Category: Spirituality

How did Brigid take up space?

The last few weeks have been a roller coaster of feeling small and how it affects us. So, today I want to talk about the different ways in which Brigid takes up space.

And, possibly more importantly, how we can learn from it!

The death of a son

I’ve spoken about Ruadhán’s death before on the blog. And there’s a whole course on the excerpt over in the school. So, I have a lot to say about this aspect of Brigid. But today, I’m going to talk about her taking up space.

Primarily, in the enemy camp of the Fomorians.

Seriously – Brig followed Ruadhán to his father’s presence in the Fomorian assembly.

But after the spear had been given to him, Rúadán turned and wounded Goibniu. He pulled out the spear and hurled it at Rúadán so that it went through him; and he died in his father’s presence in the Fomorian assembly. Bríg came and keened for her son. At first she shrieked, in the end she wept. Then for the first time weeping and shrieking were heard in Ireland. (Now she is the Bríg who invented a whistle for signalling at night.)

– Cath Maige Tuired: The Second Battle of Mag Tuired

I mean, on the one hand, she was the wife of Bres (at one time anyway) and the mother of the dead child. So, we’re looking at someone who could be deemed to belong there.

But equally, she had fairly obvious strong ties to the Tuatha De Danann camp, potentially far stronger than a rotten marriage to a deposed king.

Was this a safe place for Brig?

Probably not. But she took up the space she needed. She keened. Mourned her son. And did what needed to be done.

Brigid taking up space – and food

OK, so the myriad of ways in which Brigid takes space and food throughout her hagiographies is vast.

A picture of Brigid's Garden Well in Kildare. A physical Brigid takes up space here! (Although the statue isn't in this picture!!)
Brigid, taking up space in Kildare!

She gives away butter – then makes sure the dairy provides what’s needed for the family anyway. She feeds an old hound from the meat meant for guests, and still manages to have enough for the guests. (Although in that case, the guests felt ashamed by her actions and decided to give their food to the poor in imitation of her actions)

 Every store of food which she saw and served used to grow. She bettered the sheep: she tended the blind: she fed the poor.

– On the Life of St. Brigit

Not to mention the time she gave away a valuable chain and her nuns came to her complaining they’d no money for food and clothes, when she came out with this zinger:

‘Ye are sinning,’ saith Brigit: ‘Go ye into the church : the place wherein I make prayer, there will ye find your chain.’ They went at Brigit’s word. But, though it had been given to the poor man, the virgins found their chain therein.

On the Life of St. Brigit

Blackmail always an option…

… in God’s name of course

Brigit went to Bishop Ibair that he may mark out her city for her. So they came thereafter to the place where Kildare is to-day. That was the season and the time that Ailill son of Dunlaing, with a hundred horse-loads of peeled rods, chanced to be going through the ground of Kildare. Two girls came from Brigit to ask for some of the rods, and they got a refusal. Forthwith all the horses were struck down under their loads against the ground. Stakes and wattles were taken from them, and they arose not until Ailill son of Dunlaing had offered unto Brigit those hundred horse-loads; and thereout was built Saint Brigit’s house in Kildare.

On the Life of St. Brigit

I mean, blackmail might not be quite the word here, but it’s certainly implied blackmail.

Sure what would the man be doing with that many rods anyway???

Standing up for justice

Now you might think that Brigid didn’t have much to do with justice, but she freed captives.

Brigit went into the province of Fir Ross to loosen a captive who was in manu with the King of Ross. Said Brigit: ‘Wilt thou set that captive free for me?’ The King replied: ‘Though thou shouldst give me the realm of the men of Breg, I would not give him to thee. But go not with a refusal,’ saith the King. ‘For one night thou shalt have the right to guard his life for him.’ Then Brigit appeared at the close of day to the captive and said to him: ‘When the chain shall be opened for thee repeat this hymn, Nunc populus, and turn to thy right hand and flee.’ Thus it is done, and the captive flees at the word of Brigit.

On the Life of St. Brigit

OK that’s one captive, but still…

rigit, and certain virgins with her, went to Bishop Mél, in Telcha Mide, to take the veil. Glad was he thereat. For humbleness Brigit staid, so that she might be the last to whom the veil should be given. A fiery pillar arose from her head to the ridgepole of the church. Bishop Mél asked: ‘What virgin is there?’ Answered MacCaille: ‘That is Brigit,’ saith he. ‘Come thou, O holy Brigit,’ saith Bishop Mél, ‘that the veil may be sained on thy head before other virgins.’

It came to pass then, through the grace of the Holy Ghost, that the form of ordaining a bishop was read over Brigit. MacCaille said that ‘The order of a bishop should not be (conferred) on a woman.’ Dixit Bishop Mél: ‘No power have I in this matter, inasmuch as by God hath been given unto her this honour beyond every woman.’ Hence, it is that the men of Ireland give the honour of bishop to Brigit’s successor.

Yup, she was ordained a bishop and hence the honour of a bishop and precedence was granted to Brigid’s successor – until 1169 when the then successor was raped by Dermot McMurrough’s troops and divested of her station. (And then threw in McMurrough’s niece as reverend mother who then in turn, gave up her precedence to take her “proper place” behind the men…)

Not to mention healing a leper and then re-infecting him because of his behaviour afterwards.

What can we learn from this?

Sometimes, we have to venture into discomfort to learn things. I’m not one that says every bad experience is a teaching moment – well ok, maybe I am, even if the teaching moment is that some people are assholes. But there are times when we, like Brigid, take up space in ways that just isn’t comfortable. Discomfort doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just means it’s not comfortable and not habitual.

Sometimes, taking up space makes us a target in ways we don’t like. That doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile or that we avoid doing it. Sometimes, you feel the fear and do it anyway. At other times, you look at the risks and decide something isn’t worth it.

But don’t take the smaller stance just by default. Because there isn’t a clear way to win then.

Brigid was born of a slave – according to the hagiographies. And her mother is completely unknown in the pre-Christian lore. Her husband was a bad king. Her child(ren) (depending on which lore you’re reading) was (were) killed. Justly or unjustly, depending on your point of view.

And yet she endures. She was ordained a bishop. She founded a monastic institution that resonates through the centuries to us. We hold her close as Poet, Smith and Healer.

Brigid took up, and still takes up, space. In Ireland and elsewhere.

If she can do it, so can you.

Taking Up Space: A Spiritual Rebellion Against Patriarchal Power

Let’s name it: the feeling of being small in a patriarchy.

Women feeling small isn’t just a personal struggle against the patriarchy. It’s a systemic strategy. It’s how rigid, patriarchal religions have kept their power for centuries—by convincing women that silence is sacred, that obedience is holy, and that shrinking is spiritual.

But here’s the truth: your soul was never meant to be small.

The Doctrine of Disappearance

Many traditional religious structures have taught women to disappear. To be quiet. Serve. Submit. To stay in the background while men lead, speak, decide, and define. And by “traditional”, I mean patriarchal as well…

And it’s not just about roles—it’s about energy. These systems thrive when feminine energy is suppressed. When intuition is dismissed. And softness is mocked. When power is hoarded.

Listen, feeling small isn’t a flaw—it’s a consequence.

A cartoon of a massive hand with extended index finger pressing on a very small figure. Interpreted in this case as the feeling of being small in a patriarchy
Reduce, re-use, recycle applies to online as well!!

The Spiritual Cost of Shrinking

When women shrink, the world loses balance. And by women feeling small, the patriarchy finds its job much, much easier.

We lose the healers, the visionaries, the truth-speakers. Lose the wisdom that comes from cycles, emotion, and deep knowing. We lose the sacred feminine—and with it, the wholeness of spiritual life.

And let’s be clear: this isn’t just about religion. It’s about any system that tells you your voice is too much, your body is a distraction, your leadership is unnatural.

Taking Up Space Is Sacred Work

Taking up space isn’t arrogance. It’s alignment.

It’s saying: My soul is here for a reason.
Or saying: I will not apologise for existing.
Maybe it’s saying: I trust my voice, my wisdom, my presence.

When you speak up, you disrupt centuries of conditioning.
By leading, you rewrite spiritual history.
When you take up space, you reclaim the divine feminine.

Resistance Looks Like Radiance

You don’t have to burn down the temple. You just have to stop shrinking inside it.

No need to fight every battle. You just have to stop abandoning yourself.

Being loud isn’t obligatory. You just have to be whole.

This is how we dismantle the old systems—not just with protest, but with presence. With truth. With women who refuse to be small anymore.

Your Space Is Sacred

So speak. Lead. Shine.
Take up space in your workplace, your community, your spiritual circles.
Take up space in your own life.

Because every time a woman expands, the world shifts.
Every time a woman stands tall, the old structures tremble.
Every time a woman says, “I am here,” the divine feminine rises.

And that, my darlin, is holy.

Speak Your Truth: The Spiritual Cost of Staying Silent

It’s a lovely idea, isn’t it? That being quiet, diligent, and dependable will naturally lead to recognition and growth. That people will just know what you want. That your energy will speak for itself.

But here’s the truth: silence can be a form of self-abandonment.

You can work hard, stay on top of everything, and still be overlooked. Not because you’re not good enough—but because you haven’t claimed your space. You haven’t spoken your truth.

In the spiritual world, we talk about alignment. But alignment requires clarity. It requires communication. The universe responds to intention, not assumption.

If you don’t speak up, no one will know what lights you up—or what drains you.

No one will know that the weekly report feels like a soul-sucking chore and you’d rather it be shared across the team.

No one will know that you have a master’s in data science and that your soul sparks at the idea of diving into that new project—unless you say it.

Silence doesn’t protect you. It hides you.

On a beige background, there's three black streaks with the words SPEAK YOUR TRUTH written on them.
You don’t necessarily have to be extremely loud, but you can be proud!!

Repetition Is a Spiritual Practice

Sometimes, you have to repeat yourself. Not because people aren’t listening, but because energy takes time to shift. You’re planting seeds. You’re training the soil.

Think of it like teaching a toddler how to tie their shoes. You don’t say it once and expect mastery. You guide. Rinse and repeat. You hold space for the learning.

So if there’s something you want—something that feels aligned with your gifts—keep saying it. Monthly check-ins. Casual conversations. Intentional nudges.

Trust me, you’re not being annoying. You’re being clear. The Universe takes time to shift…

Taking Up Space Is Sacred Work

Taking up space isn’t just about career progression, or expanding a group’s awareness or educating people. It’s about soul expansion.

Consider walking into rooms with your full energy. Trusting that your voice matters. It’s about choosing connection over comfort.

Sometimes, it means chatting with someone new over coffee. Sometimes, it means sharing your expertise with a project lead or a community action leader. It means speaking up in a meeting or a full room—even if your heart is pounding.

If you’ve ever sat in a meeting thinking, “I know more about this than they do,” then it’s time.

Say the thing.

Don’t Make Yourself Small

The world will try to shrink you. Don’t help it.

At first, you might need a plan. One sentence in a meeting. One email to your manager. One moment of courage.

You might feel awkward. Might chicken out. You might say it and feel exposed.

But you’ll survive. And you’ll grow.

And you might just find that people are listening. That your words carry weight. That your presence shifts the room.

So don’t hide. Don’t fade. Don’t wait.

Step forward. Speak your truth.

Take up the space.

Feeling Small: The Silent Saboteur of Your Soul’s Expansion

Feeling small doesn’t always look dramatic. It’s not always tears or breakdowns. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Subtle. It’s the way you shrink in meetings. The way you hesitate to share your ideas. The way you convince yourself that your voice isn’t needed.

But here’s the truth: feeling small is a spiritual wound. It disconnects you from your power, your purpose, and your presence.

Let’s explore how it shows up—and how it holds you back.

Saying “Yes” When Your Soul Screams “No”

You keep saying yes. To tasks. Meetings. The next course. A new book. You do it to be helpful, to be liked, to avoid conflict. Or because you feel like you need this. But it’s not from your soul.

And every yes that isn’t aligned chips away at your energy.

Spiritual cost: You lose touch with your inner compass. You start living for others, not from your truth.

A cartoon image of a huge hand with pointed index finger landing on a very small human figure.
Best cartoon I’ve found for “feeling small” and it’s from Erin Lo’s website.

Hiding Your Light

You stay quiet. Don’t share your insights. You let others take the spotlight—even when you know you have something valuable to offer.

Tell yourself it’s humility, all you want. But really, it’s fear.

Spiritual cost: Your gifts go unused. Your soul feels unseen. You start believing you’re not meant to shine.

Dimming Your Achievements

You downplay your wins. Brush off praise. You tell yourself it’s no big deal. Sure anyone could do it, right? Except…

But your soul knows better. It knows how hard you worked. It knows how much you’ve grown.

Spiritual cost: You disconnect from your own worth. You stop celebrating your journey.

Over-Apologising

You say sorry for existing. For asking questions. For taking up space.

But you were never meant to be small. You were meant to be whole.

Spiritual cost: You reinforce the belief that you’re a burden, not a blessing.

Not Asking for What You Desire

You wait. You hope someone will notice. Hope the universe will deliver without you having to speak.

But manifestation requires clarity. It requires action. It requires you to name your desires.

Spiritual cost: You stay stuck. You live in longing instead of alignment.

Internalising Every Critique

You take feedback as proof of failure. Replay mistakes again and again and again. You let one comment define your worth.

But your soul is resilient. It learns. Evolves. It doesn’t need perfection—it needs compassion.

Spiritual cost: You lose confidence. You stop trusting your own wisdom.

Avoiding Sacred Conflict

Look, we all do this. You let things slide. Stay silent when boundaries are crossed. You avoid discomfort.

But conflict, when conscious, is a path to healing. It’s a way to honour your truth.

Spiritual cost: You betray yourself. You miss the chance to grow and to teach others how to treat you.

Reclaiming Your Soul Space

Feeling small is not your destiny. It’s a pattern. And patterns can be broken.

Start by noticing. Then by choosing differently. Speak your truth. Honour your desires. Celebrate your wins. Set your boundaries.

You don’t need to be loud. You just need to be present.

No one is demanding perfection. You just need to be real.

Forget about permission. You already have it—from your soul.

So step forward. Take up space. Let your energy expand.

You are worthy. Powerful.

You are here for a reason.

Effects of colonisation in Ireland

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post showing some of the effects of colonisation in Ireland. But this week I want to explore it in more detail. Because, I think some people just don’t get it.

Y’see, to understand colonisation, you have to consider profit and loss. Check out this quote from a Trinity College Dublin post:

One thing is clear, imperialism was – and is – about the acquisition of territory, about settler colonialism, about the exercise of political and economic power, and about violence and coercion. Strategies about how best to turn conquest into profit, to marshal, mobilise and control natural resources, especially land and labour, varied from empire to empire but the often grim reality of everyday life did not change and provoked a wide variety of responses ranging from acceptance, accommodation, assimilation and innovation, to resistance, rebellion and deadly colonial wars.

Imperialism and colonialism are two sides of the same coin in my opinion – although of course there are differences between them. For those of us not running in the academic area in question though, let’s just go with it.

Natural resources

Prior to the colonisation of this island, Ireland was covered in trees. In fact, on the Teagasc history of forests in Ireland, the claim is made:

It was said that a squirrel could travel from one end of Ireland to the other without ever touching the ground as more than 80% of the land was covered by forests.

A common misconception is that the Irish forests were lot due to the need for oak in England. It’s not entirely true. The forests were down to about 20% of the landscape by the time the 16th century came round, but it’s certain the colonisers were more concerned about extracting wealth from their new land than about husbanding resources for future generations. While the move from 80% coverage to 20% coverage took about 5,500 years. The last 20%? Less than 300 years. So it’s not all the Brit’s fault, but y’know – #nevernotatit.

The same with our animals, our land, our food… we covered in the post on the Great Famine about how Ireland was feeding Britain by the 19th century. Starving ourselves, but feeding them. Even today, Great Britain imports 46% of its food. (The numbers for Ireland are much more difficult to figure out, but in 2023, we exported approx €18billion and imported €13billion – but a good €4billion of that import was from Northern Ireland. And y’know… is that really importing?)

But the fact is that while under colonial rule, Ireland got poorer. Or at least the native Irish got poorer. Our landlords weren’t much better, but most admit that was due to mismanagement, lack of care and generally grinding the land to the finest dust to get the most money out of it – through that need to conquer and subjugate, inherent in the whole notion of colonisation (in Ireland and elsewhere).

Language and culture

Colonisation has had a massive effect on Irish culture and language. Anyone from pre-1600 Ireland would be appalled at some of the changes made in our land. Particularly in our language.

Now, it has to be said that the Brits didn’t technically murder anyone for speaking Irish as a law. Nowhere in the Penal Laws was it illegal to speak Irish. in 1737, a law was passed to say Irish couldn’t be spoken in court. But aside from that, the Penal Laws were far more focused on religion rather than language.

However.

And there’s always a however.

To get an education – you pretty much had to speak English.

Any professional job – needed English.

Irish was seen as the backward language of the peasantry, and shameful in “enlightened” quarters.

This is an excerpt from the Museum at Home Country Life handout from the National Museum of Ireland. It outlines the introduction of free primary school education across Ireland, where reading, writing and arithmetic were taught. It also highlights the punishment a child got from speaking Irish - a direct consequence of colonisation.
An extract from the Museum at Home Country Life handout from the National Museum of Ireland

The above handout can be downloaded in full here.

Pádraig Pearse is the person credited with the phrase “tír gan teanga, tír gan anam”. (A country without a lanuguage is a country without a soul). And the Brits did their best to beat the soul out of Ireland in that case. You see, language influences the way we think, as well as the way we speak. Want an example?

Well, in Irish, you say “Tá brón orm” or “sadness is upon me”, rather than “I am sad”. It’s the same for all of the emotions. They are something that comes upon you, not something you inherently are.

Think about that for a minute. Think about how that would affect the way you think about feelings and emotions? I’m not saying the Irish before colonisation were sane, perfectly mentally healthy and all that. But what I am saying, is that colonisation in Ireland has left an indelible mark on the way we think about things.

Not just language

And no, it’s not just language. We would not be so inherently dependent on the spud for so long if it weren’t for colonisation. Ireland might have had a different effect on the global culture without colonisation.

The amount of emigration this country has suffered, we’ve still not recovered the population we had before the Famine. In either the 32 counties or the 26+6, whichever way you look at it, colonisation led to the loss of our people. Ireland has suffered. And ok, there are folks who maintain that emigration was a benefit to Ireland.

I don’t agree with them. Yes, there are benefits to fluency in English – although many from Great Britain would not agree the Irish are necessarily fluent in the language. And there are many influences still evident within the way the Irish speak English, that come directly from Irish. But you can look at Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Finland for places that don’t speak English as a primary language but manage quite well in the world.

You could say that access to the Commonwealth, not to mention the British Army, was a way for Irish emigrants to manage abroad. Except that pre-colonisation, Ireland had contacts all over the place. Particularly in Europe, but further afield as well. And had Ireland remained a sovereign nation, there’s no reason to believe that would have failed.

Ireland and colonisation

It’s only really now, 100 years after the 26 counties gained independence, that Ireland is acknowledging its post-colonial trauma. Really, it’s only in very recent years, we stopped looking to Britain for how we go on in the world.

As a nation, we are reaching deep into ourselves to see how we want things to change and things to be different. The ongoing, regular protests about the housing crisis is one such example. The pressure on the Irish government to do something about boycotts or sanctions on Israeli settlements in Gaza is another.

Our people lean far harder to James Connolly and the concepts in the Proclamation of Independence, than it does to the highly restrictive environment that took over the country in the mid-20th century.

The Irish Republic is entitled to, and hereby claims, the allegiance of every Irishman and Irishwoman. The Republic guarantees religious and civil liberty, equal rights and equal opportunities to all its citizens, and declares its resolve to pursue the happiness and prosperity of the whole nation and of all its parts, cherishing all the children of the nation equally, and oblivious of the differences carefully fostered by an alien Government, which have divided a minority from the majority in the past.

– excerpt from the Proclamation of Independence

We actively look to be open and inclusive. We were the first country in the world to gain marriage equality rights by popular vote. (Thank you, referendum!) While the far right is trying to gain a foothold in our nation, the perpetrators are highlighted as being foreigners, trying to force the Irish into a fascist regime that very few people on the island want. We’ve done our share of colonisation. We’ve started to stand up and acknowledge that whatever the UK and US think – we have minds of our own and we’re willing to go against them when necessary.

Yes, we offer great tax breaks to foreign multinationals willing to base operations in this country. It gives employment to our people. Yes, there are advantages to doing exams in Irish. We want our language to be a living vehicle for our people.

Our housing and healthcare could do with a massive overhaul. Absolutely.

But we’re in charge of our own destiny and we’re no longer looking outside our country for what’s right and wrong. Because we realise that all those centuries of being told we’re dim, stupid, less than, barely human… we’re shaking them off.

Society: privilege and duty

I was planning a post on colonisation this week to follow on from last week’s one on the Great Famine. But then a conversation at the weekend got me thinking about society instead. And our place within it.

What are our duties to society, as members of that group?

Now, I’m using society here as others would use “culture”, “land”, “people”, “tuath”. I mean the people we live with, the laws we (mostly) abide by, that sort of thing. What do we owe our communities? Our families? Ourselves?

A cartoon image of a bunch of people - loads of them, all different sizes, shapes and colours, trying to represent what society is. Or might be...
People make up society

Let’s define what we mean by society

As you were reading that list of things above you were probably thinking all these are alternatives to society, but don’t really tell me what the damn thing actually is, Orlagh. So cough up!

Dictionary.com comes to the rescue:

the aggregate of people living together in a more or less ordered community.

I mean, of course there are other meanings. It can also mean a group of people coming together because of a specific shared interest, or High Society, where we have defined a subgroup of people within a broader context.

But really, we use society when we’re talking about the people in an area. Sometimes as large as a whole continent, sometimes as small as a single street. It doesn’t really matter.

It’s the people that make up the group. And how those people behave make up the social norms for that group. So, as we go through the rest of this – and I’ll give you the context in the next section – remember, we’re talking about people. Sure, we’re going to mention organisations, groups, individuals, officials, all sorts. But they’re all people at their hearts.

(OK most of them are people – I have my doubts about some!)

The context

I was talking to a friend at the weekend about the experiences of women during investigations into sexual assaults (SA) and rape. And to start with, he was very much of the opinion that it was a woman’s duty to society report the rape and go through the investigation. Now, I vehemently disagree with this, but being the lovely person I am (and he’s a good person really, just hadn’t thought about the consequences of his line of thought) I kept on speaking with him on the topic.

I know – I’m a saint! (<– sarcasm)

We spoke about some of my experiences with various forms of SA. And how I didn’t report the vast majority of them and why. I explained how women have used “gossip” for generations to warn others of violence or misbehaviour, and why they couldn’t come public about any of it. I spoke of the many, many ways various religions and state organisations have made it so women are not safe to come forward about these things publicly.

But, he replied – that’s not modern Ireland. We’re different. Our society is different. We treat women better.

Are we though?

The following is a series of links to the SA and rape cases I remember in the last decade or so. Please don’t click the links if you’re not able to:

The Thong case.

The Belfast rugby case.

Meath rape case.

Kildare.

Let’s be clear – I could list at least one case from pretty much every county in Ireland. And the treatment of people is improving slightly, but it’s not there yet.

Women are equal in society, but their behaviour is more on trial than an accused rapist in these cases.

He changed his mind

I turned it around then and said I hope his daughters would never face that decision. That got him thinking. He started thinking of the individual women in the case then as people not just victims. He started thinking of the effect on his family, his daughters.

Now to be clear – this man is fairly well educated in these matters. He’s a feminist and walks the walk most of the time. But he has a few blind spots and this was one of them. We talked through what it means to be part of an investigation for SA or rape. We talked about the “rape kit“, re-traumatisation of victims – even with the best of intentions!

OK, we talked through a lot.

Or at least agreed to think about a woman’s “duty” to society in these cases. Because while I agree it’s ideal if a woman can report a SA and/or rape, there is a huge physical and mental toll to doing so.

Which brings me back to the original thought that prompted this post.

What do we owe the society in which we live?

Do we owe it our mental health?

Our privacy?

Our sexual history?

Careers?

Families?

Children?

Relationships?

Where do we draw the line?

What aboutery in our society

The worst part about this is that, it’s such a personal decision for everyone. Gisèle Pelicot took a very brave decision to waive her right to privacy to aid in the prosecution’s case (as far as I understand it. I may be wrong with regard to her reasons mind!) And then she had to go back to court to prove that while she had waived her right to privacy in that one regard, she had not waived it in general.

Now, Mme Pelicot is a class act in general. Her award from the second case has been donated to two charities, helping women. She is some woman, to say the least!

But hers was a relatively “straightforward” place. She was drugged and sold and raped without her knowledge.

What about the woman who has had a glass of wine?

Or who dressed in a way some might find sexy?

Or who – God forbid! – wore a lacy thong?

The whataboutery in our society when it comes to this sort of thing is horrendous. And when reporting crimes of this nature, we have to take into account the effect it will have on ourselves, our families and our society.

So what do we owe our society?

I don’t think we owe our society our privacy, our mental health, our history. What other crime demands so much exposure from the victim?

I said on Saturday I would never suggest to a woman to go to the Guards post-SA. And I defended my position. Because it can be immensely re-traumatising. It’s not something anyone should be forced into, or even have to be talked into. It should be something a victim arrives at by themselves.

I feel very strongly about this.

Now, I write and teach about Brig Ambue – the one who looks after the weak and helpless and less fortunate – literally the cowless. And looking through as many of the texts as I can stomach, the Brehon laws were big on reparative justice. Not confinement – that was for hostages, and even then… not always.

So, what do you think Brigid – in any of her guises – would say about the way we treat victims in this way? To be clear – the Brehon Laws were not brilliant in cases of SA with get-out-of-jail cards for if a woman was in a pub without her husband, or was in a populated place and didn’t call out…

Not perfect. But was it any better than what we force victims to do?

The Great Famine

The Great Famine. The Famine. An Gorta Mór. The Great Hunger. I’ve mentioned it before on the blog, but today, I want to delve a bit deeper. For those wanting a historical approach, I strongly recommend Finn Dwyers The Great Hunger series on his podcast, the Irish History Podcast. Over about 40 episodes, he really dives into the Famine, exploring the common narratives and a few things that we as a nation would prefer to brush over. (Yes, there is evidence of cannibalism for example. And yes, we did manage to fit in a rebellion even during the Famine years…)

As to why I’m choosing today to write about this? Well ok, I owe ye a blog post for this week and I’m a week behind for those who pay for the early access option! But also, because I’m being asked a lot from various people about why the Irish are so affected – even now, 180 years later – by stories from around the world on hunger, genocide, oppression…

A lot of people don’t understand the trauma that comes from an event like this in history. There are loads of authors writing about this from all sorts of perspectives – go onto Google Scholar and search for “Irish trauma famine”. Although, honestly, if you search hard enough, you’ll probably find someone, somewhere has written a paper and interpreted the evidence to suit your current views.

An image of the Great Famine memorial in Dublin. The Famine statues, in Custom House Quay in the Dublin Docklands, were presented to the City of Dublin in 1997.
The memorial for the Great Famine in Dublin

So let’s start with the facts

The Famine started with the failure of the potato crop in 1845. The failure of the potato crop meant anyone who was depending on the potato as their main source of food was screwed. It ended in 1852 (ish) despite the British government’s attempts to decree otherwise!

Now, to understand why this is, we need to get into absentee landlordism, colonialism, etc. Basically, Ireland at the time was part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, after being sold out by the Ascendency in 1800, with the Act of Union. The bastards. They all then decamped to Britain (not all, but absentee landlords were a fact of life in Ireland and the so-called middleman system.

Rent collection was left in the hands of the landlords’ agents, or middlemen. This assured the landlord of a regular income and relieved them of direct responsibility while leaving tenants open to exploitation by the middlemen. The ability of middlemen was measured by the rent income they could contrive to extract from tenants. Middlemen leased large tracts of land from the landlords on long leases with fixed rents and sublet to tenants, keeping any money raised in excess to the rent paid to the landlord. This system, coupled with minimal oversight of the middlemen, incentivised harsh exploitation of tenants. Middlemen would split a holding into smaller and smaller parcels so as to increase the amount of rent they could obtain.

– Great Famine (Ireland) – Wikipedia

Can you see some of the issues with this approach? Yeah?

Land doesn’t produce crops year after year after year, especially not the same crop, without failing in some nutrients or other. That’s a basic of crop rotation and leaving land fallow. But the Irish tenant didn’t have that luxury. And frankly – spuds were the only crop that could feed a family of 10+ on a quarter acre or less…

You throw in the fact that most of these families also had to labour on the landlord’s land as well, and didn’t get compensated for any improvements they made to the property, could be kicked off at a moment’s noticed (you think “employment at will is bad?) and well… it was a shitshow.

Just for context now, there were approx. 100,000 deaths due to the potato blight across the rest of Europe. Ireland lost 1,000,000+. (To famine. We lost another 1,000,000 to emigration)

But why?

Along with most families having to survive on spuds, most of them were surviving on a particular type of spud. One we don’t hear too much of anymore for some reason: The Irish Lumper. Perfect for growing in low nutrient, wet land. Perfect for Ireland, right?

But not when the majority of the population was depending on it for survival. The exact nature of the blight has been identified as Phytophthora infestans, which also affects tomatoes, apparently. Tomatoes were not a major food stuff in Ireland in the 1840’s. Just FYI.

The Irish Lumper though? That was the foodstuff of the poor. And a lot of Ireland was poor. The population had exploded in the 18th century, from approx 2,000,000 in the last years of the 17th century (so the 1690’s, when the Williamites and Jacobites were ravaging the country) to over 8,000,000 in the 1841 census (Finn Dwyer suggested in one of his episodes that was probably an underestimation as the census takers avoided some of the wilder and more remote parts of the country and so missed a fair few people)

So the land was under more and more strain. The people were under more and more strain. In previous famines, of which there were many, the ports closed to food stuffs. In this one?

Prime Minister Sir Robert Peel wrote to Sir James Graham in mid-October that he found the reports “very alarming”, but allayed his fears by claiming that there was “always a tendency to exaggeration in Irish news”.

– Great Famine (Ireland) – Wikipedia

The British government’s primary motive appears to be to not stifle private enterprise. Weirdly to modern ears, the Torys were slightly more effective than the Whigs. As one Charles Trevelyan said at the time:

We must not complain of what we really want to obtain. If small farmers go, and their landlords are reduced to sell portions of their estates to persons who will invest capital we shall at last arrive at something like a satisfactory settlement of the country.

And yes, that Trevelyan.

While there were elements in Britain that recognised this was wrong, the ruling parties and the Ascendency saw it as their rights to cleanse the countryside.

The phrase from John Mitchel’s The Last Conquest of Ireland (Perhaps), published in 1861, sums it up best, I think: “The Almighty, indeed, sent the potato blight, but the English created the Famine.”

The Great Famine – the basics

1845 – 1852

1,000,000 died

1,000,000 emigrated.

No, Ireland has not yet reached the levels of population from before the Famine.

Less than 25% of Irish (growing) soil was devoted to growing spuds. >75% were devoted to foodstuffs exported during the Famine.

In History Ireland magazine (1997, issue 5, pp. 32-36), Christine Kinealy, a Great Hunger scholar, lecturer and Drew University professor, relates her findings: “Almost 4,000 vessels carried food from Ireland to the ports of Bristol, Glasgow, Liverpool and London during 1847, when 400,000 Irish men, women and children died of starvation and related diseases. The food was shipped under military guard from the most famine-stricken parts of Ireland; Ballina, Ballyshannon, Bantry, Dingle, Killala, Kilrush, Limerick, Sligo, Tralee and Westport. A wide variety of commodities left Ireland during 1847, including peas, beans, onions, rabbits, salmon, oysters, herring, lard, honey, tongues, animal skins, rags, shoes, soap, glue and seed. The most shocking export figures concern butter. Butter was shipped in firkins, each one holding 9 gallons. In the first nine months of 1847, 56,557 firkins were exported from Ireland to Bristol, and 34,852 firkins were shipped to Liverpool. That works out to be 822,681 gallons of butter exported to England from Ireland during nine months of the worst year of the Famine.”

– Learn | Ireland’s Great Hunger Museum

Technically, this wasn’t genocide. The British government were not trying to murder the entire population. Just – slim it down a bit. (<– sarcasm there, people) After all, 8,000,000 is an awful amount of people taking up valuable land the Ascendency could be using to enrich themselves.

(Sorry, I keep trying to just give a list of facts here and it’s not possible)

Why isn’t the Great Famine genocide?

Mainly because the Brits weren’t trying to eliminate everyone of the Irish race from the face of the planet. That’s it. The fact they saw the elimination of the 25% of the population from the island as a good thing, is beside the point. They weren’t trying to kill us all.

It’s really that simple.

Plus – let’s face it – the British Empire have form in this regard. There were 12 famines in India during British Rule.(24 in Ireland during British rule, but to be fair it took them an extra 450 years or so to get to India) (Check out this list for loads more worldwide, not just British Empire)

It still doesn’t change the fact that had the ports been closed and the food that had been grown in Ireland, kept in Ireland, the Great Famine would have had far less of an impact on the nation.

Why am I writing about this now?

To explain the empathy and relationship the Irish feel with Palestinians. Honestly, most of us have no issue with Jews or with the fact that Israel exists.

But we have major issues with children, or indeed anyone, being shot trying to get food.

Major issues with people starving with food waiting for them a few miles away.

Massive issues with hospitals, schools and other public institutions being bombed.

That sort of thing strikes a chord in our hearts, because we recognise the Israeli tactics.

We recognise the punishment of an entire population for the actions of a few.

We know what a family member will do to get food and water for their tuath.

Collective punishment is something we got really familiar with during British occupation. The only reason the Brits didn’t cut off water and electricity in the North was because the communities were too intertwined. But where they could cut people off, they were known to do so. They didn’t give a shit about hungry children, starving babies.

To be clear – this is not an endorsement of the actions of Hamas on 7th October, 2023. That too was horrendous, horrible, grievous, painful attack that should never have happened. Babies, children, the elderly – no one was spared.

But the numbers don’t add up:

1200 Israeli causalities, 800 of them civilians

5000 people injured

240 hostages taken.

All of which is traumatic to a nation open to attack pretty much on all sides.

But there have been more than 50,000 Palestinians killed since then.

And I understand the deep need to have the remaining 50 hostages returned to Israel. When there are so few people in the nation, the loss of even 1 feels personal to everyone. The loss of so many and under such gruesome circumstances… horrendous.

But it doesn’t make the killing of 16,000 children ok.

Do human lives come down to numbers?

This isn’t a numbers game. But there comes a time when it is. The Irish know what it’s like when a colonising force initiates collective punishment. We know what it’s like to have brother turned against sister, parents against child, people turning to ever more dangerous acts to either escape or get food or just to do something.

The Black and Tans in Ireland were probably the best IRA recruiters of all time. And the current Israeli forces are probably the best campaigners for gaining sympathy for Palestine right now.

To the people who have lost family, friends, loved ones – it doesn’t matter whether they were one of 1200 or one of 50,000. The loss is the same to that person.

But to governments, to aid workers, to the rest of us – it has to matter.

Israel has better fire power, better funding, better weapons, better intelligence, better everything.

I keep getting told that if the IDF wanted to, they could have wiped out the whole of Palestine in a week after 7th October. And maybe they could. But they haven’t. They’ve gone for a slow, extended death of a people, rather than a surgical strike. There are reports of some truly inhumane thinking.

This approach has links to Trump’s calling immigrants “vermin” or worse. It has echoes of the Nazi approach to Jews in the 1930’s and 1940’s. it has definite shades of the British approach to Ireland – not just during the Great Famine, but throughout their occupation.

Some lives are worth more than others is the start of a very, very slippery slope to second class citizens and a very divided society.

And if you’re a Brigid follower – think of Brig Ambue.

Brigid as Bridge

Brigid as a bridge gives me the heebie-jeebies. Seriously – it’s usually based around some horrendous fake etymology surrounding the traditional Anglicisation of the Irish Bríd to the English Bridget. People take off the “t” and go straight to “bridge”.

It’s not the case. As we know, Brigid comes from Brig, which is linked to being exalted, high, that sort of thing. Nothing to do with bridges at all.

A picture of the kinda-bridge like structure from Brigid's Well in Kildare. On a particularly Irish kinda damp day.
Decorative bridge type structure from Brigid’s Well in Kildare

Bridges are liminal spaces though

OK, even I have to admit that Brigid has a relationship with liminality. And bridges are liminal spaces. They hover between land, sea and sky – much like Brigid herself.

So it makes sense that bridges can be linked to Brigid – of course it does. Bridges connect us. They span the world. In Norse mythology (not Irish, but still), the Bifröst bridge spans Midgard (earth) and Asgard (land of the gods). Now I can already hear practitioners of that spirituality lamenting that I’m over simplifying and it’s not that straightforward. I’ve no doubt they’re correct. I’m not a devotee of that spiritual path. Brigid keeps me busy enough, thanks all the same.

But I suppose my point here is that bridges are recognised as liminal and magical spaces. Across multiple worldviews. They’re magical in and of themselves – allowing us to cross water and depths without injury or getting wet. Those of us familiar with the various bridges across the Liffey in Dublin are particularly grateful for this, since that water isn’t healthy for anything as far as I can see.

Bridges connect disparate worlds and places, joining the un-joinable. Traversing the depths and engaging with the deep.

Brigid as bridge

And we know that Brigid has traversed the depths as well. As the Irish left these shores, they took her with them. She served as a bridge for those left behind and those gone abroad. For many years, “biddy” was a term used in the US for “Irish female domestic servant” and even until the 80’s and 90’s was a recognised diminutive of the Irish name Bridget. Just check out Glenroe.

Brigid essentially ignored the apparent divides between Christianity and paganism in Ireland and kept supporting her people. As bridges do – they don’t usually determine who and what can cross them other than design features. And even then… many old bridges were massively over-engineered for what they were holding.

Much like Brigid.

She doesn’t have the glamorous jobs in the TDD. She doesn’t really have a frontline job at all. Even in Caith Maigh Tuired, she is the representative of the land for Bres to marry, and is Ruadhán’s mother. Her power, her works, her deeds are mostly lost to us.

But we see fragments of that power left for us. In Cormac’s Glossary, her protection of poets was great. She commanded the royalty of ox, boar and rams. She appears as the (potential) mother of the three gods of skill (or the three sons of Tuireann, whichever way you read it).

Glamorous doings

Brigid and bridges have that in common – neither are particularly glamorous. And I mean that in sincerity. They operate in the background, half the time we don’t even notice they are there. But they serve functions without which we’d be lost.

Why is this coming to me today?

Well, I’ve been reading about the so-called LA riots over the last few days. (Listen, I was alive during the ’92 riots in LA. Those folks know how to riot. And the pictures I’m seeing right now aren’t in the same league at all. Protesting doesn’t automatically equal rioting…)

And I’ve been seeing a lot of advice about how to manage yourself on a protest and how to engage with the protestors online. Through some really interesting feeds. And there’s a few things that I’ve said before, but that bear repeating:

  • If you’re not physically able, these protests probably aren’t for you. That doesn’t mean you can’t help. But you don’t have to be in the frontlines.
  • Be sensible about your abilities and bandwidth. If everyone is on the frontlines, then no one is about to bail people out afterwards.
  • Protestors need safe routes for escape, potentially shelter from – apparently the National Guard???
  • Food and water are great. So are toilets. Be practical people!

And you know – there are loads of other bits of advice out there as well. If you can do nothing else – spread the stories. People see a mass of people on telly chanting slogans at the police (and dear gods above, when did the LAPD turn into the voice of reason here???) they think riot.

But what about Mary who travelled from San Diego because her cousin is a Latino in LA and she wanted to be sure he was safe? Or John, who lives in LA and sees the ICE crowd as the Gestapo of modern US, and wants to oppose the takeover of his government/constitution.

People respond to stories. People respond to people. That’s why person-interest stories do so well in the modern media.

Yes, movements need leaders, and visibility, and coverage. But they also need the links between communities and people to bring the movement alive.

So, ok… Brigid as a bridge

I give in that Brigid can be related to bridges. And I know from the stats I see on here a huge amount of my audience is US based. Or at least using US internet IDs. So here’s my challenge.

How are you going to be a bridge then? How are you going to support your communities, link your communities, serve as a transit for those who need to know each other and work together?

What are you doing to bring people together?

What are you doing to traverse the depths of misunderstanding and find the overlap between people and communities to make the overarching community better?

Are you willing to do the dirty work, the hard work, the hidden work?

Brigid’s Path: the path forward

I know the Path Forward is one of the more complicated parts of Brigid’s Path to explain. Really, it comes at the point where you’re ready to move forward on your own.

Brigid's Path: the Path Forward can be as lonely as this Irish country road - it doesn't technically have grass in the middle, but it's close!
This is a not untypical Irish country road…

And how do I explain what that looks like, when it’s so bloody individual?

But here’s where the value of the Collective comes into its own…

Brigid’s Path: the path forward

So, here’s the thing. At this point in the journey, you’ve done the internal work. Gotten to know yourself. Reconciled the past. Found your joy. Determined your knowledge.

Basically, you have a really strong foundation built for yourself. But on Brigid’s Path, the path forward is yours alone. You take the decisions and decide what way you’re walking. (Or y’know, rolling, crawling, hobbling, etc…) And it can be overwhelming. Or… enough to have you stopping walking the path altogether and scuttle back to – well not safety exactly, but the familiar.

I know – I’ve been round this particular block a few times. Several… hundred… or so. Brigid has been extremely patient with me.

And at times, she’s smacked me up the head with some information she feels I’ve not been paying attention to. She’s usually right.

So determining what your path forward looks like is really up to you. There is a lot of meditation and visualisation work in this session(s). We workshop what your path forward looks like – for now anyway. Things change – and we’ll deal with that in the final step.

But for now – we’re looking at the things you’ve identified on your path with Brigid so far, and looking at the path forward for you.

Unique?

Yes. I firmly believe that while many of our paths might overlap, we each walk our own path. There’s no point in walking someone else’s path. Their path will be fully appropriate for them. It might almost fit you, but you want something tailored exactly for you.

Not something that almost fits.

I’ve said this over and over and over again, even in this short post. I know.

But it’s worth repeating, again and again and again.

This isn’t about finding someone else’s path. This is about your path. What works for you, your life, your desires, your responsibilities.

If my path worked for you – sure, you could copy it. But I’ll admit, very readily, my path won’t work for everyone. In fact, my path won’t work for most. I’m odd and strange in many ways and the way I walk Brigid’s Path is no different. Your path forward might overlap with mine. You might for example have a keen interest in diversity and inclusion, as I do. But you might have a focus on race or ability rather than my focus of gender diversity in engineering.

And that’s great. We need more people working in all these areas, as this enriches Brigid’s Path for everyone and our collective road forward.

Why the focus on the individual?

Because that’s where our “traditional” or “organised” religions are failing us. They come up with a list of rules and conditions and structures that work for those people creating them. And they forget that these might not work for everyone. In fact, there an extremely strong possibility they won’t work for everyone. The whole point of stepping outside these strictures is to construct your own path.

So, the individual is what’s important here. That doesn’t mean you can’t use some of the traditional structures you grew up with, if they are supportive and helpful. A few “Hail Marys” is a great way for me to calm my body and focus my mind, to be honest. But that’s not for everyone. And I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone.

Brigid’s Path is based on the individual. It means more work. More effort on your part. There are very few, if any, shortcuts. Sometimes, you find yourself going back to first principles, over and over and over again. It gets discouraging., at times. So, yes, there is 100% focus on the individual, but by taking part in the Collective you can gain the support and cheerleading of your group.

And oh man, does that come in useful!!

I know this is fairly vague – no more than Brigid’s Path itself!

And that’s partly because of the individual experience here. There are a number of meditations and visualisations to get through. There a lot of discussions around what will and won’t work for you. Whereas with the first four steps, there is a fair bit of overlap in the activities being done, with the last two – it’s extremely individual.

And that’s ok.

The important thing is to remember this is your path to walk!

Brigid’s Path: Reconcile the past

When I say reconcile the past, most people think of trauma they endured and things that happened to them. And that is part of it. But it’s also about things we have done to other people. And to ourselves. So, let’s dive in and be honest with ourselves for a bit!

(Why yes, this is the second post in a row on the steps on Brigid’s Path. And yes the 2025 cohort of the Brigid’s Path Collective is currently open for enrollment if you are interested. But it’s also bloody important work to be doing!)

What does reconciling the past mean?

Does it mean being happy with everything you’ve done and everything that’s been done to you? Absolutely not. There are things I have done, both to myself and to others, in the past that I couldn’t be happy with them.

But I can understand my behaviour. That’s key. No one but me walked me down that path to an eating disorder. I was the one that chose to engage in seriously risky drinking and sexual behaviour. My physical condition is a direct result of some very unwise decision making when I was younger. All of that has led to consequences in later life that I have had to deal with.

Does that mean I blame my younger self for this?

Well, there was a time when I did. There was a time when I was so angry with myself, I went through a period of decades long self-loathing. That self-loathing both provoked the unwise behaviour, and that unwise behaviour provoked more self loathing.

Reconciling my past has been a long tough road and it hasn’t really involved time travelling and changing what happened. If anyone know how to do that, let me know, but for now, this is the road I’m on.

A picture of an Irish country road with more potholes than road. A pictorial representation of my reconciliation of my past... Reconcile your past early and this might not happen!!
If there was a pictorial representation of my life’s journey…

Acceptance

In my life, the hardest lesson I ever had to learn was to accept where I was and how I was. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to change things. Far from it. But it meant I accepted that this was who and what and how and where I was at that moment in time.

I know there are some of you out there that are wondering how do you not know who, what where and how you are? Well, I am strong in the self-delusion gene. Or the hiding from myself one. Or the pure lying to myself.

Seriously – I have decades of experience of telling myself I’m happy when I’m not. Or of making sure “mind over matter” is my mantra. Of having all sorts of intricate thought processes that just hide the reality from myself so I don’t have to deal with it.

Yes, this included spiritual bypassing. It is a self-defense mechanism and there were times in my life I needed that. But, if you remember from the previous post on this topic, getting to know yourself also includes recognising those times when you don’t act in your own self-interest. Or at least, not your own long term self-interest.

The biggest lesson I had to learn in reconciling my past? Acceptance. First, I had to accept that I had done things, said things that were hurtful to myself and to others. I had not acted or lived in a way aligned with my values. I had papered over cracks, ignored all sorts of signs and symbols and indications. Reconciling myself to the harm I had done to myself was toughest of all.

Damage

After all, the damage I have done to myself is probably the deepest of all. And I can recognise now that I was a transphobe. A homophobe. Sex negative . Not inclusive. For many of the things I now hold dear, I once stood on the other side of history. And there are doubtless beliefs or actions I hold right now that I will need to accept and heal in the future.

When you know better, do better. (Maya Angelou, we miss you!!)

This doesn’t excuse the harm I did, before I knew better by the way. Part of reconciling my past is to actively work to heal the damage I did. Some of the damage, it’s not in my power to heal – so I work on paying it forward and living in a way that at least doesn’t perpetuate further harm.

And yeah – that has meant losing friendships. Relationships. All of it.

But I have to accept that I did the things that caused harm.

Understanding

Acceptance doesn’t mean you beat yourself up for the rest of your life, by the way. I’m not spending hours each day whipping myself for being a transphobe when I didn’t understand what being trans meant. And – to be fair – I probably still don’t understand all of it, but I’m more prepared to accept that when someone tells me they’re a specific gender, I should just go with it. Cos frankly, there are very few people in this world who’s genitalia I’m interested in. And I can barely manage to dress myself, so why would I worry about what other people are wearing.

If it all comes down to it – other people’s gender expression doesn’t bother me too much in the grand scheme of things.

But holy fuck, I took a long time to get here!

Reconciling with my past also means dealing with my younger self. Because she was a very unhappy person, even when she seemed happiest. She was very often miserable and at war with herself, even when she was laughing and joking and acting like there wasn’t a care in the world.

It’s hard to live like this. It takes so much energy. There’s no spare to engage with things you love. Hobbies go out the window. People laugh at me now for my large collection of books. For reading all the time. But in actual fact, that was a coping mechanism, a survival mechanism, for a long, long time. Accepting that I didn’t really love reading so much as I needed to escape into worlds where the good side usually won and the bad side usually lost and bad things got dealt with… that took a long, long time.

Coping

I had to accept that possibly, one of the defining characteristics of my life – reading – wasn’t really so healthy. That even healthy, laudable habits, when taken to extremes, become unhealthy.

That coping mechanisms – whether books, food, drink, exercise, medication, sex – when taken to extremes, aren’t coping mechanisms anymore. They’re millstones round your neck. It doesn’t matter how healthy the habit is, when it’s taken to extremes, it’s no longer healthy.

And let’s be clear here – what’s an extreme for you might be normal for me and vice versa. You’re the one who gets to decide when a glass of wine at work moves from coping to problematic. Or when that daily run becomes an obsessive behaviour rather than a helpful one.

No one else gets to dictate to you how to live your life. But one of the key stages in any reconciliation is that stage where you are figuring out the patterns that used to work and no longer do. And the signs that what was an excellent, useful coping mechanism is now a weight. And needs to change.

You can’t change the past

And some of the things that need reconciliation may need outside help. I’m not the person to engage with if you’re starting to work on childhood abuse or trauma. There are important psychological processes at work there that you may need professional psychological and/or psychiatric help with.

But I can help with the other stuff. The learning to engage with your younger self. Understanding the drivers that are currently influencing your decision making. Making you aware of the forces acting on you – whether it’s guilt or shame or joy or an outdated sense of self.

And it’s important to do this work, because you can’t move forward easily with all that weight hanging from your neck.