the real, complicated, sometimes painful story of this island. I’ve walked a spiritual path with Brigid long enough to understand that she herself holds that complexity. She is saint and goddess, fire and water, patron of poetry and of smithcraft, Of making things and of tending the flame. She doesn’t flatten into a simple story. Neither does Ireland.

That’s part of what learning about her has given me. Not just devotion, but groundedness. A sense of actually knowing where I come from – which makes it harder to stay silent when that story gets simplified, and harder still not to feel the weight of trying to hold the real version up against the wind.

Coming Back to Myself

I’m not writing this to criticise anyone. The love is real – I know that. But I’m also genuinely, medically tired. Which made the last few days both harder and, strangely, more clarifying.

Because when you don’t have the energy to perform patience, you fall back on what’s real. And what’s real for me is this path, this practice, this sense of being held by something older and steadier than any comment section. Brigid has been walked with through harder things than this. She’ll survive it too.

I came back to myself eventually, as I always do, by stepping away from the screen and back into something quieter. A candle. A few slow breaths. The ordinary, unglamorous work of remembering who I actually am, where I actually stand, what I actually know.

That’s the gift of a grounded practice. Not that it makes you invincible. Not that it stops the world from being exhausting. But that it gives you somewhere to return to when it is.

So if you’re Irish, or Irish-adjacent, or just someone who found themselves in an argument this week that cost more than it should have: I see you. Rest. Come back to yourself. The flame will keep.

Women’s Spiritual Leadership Ethics

How to Guide Others with Integrity and Care

If the last two pieces explored responsibility and visibility, this one turns inward, toward conscience. I appreciate that women’s spiritual leadership ethics is a mouthful. And not really that sexy. Not the lofty, abstract kind of post, but the everyday conscience that sits beside you when someone asks, “What should I do?”

Anyone who guides others, whether they’re a priest, celebrant, coach, elder, or simply the woman people turn to when everything is falling apart, eventually confronts the ethical weight of that question. Women’s spiritual leadership ethics live right at the heart of that moment.

I’ve never believed that ethics are a dusty set of rules. They’re a way of walking. They’re the shape integrity takes when things get complicated. So rather than a manual or a code, what follows is really a conversation. With yourself, with the people you support, and with the role you inhabit, intentionally or otherwise.

A green background, with the shape of a woman with her hair in a bun in black with a yellow tulip shaped flower in her torso and rays of green surrounding the flower. Women's spiritual leadership ethics come from within us!

This surprises no-one, right?

Ethical guidance always begins with consent, and not the soft, implied kind that arises because someone keeps talking and you’re the nearest steady presence. Consent in spiritual work means clarity: what are you actually doing together? Are you sharing a perspective, or offering direction? Are you teaching, or simply witnessing? Without this clarity, guidance can slip quietly into control, even when your tone is gentle and your intentions are good. Consent also includes the right to stop, to pause, and to protect your own boundaries. This is a crucial part of women’s spiritual leadership ethics, which refuses the old pattern of women giving endlessly until they are emptied.

Knowing Your Limits

Again, I preach this over and over. Don’t teach what you don’t know. One of the most ethical things a guide can do is recognise when something is outside their lane. There are moments when what a person truly needs belongs to a therapist, a doctor, a solicitor, or a crisis service, not to you. There are times when a question falls outside your tradition or your experience. Staying in your lane isn’t a lack of courage. It’s integrity. It keeps people safer than any impulse to be the one who knows everything ever could.

If someone comes to me looking for Brigid as a link to Maman Brigitte? I’m steering clear of that. There may be a link, but I haven’t experienced it and my experience with voudoun is zero. So I’m not going there.

Power, Transparency, and the Quiet Responsibilities of Leadership

Even when you don’t intend to hold power, people may place it in your hands simply because you listen well or speak clearly. That’s part of the nature of spiritual leadership. One of the gentlest antidotes to unconscious power is transparency. When you make your process visible, and by that I mean: how you make decisions, what informs your perspective, what your boundaries are around time, availability, confidentiality, and money. Once you make your process visible, you invite trust instead of projection. Transparency keeps the ground steady under both of you, and it’s a core principle within ethical women’s spiritual leadership, where clarity replaces authority for authority’s sake.

I try to present myself online as I do in real life. It’s not always possible. I mean, very few people have seen me mid-tummy bug for example. But I try to keep it real. And I also try to let people know what they’re getting into when they start working with me. Because I know I’m not for everyone. No one is.

Keeping Stories Sacred

If someone offers you their truth – the raw, vulnerable, complicated version – it is not material for content or conversation elsewhere. Honouring privacy is one of the deepest spiritual acts in any leadership role. If you’re unsure whether you can share a story, then you can’t. When people know their story will not be used to polish your persona or fuel your next online post, they can soften, breathe, and do the work they came to do.

And even when I do share stories, they’re anonymised. I try to keep it at the level of “I’m talking to many women who…” rather than “here’s a story that happened to a follower of mine”. I hope the difference there is obvious.

Navigating Money Without Shame or Manipulation

Money and spirituality tend to make people twitchy, but ethics demand we address them honestly. And this is an area I struggle with.

Some things belong in the realm of gift: the quick blessing, the small kindness, the simple moment of support. But they are also voluntary. Not required. People might demand all they like, but no matter what leadership position you are in, you owe nobody anything!

Other work requires actual labour, skill, and emotional energy, and that work deserves to be paid for. There is nothing unethical about charging fairly for the work you have trained for. What matters is clarity and the refusal to use fear, urgency, or spiritual scarcity as sales tactics. In women’s spiritual leadership ethics, coercion has no home. And that goes both ways, from leader and practitioner or client.

Supporting Sovereignty, Not Dependency

If someone cannot make a decision without you, something is off. Ethical guidance strengthens a person’s own discernment rather than replacing it with yours. You may offer insight, name what you see, or open doors they hadn’t considered. But ultimately, the work is to help them hear their own wisdom. And, most importantly, to step back far enough that they can trust it. A guide who celebrates when someone no longer needs them is a guide who understands the heart of the work.

You don’t control other people’s lives and sometimes – it’s time to cut the chord. Gently, sometimes, but firmly.

Repairing Harm With Humility

Even with the best intentions, harm sometimes happens. A poorly timed question, a misunderstood suggestion, a ritual that opens more than someone can integrate… It’s part of the territory. Ethics doesn’t promise perfection; it promises repair. Repair means listening without defensiveness, apologising with clarity, and taking responsibility for your part. If we expect those we guide to grow, then we must model what real accountability looks like.

We can all cause harm. We all do, just by living. When you know better, do better, remember? Women’s spiritual leadership ethics demand more than the traditional male model. It’s important to consider this. We’re not looking to recreate, we’re looking to do better.

And sometimes there’s harm you can’t heal. Learn from it. Be humble. Do better next time.

Tending Your Own Practice

This comes down the list, but it’s probably one of the most important topics to consider. Fill your own cup before you pour from empty.

One of the quiet dangers of guiding others is neglecting your own spiritual life. It is far too easy to become the mentor who never returns to their own well. But exhaustion, isolation, and disconnection erode ethics faster than anything else. A spiritual leader who doesn’t nurture their own practice becomes brittle. Make space to study, to pray, to reflect, to be a beginner again. Ethics rests on honesty, and honesty is impossible without a living, breathing spiritual life beneath it.

Self-care is community care.

The Need for Community

And following on from that…

No one leads ethically in isolation. Community challenges us, steadies us, and keeps us from drifting into our own unchecked authority. Whether your work is rooted in a lineage or built from your lived experience, you need peers who are not impressed by you. Community keeps the edges of our ethics sharp and reminds us that leadership is not about perfection.

It is about service.

The Quiet Test

In the end, it all comes back to something simple: after an interaction, can you sit quietly with yourself? Can you meet your own eyes without the small wince that says you crossed a line? If the answer is yes, good. If there’s a stone in your stomach, look again.

Ethics is not a declaration. It is the daily choice to be clean with your power, generous with your care, and honest about your limits. Guiding others is beautiful work, and it is serious work. May we carry it with humility. May we leave people more sovereign than we found them. And may our footprints mark a path that feels safe for those who follow.

Women’s Spiritual Leadership Ethics

I said earlier that we’re not looking to re-form the traditional male model of spiritual leadership. I meant it. We’re not holding ourselves to those standards.

We’re doing better. That means community first. It means clarity, transparency, accountability. Being able to look at ourselves in the mirror. Being aware when the Overton window is shifting – and correcting it when necessary.

This is about being the leaders we needed earlier in our lives, and developing into the leaders we’re going to need going forward. Doing the work, bit by bit.

Visibility in Spiritual Leadership

Last week, I wrote about spiritual leadership in the modern world: the responsibilities, the boundaries, the need to hold knowledge with care. But there’s another piece to this that deserves its own space: what happens when people begin to see you as a spiritual leader, whether you intended it or not. When you become visible.

Visibility is one of those things that arrives quietly. You don’t have to declare yourself anything. You don’t need a title or a platform. Sometimes visibility begins the first time someone asks you for guidance, or when people start coming to you with their questions, their fears, or their excitement about the path. With one conversation, one ritual, one piece of advice — suddenly you’re “someone who knows things.” And from that moment on, your path looks different.

And while visibility can be a blessing, it isn’t always comfortable.

An orange background with a black figure in the middle with a yellowish 5 pointed star in the middle with rays of yellow coming from behind. Written above the figure is "The Burdena nd Blessing of Being Seen: Visibility in Spiritual Leadership"

Being Seen Isn’t Simple

People often imagine visibility in a spiritual context as something warm and affirming. A sign that your work is valued. And sometimes it is. But it can also come with scrutiny you never asked for. People will make assumptions about who you are, what you believe, what you represent, and what you should be doing. You might find yourself carrying the weight of expectations you didn’t sign up for, simply because others have formed an idea of you that doesn’t match the full reality.

The strange thing about visibility is that people often see the version of you they need in that moment. Sometimes that’s comforting; sometimes it’s overwhelming. But rarely is it neutral.

When People Try to Claim You

Once you’re visible, even in a small way, people can begin to form attachment: some healthy, some less so. Someone might decide they’re your closest student despite you never agreeing to teach. Someone else may expect constant access to your time or energy because you answered a single question online. Others may subtly pressure you to take them under your wing, guide them personally, or carry emotional weight that isn’t yours to hold.

Most of the time, it isn’t malicious. It’s simply human longing. But longing can become entitlement, and entitlement can become a problem. Part of spiritual leadership is remembering that you belong to yourself first. Your practice, your time, your energy… These are not communal property just because you’ve been helpful or visible.

You Become a Mirror

Here’s the unexpected part: visibility means becoming a mirror for other people. Their reactions often have very little to do with you and far more to do with their own wounds, hopes, insecurities, or unresolved stories.

Some people will admire you instantly because you embody something they want for themselves. Others may feel defensive because you remind them of something they’re avoiding. And some will project every authority figure they have ever struggled with onto you, without realising they’re doing it.

This isn’t a sign that you’re doing anything wrong. It’s simply part of the terrain. And knowing that can make the road much gentler.

Why Grounding Matters More Than Ever

Visibility requires a certain steadiness. You need the ability not to inflate when someone praises you, and not to crumble when someone criticises or misunderstands you. Emotional grounding becomes the anchor that keeps you from drifting into ego or collapse. It’s what helps you sift through the feedback and recognise which parts are projections and which parts offer something genuinely useful.

Without grounding, visibility can swallow you whole. With grounding, it becomes something you can carry with dignity and clarity.

The Beautiful Better Side of Visibility

I just couldn’t with the “beautiful”. It’s not in me. Because this is work. But still…

It’s not all hard edges. Visibility also brings moments of great beauty. Someone might share how your words helped them through a difficult time. Someone else may feel less alone because you voiced something they’ve always felt but never had language for. You might find yourself connecting with people who share your values, your devotion, or your connection to the land and the divine.

Those moments make the weight worth it. They remind you that visibility isn’t just burden, it can also be a blessing, a thread connecting you to others in ways you might never have expected.

You Don’t Need to Be Perfect

One of the biggest myths about spiritual leadership is that you must be flawless: endlessly wise, endlessly calm, endlessly sure. But that’s not how humans work, and it’s certainly not how spiritual paths work.

You don’t need perfection. What you need is honesty. Honesty about your limits. Honesty about what you’re still learning. Honesty about your boundaries, your energy, and the fact that you’re as human as anyone else.

Invisibility hides our imperfections. Visibility simply makes them easier to see, and easier to accept, if we let it.

Staying Whole While Being Seen

If last week’s piece was about the responsibilities of spiritual leadership, this one is about what happens inside you when people begin to look to you for guidance. To lead sustainably, you need to stay whole. Staying whole means not letting projections reshape you. It means returning to your own practices, your own gods, your own grounding, again and again.

Being seen is part of the work. Sometimes the hardest part.

But staying yourself, even while being seen?

That’s the heart of spiritual leadership.

Spiritual Leadership

I’ve been on threads a lot over the last few weeks. Yes, it’s still Meta, but it’s better than X. (In my opinion, obvs!)

And yes, I have written about this before. But there’s a different slant on it this time. Because, sometimes, in warning people about potential dangers, concerns or potholes on their path, we’re denounced with “gatekeeping”, “blocking”, or “hiding information”. In my opinion, yes, there are folk who gatekeep knowledge. Usually with good reason. But I want to talk about some of the responsibilities inherent in being a spiritual leader in the modern world.

Spiritual leadership isn't just pretty pictures. Although this one is lovely. A figure standing in a valley, with a multicoloured night sky above them, going from orange on the left, pink in the middle and blue on the right.

What Spiritual Leadership Actually Means Today

At its core, spiritual leadership isn’t about titles or followers but about service, presence, and accountability. It means showing up with integrity, Listening more than you speak. Possibly most importantly, acknowledging the limits of your own knowledge.

In older Irish traditions, leaders weren’t chosen because they demanded authority – they were recognised because they lived in a way the community trusted. The bean feasa rarely if ever chose their own title.

The same remains true now: leadership is earned through action, not assumed through aesthetics or self-branding. As in, judge the leader by their actions, not their words.

And remember, it’s easy to show a persona on social media. It’s not so easy to get your hands dirty in the real world.

The Responsibilities of Holding Knowledge

One of the deepest responsibilities in spiritual leadership is knowing when knowledge should be shared. And when it requires grounding, maturity, or support. Some practices stir unresolved trauma; others raise energy people aren’t ready to channel; others belong to lineages or traditions that require preparation. Sharing everything instantly, without context, isn’t generosity. It’s carelessness. Responsible leaders offer information at the right time, in the right setting, with the right structure.

This is particularly true with closed practices. Practitioners have the right to maintain control over traditional practices. Not to mention – point on when someone isn’t following traditional ways. I see a lot of people, every single fucking year saying Brigid is so gentle, and calm, and quiet. This is not held true by either saint or deity original texts. At all. And so, I challenge it.

And I’m usually challenged saying I don’t know what I’m talking about.

The thing is, I do know what I’m talking about on this. While Brigid can be extremely calm and supportive, she is the transformative fire. The healing ocean.

She’s not a delicate flower.

When Warnings Get Misinterpreted

Part of modern spiritual leadership is accepting that sometimes people will misunderstand you. When you say “not yet,” some will hear “never.” When you explain the need for foundation, some will accuse you of controlling the path. This is less about your intent, and more about the listener’s insecurities, expectations, or impatience. Digital platforms reward speed over depth, certainty over nuance. And warnings rarely survive that environment intact.

Everyone wants to know everything now, all at once. And some see this caution to wait, to learn, as blocking and gatekeeping. No more than a 4-yr old playing with fire, there are some things spiritually that will burn you. And frankly, a sensible leader will point this out.

Not every learner wants to listen, and that then causes more work for the spiritual leader. Usually cleaning up the mess.

Think I’m joking? I’m really not. If you’re not capable of cleaning up your own mess, someone else has to. And while that’s acceptable for a 4-yr old, it’s not for an adult.

Why Not Everything Should Be Freely Distributed

Every tradition includes knowledge that must be handled with care, and spiritual leadership means understanding that not all information belongs on the open internet. Some practices require initiation; some require safety structures; some require a relationship with land, deity, or community. Sharing everything freely isn’t transparency. It’s removing the protective container that allows deep work to unfold safely.

I’m asked sometimes why some courses and workshops are so tightly controlled in numbers. It’s so I can take care of the people involved and I won’t get overwhelmed by the number of things happening at once. I know my limits when it comes to virtual and in-person energy management. And to be honest, the virtual stuff is harder for me to manage. It’s much easier for me to manage energy in person.

I hold virtual events to be more accessible. But they take more out of me, they cost me more in time, energy, etc and therefore they will be charged at a higher cost.

I won’t extend myself beyond what I’m capable of. And I won’t deliver information or teachings that I’m not comfortable delivering.

Boundaries as Sacred Responsibility

This is a bit of a continuation. Healthy boundaries are essential to sustainable spiritual leadership, even if they disappoint people. Leaders cannot be endlessly available, constantly accessible, or permanently open. Boundaries ensure that the leader’s own energy, wellbeing, and practice remain intact. They ensure that the community receives considered, grounded guidance rather than exhaustion-frayed scraps of attention. A leader with no boundaries can’t lead for long.

Being blunt about it, a leader with no boundaries will burn themselves out. Usually, quickly. That’s whether being physically available for consults, or spiritually available for teaching. Some teaching requires a lot more energy form the teacher, and the student should be grateful when a teacher realises they should wait before teaching it. It’s safety, it’s consideration, it’s common sense.

Leadership Without Ego

Ego has no place in genuine spiritual leadership. True leaders make space, not empires. They guide without demanding devotion. They stay rooted in humility, continuing to learn, listen, evolve, and question. And they don’t seek to create dependency but to foster sovereignty. The role isn’t about being elevated above others; it’s about being in right relationship with the work, the community, the land, and the divine.

Now look, we’re all human. We all have egos. That’s not what I’m talking about. But a spiritual leader should be able to put that ego aside and do what’s best for the community. And sometimes, that means taking a step back and letting someone else lead. Or even, taking a step back and letting someone continue on their path without the leader.

Sometimes, it means letting a student make a small mistake now, to prevent a larger mistake later.

And sometimes, it means realising we’re not the right person to help this student and leaving them go.

A Call to Discernment

As you navigate your own path, consider what spiritual leadership looks like in practice. Not the titles or branding, but the behaviour. Look for people who share responsibly, who act with integrity, and who don’t flinch from offering uncomfortable truth when needed. And if you’re stepping into leadership yourself, remember that your words carry weight. Your guidance matters. Your boundaries matter. And your discernment, more than anything, shapes the path you help build.

Rest

Rest is a common enough theme for me at this time of year. This year though, I’m feeling a pull towards more. More rest? Certainly. But a different kind.

Even the weather agrees. Yesterday, it lashed down all day. Ag stealladh báistí you might say.

Today? Well look below.

Even the weather is encouraging rest! A picture of my garden, surrounded by fog. Trees are vague shapes in the background, the sky is various shades of grey, but at least the grass is green!
Yes this is what I woke up to this morning. Well this is a couple of hours after I woke up cos a pic at 7am would just show black…

It’s not that I was planning on a massively active day today, or anything. But when the weather agrees with my own inner feelings, my gut… sometimes it’s ok to listen.

Privilege

Yes, it is most certainly a privilege to talk about rest right now.

Iran. Ukraine. Yemen. Gaza. Sudan. And so many others. (Yes that line is copied directly from my threads post yesterday!)

The people in those places, and many places in the US, I’m not forgetting ye, can’t afford to rest right now. They have a fight to wage. And they’ve been waging it – for years in some cases.

So, when I say I’m recognising my privilege, I mean it.

When I’m talking about rest for me right now, I’m talking about the space before stepping back in. The stillness in allowing flow, rather than forcing issues.

I’m thinking about space that comes before the action.

So what rest do I mean?

The earth is still resting for the year. Oh, we can see the signs of growth, the small green shoots coming up, the signs of life returning after the stillness of the winter.

(Although “stillness of winter” isn’t too accurate in Ireland!!)

And if, like me, you have been resting over the winter and are now looking to do something, you might be thinking “more rest????”

Fair. But listen to me a while.

For those of us not currently in an active war zone (ahem… “active” and “warzone” are open to interpretation here, side eyes to a certain Turtle Island government) we can take time, regroup, and then be ready to step in.

It might not be an option for you in your whole life, but maybe there are parts of your life that you can use this time for rest. Maybe you need to think about areas where it’s just not the time to be pushing right now.

There are areas of my life where pushing, chasing, forcing issues – it’s just not the right time.

It’s still time for planning, preparing the ground, resting.

Examples?

I want several things to happen this year in work. But now isn’t the time to chase them.

  • a promotion for a team member
  • knowing what my bonus and merit increase is
  • what are the plans for the business in the coming 2-3 years

I already have an idea about timelines for all of these and while I might want to know, right now, right this second, there’s no point in forcing this issue.

But areas I can move forward on:

  • my personal activities in work
  • gathering evidence to support my promotion activities
  • taking the next logical steps for the current ways the business is going

It’s amazing how, no matter how many different businesses I work in, I see the same patterns for the year…

It works in my personal life as well. I can’t force us buying a house. But I can make the daily steps that will lead to that at some point in the future.

I can take a rest from relentlessly pushing forward on my spiritual path, but still take the time to assimilate and bed in the learnings and changes so far.

It’s ok for an activity or a time to not look productive.

Rest as an act of rebellion

Again – this is privilege.

But rest, time spend not being productive can be an act of rebellion in a world that demands productivity at all times.

Time spent assimilating and re-grouping before the next round of activity is not laziness, not evil. It’s essential.

And it’s a lot easier for the various “bodies” (government, societal, religious, political, etc) to control us when we don’t give ourselves time.

Our minds and bodies need time to rest. Need time to not be productive. Not be a willing cog in the machine.

As women, we carry a lot. (It’s multiplied by Black women, women under oppression, women in war zones… intersectionality, remember???) And sometimes, even a single deep breath can feel like an immense act.

I get it.

But think about where in your life you can rest right now. Where do you need time for assimilation?

What is it ok to stop pushing?

And simply… rest.

Energy is rising!

I’m lucky that the energy is rising at the time I most need it.

Yes, I am re-using this song. It’s a great song!!!

Now, I get it. You might be thinking, wasn’t last week’s blog post all about energy? Well, yes, it was.

But I want to get more focused this week. On specifically, the energy I can use and feed off – and the energy you can use as well!

Energy rising?

Look, I know. Ireland at the minute is having a cold snap. There was frost ALL over this morning.

Unfortunately, not bad enough for an excuse to stay home from work, but still…

OK granted, not much energy rising in a picture of a sheep in a lightly snowed landscape (this looks similar to my garden this morning but it was too dark to get a pic!) Picture is of a sheep in a snowy, Irish field, hills in the background and a lone tree standing.
No, this isn’t my garden, it was took dark to take a pic, but it’s a close representation

So, why am I talking about energy rising? Because the earth is stirring. I can feel it. Below the frost, there is energy. New life is starting.

I mean, the sheep in that pic doesn’t look pregnant, but there’s a chance she is. (Unless it’s actually a ram – my sheep expertise mostly runs towards staying out of their way, to be honest)

The days are getting longer. Not massively, as yet, but definitely there’s a few minutes each day. On 21st December, we technically had 7hrs 29mins of daylight. Today? We have 7 hrs 43 mins.

I know 14mins doesn’t seem like a lot, but trust me on this, ok?

We use this elsewhere as well

Much of the New Year, New Me energy builds from this as well. It’s riding a wave of rising energy. We’re emerging from the winter darkness. And ok, the darkness is still there, but we can see the light approaching.

Now, I’m not a fan of completely overhauling your life as that blog post will show. But there’s a means to engage with the energy without overkill.

For me, this is the time to prepare for planting those seeds. Not actually plant them yet, but get ready for it. Make sure the soil is prepared, ensure there’s water and nutrients and rest and everything ready. Clear the decks for growth so to speak.

How can we do this?

Well, here are some options:

  • clear up any loose ends from before the holiday season
  • help the energy move by moving yourself
  • help the energy move by giving the house a good scrub – or however you can manage a clean.
  • clear out your head! (More on this later)

What I will be doing

Well here’s the thing. Mostly, life will be continuing as normal. However, there are a few things I will be doing to make use of the energy.

This morning, I’m wearing a nice outfit for work. A green dress, with brown boots and a brown cardie. Dressing nicely does help me in the gloomy mornings. And the boots are comfy, but also give me a “fuck off” walk, which helps a lot in work these days when everyone is all eager-beaver and trying to catch up on all the stuff they didn’t finish before Christmas!

But there’s another reason to dress differently. It helps me rotate my clothes. So, I’m not doing a massive clear out or anything, but by taking a few minutes every day to assess a different outfit from my usual “work top and plain trousers”. It’s a way for me to migrate from the pre-holidays “Christmas outfits every day” to more standard fare.

I know it won’t last. But it’s nice while it does.

I’m also making a list of shorter jobs that need doing, but I just don’t get around to. So, for example, I had some candles melt really weirdly a few months ago – I just need to clean up the candlebra so I can use it again. Will take about 15mins, but I’ve just not done it yet.

Riding this wave of new year energy, I’ll make a list of similar things to be done and tick off as many as I can.

What I won’t be doing

Even with the energy rising, I will not be overhauling my life. I’ve learned over the years, that while it’s possible to use the rising energy of the year to do this, it doesn’t work for me in terms of lasting change.

Energy rising in January is more about clearing the way, laying the foundations, that sort of thing. So no, I won’t be starting a massive new exercise routine. I won’t be implementing a whole new nutritional plan.

I definitely won’t be committing to hours and hours of “self care” in the form of expensive treatments, time consuming hobbies, etc.

But this is your busiest time of year?

Yes, it is. And I will be surfing that rising energy wave all the way to March. Possibly April, to be honest. But it’s about the small actions for me right now.

Look at this list for items to do in January in an Irish garden. There’s mostly prep work and continuing work going on, not new work. That’s my approach.

So, yes, I will be setting some things up for Imbolc. I will be organising some online rituals, will probably be holding a retreat for the occasion. I will be helping people lay the ground work for the coming year.

Remember!

The calendar year is just that – the calendar year. It was set by Julius Caesar, with some accommodations by Pope Gregory XIII in the late 16th century.

There’s nothing really magical or innovative about having a New Year in January, other than we all need a bit of celebration in the winter. You can start afresh at the beginning of each new moon, new month, new day, new hour…

But it’s worth considering carefully how to take advantage of the rising energy and optimism of a clean new year.

(And, if you can, try not to feed the horrendous things being done by the US in particular, but also Israel and Russia in the new year. That’s not the sort of energy we really need to be rising right now! If you have energy to work on it, fight as best you can, however you can!)

Spiritual freedom: If you prick us…

… do we not bleed? Spiritual freedom is today’s topic and I’m feeling angry.

Spiritual freedom was not a thing in Shakespearian England: To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
The full quote from Act III, Scene I, The Merchant of Venice

Shylock’s quote from The Merchant of Venice is oft quoted as speaking to the humanity of Jewish people. I mean, context is a thing here, but I want to explore a few things today that is strongly linked to this.

Brigid’s Path

I speak about helping women find their spiritual path and recover from strict, rigid, patriarchal, religious rules. Usually, I help them find the path that’s right for them. I help them find the spiritual freedom that has eluded them so far. That doesn’t mean abandoning the religion of their youth. Not always.

It can mean deconstructing and re-learning the core truths of that religion, in a way that strips the whole process of the patriarchal bullshit.

It can mean walking away and never engaging with that religion again.

It’s about what’s right for the person I’m working with.

Why am I talking about this?

Bondi Beach

The shootings on Bondi Beach, the murders on Bondi Beach, have the global Jewish community reeling. It’s very soon after the Manchester murders. It’s definitely a sign of rising anti-Semitism across the globe.

But as the article from the Irish Times points out – it’s no better for Muslims right now. Islamophobia is rising as well. (Yes, there are countries – plural – that has Islam as the majority religion, whereas there is only one – singular – where Judaism is the majority religion).

People are often shocked when I won’t decry one religion or the other. I don’t know why – again, I work with (mostly) women to help them find the spiritual freedom they crave!

I will speak to religions I know about – mainly the Irish flavour of Roman Catholicism, and sometimes Christianity more generally. But the faith at the heart of that religion? They all generally come down to the same issues.

  • Treat people right
  • Be decent to each other and the land and the animals
  • Don’t be an asshole

Ok, the technical definition of the above changes according to times and seasons and places, but that doesn’t mean they are wrong, as such.

Spiritual Freedom

I believe, deeply, that we all have the right to spiritual freedom. And by that – I mean, the right to practice our spirituality as long as it doesn’t impact on other people in a serious way.

Because someone told me earlier that lighting a candle in public impacts on other people. Seriously?

90% of my spiritual practice involves lighting candles and you want me to agree it’s wrong?? Go to hell.

Gathering in public doesn’t not, inherently, impinge on your life. Otherwise, people would have limits on how many teenagers are allowed in one place at one time…

Hang on…

It’s not about the religion

It’s about people seeing differences and being uncomfortable.

  • they dress differently
  • they speak a different language(s)
  • attending religious ceremonies on a different day!
  • eating weird food

I hope it’s obvious where I’m going with this.

It’s not about the religion.

Really, it’s about excuses. Deep down – it’s about not wanting to have to learn.

It’s about discomfort and it being easy to just write people off.

I’m just not here for it, people.

Human Rights

According to the Hague, the 18th Human Right is:

18. Freedom of thought and religion

Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.

You see? This is basic shit.

Either we stand for all or we stand for none. In the end, I’m the wrong person to come to, expecting to see me decrying an entire population.

I live in the liminal too often.

I’ve said it before, I will say it again:

This is not about fucking religion.

Control? Sure. Fearmongering? Absolutely. “Othering” folk to make sure that fearmongering keeps strong? Definitely.

So, don’t let them fucking win. Remember – the power is with the people. Vote. Protest. Write. Phone.

Do whatever the hell means you have to remind your friends, neighbours, politicians that these people are just that: people.

Think about it: if people can refer to one group as vermin, who will they come from next?

If there’s a religious group that’s a legitimate target, what happens when they’re all gone?

What are you willing to put up with?