Tag: escaping rigid spirituality

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.

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.

Brigid myths

A picture of the mural in Drogheda, with one half showing a green cloaked nun and the other a red haired goddess. Brigid myths might have you believing one or the other, but really - at this point - there's no concrete evidence.
The mural by Belfast-based artist Friz in Drogheda, celebrating both saint and goddess

It was Imbolc this weekend past (well depending on when you celebrate it) and wow, were the Brigid Myths flying. So, I thought I’d settle a few bits and bobs here. And, as always with Brigid, there’s a lot of fuzziness and liminality at play.

Brigid Myth 1: She’s only a goddess that the Christians stole

I’m gonna be honest here, I struggle with this one. Because stealing old celebrations and overplanting them with new Christian ones was a definite feature of the early Church. Just check out Gregory the Great. As far as the thinking went, it made it easier for people to convert if they didn’t have to change where they worshipped and if there was a fine building there anyway, why bother knocking it down and rebuilding. The early Church was a great proponent of the re-use/ re-cycle methodology of spreading the faith.

In his more recent episode, Finn Dwyer of the Irish History podcast explored the possibility that St. Brigid was a real woman, as opposed to a mythical figure. I’ll leave his episode below for you to find out his final conclusion.

Brigid Myth 2: She’s only a saint that the neopagans stole

I mean, ok, there’s a bit more evidence for this thought process. There are, after all, only 4 bits of pre-Christian lore (all recorded well after Christianity came to these isles) on Brigid the goddess. (You can check out my very brief intro to these four bits of lore, for free, here)

We have, in fact, far more writings about the saint than we do the goddess. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t exist. There are suggestions that it is possible Brigid was brought to the shores of Ireland by… of all things… a group of Brigantes in north-east England. (Well, modern day north-east England. I don’t think England existed at the time as an entity)

I know it seems terrible, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, and occasionally, something good comes out of England. (My husband would be another example…)

Brigid Myth 3: She’s meek and loving and mild

Sweet holy fuck no. Look I’m sorry. But the swearing is necessary. There’s a reason I called this place the Forge and not the Soft, Cushy, Temperate Place.

Brigid is hot. Fiery. Have a temper. Even in the hagiographies of the saints they couldn’t hide this. This has to be one of the worst Brigid myths out there. And it’s lulling people into a false sense of security. No. Just fucking no.

I mean she can be. But it’s more in the way of a tough doctor who has been through some shit and can be soft when they make a big effort and someone really, really needs it. Just stop with this one.

Brigid Myth 4: Goddess of hearth and home

Look, I get it. It’s an off shoot of the “meek and mild” bollox. It’s not true. We don’t have anything linking her to hearth and home.

As a goddess, she is a Poet (Old Irish sense of lawyer, creative writer, academic), Smith, and Healer. Gonna be honest – all of these have until the very recent past been male dominated professions. Yes there is a sense she may have been a woman-physician, as a physician that caters to women. But it’s still a tough gig. And none of the above professions lend themselves to a domestic goddess. (Pun not really intended there)

I get the idea of being linked to fire. I get it. But it’s not in the lore.

I don’t know where in the name of Jesus this came from. We have no real links between Brigid and bread. Dairy – butter in particular – oh yes. Oodles of links in fact. Domesticated animals? Absolutely, goddess and saint.

But bread???

Not really.

If you want to bake bread as part of your Imbolc celebrations, more power to you. The Irish consider bread an essential utensil in the whole “moving the butter to the mouth” process. There’s nothing better than a loaf fresh from the oven, dripping in fresh butter.

But there’s nothing linking Brigid to bread directly.

Brigid Myth 6: There’s no need to pronounce the B in Imbolc

Ok, not technically a Brigid myth as such. But definitely linked to my rising blood pressure this weekend. For this one, I even did an insta video on the topic.

(And if you’re not following me over on Instagram, sure you can drop that at the same time)

But there is most definitely a B to be pronounced in Imbolc. It is not “Immolc”.

Brigid Myth 7: There is One True Day to celebrate Imbolc.

Again, this is more Imbolc than Brigid, but sure, feck it, the two are intertwined in modern times.

There are a number of says and times to celebrate Imbolc. I most often celebrate on 31st January. Because it’s the eve of St. Brigid’s Day (1st February). Other people choose “astrological Imbolc”, the midpoint between solstice and equinox (this year, that’s today, 3rd Feb). Still others link their festivities to Candlemas, 2nd Feb.

And, if I’m being really honest, since Ireland recently got a bank holiday for the occasion, if there’s a big ritual or group event I’m doing, it’s going to be on that bank holiday weekend.

While in the modern world, we like to think of dates being right, correct and accurate, it’s not always the case. I know people who celebrate Samhain from dark moon to dark moon, since they view it as a season, not a single night. I kinda do the same with Imbolc, but it’s most of January and some of February.

Most of the traditions in Ireland happen around the 31st January. Check out Duchas for more on that. But remember, your spiritual path has to fit your life. What you do in private is up to you and no one else.

Don’t be calling things traditional that aren’t though.

Finally…

We had all the usual shite about Brigid being associated with this crystal and that colour. We had the arguments over 3-pronged vs 4-pronged cross. All the usual stuff. I’ve given up engaging with it at this point. Although I will be trying to do a video showing how I do the 3-pronged cross. Cos, yeah – it’s the 3rd February and I’ve not made my crosses yet this year!

I hope this helps. Please share it where you think it might do some good!

Listening to ourselves

I struggling with listening to my body. And I think this is something we all struggle with: listening to ourselves. Even when we desperately need rest!

Last week started by me being attacked by the shed in our garden. (Pic of similar shed below for entertainment purposes) I came into work and said the shed had jumped out at me and hit the car.

Everyone knew what I meant. Everyone realised I didn’t actually believe the shed had jumped at me. If ever a shed existed that is unlikely to jump anywhere, it’s the stereotypical Irish stone shed.

I'm fairly certain we could learn from this shed about listening to ourselves. It's a stone built Irish shed, with corrugated roof and one slit window, one slightly square window, grass in the foreground. It's doing nothing but what it's built to do!
Very typical construction here

What was going on?

Apparently, either an ear infection, a sinus infection or a wonderful mixture of both. On finally heading to the doctor later, he decided the nuclear option was best and put me on antibiotics. And painkilling cream in case it was my jaw.

Why am I bothering telling you this?

Because I didn’t back into the shed, ahem, I mean, the shed didn’t attack me, completely unprovoked, because I was on top of my game. I was dizzy, tired, sick, and probably, in hindsight, shouldn’t have been driving.

Small details.

The key thing is, I’d been fighting something off for weeks. It wasn’t quite bad enough to take time off work, or, horror of horrors, actually go see the doctor. But it was bad enough to make my life miserable. If I’d been better versed in listening to myself, I might have picked up on just how bad I’d felt sooner.

But I didn’t. Because I have been well schooled in the art of not “listening to ourselves”.

Listening to ourselves in a world which doesn’t want us to

Y’see, if I had listened to myself, I might have realised that this thing wasn’t going away. It had been operating in my system and my system was kinda containing it, but not really defeating it.

And a cold/flu/ear infection/ sinus infection thing that’s lasting for a month? Probably needs something more than Vick’s Vaporub to fix it.

I had work to get through.

I’m working (slowly) on a part time doctorate.

Running Brigid’s Forge and EngineerHer.

Managing home, school and work.

There’s a lot on. And I’m not saying this, because I think I’ve got it worse than anyone else. We’ve all got a lot on.

The modern world is not made for simplicity.

And that’s all before you take into account the shitshow that’s currently going down in numerous places across the world… (but, y’know, hard side-eye towards the US here)

It’s easier for the world at large if we don’t listen to ourselves. It’s easier for our families, our workplaces, everyone, if we just keep on keeping on.

And there’s times we have to do that New baby, audit in work, major project… whatever it is, there are times we actually do have to keep on keeping on. But not always.

And we fall into the trap. We cope, because we see no other way.

Listening to ourselves leads to failure, or dropping the ball on something.

Hard lessons

One of the strongest lessons I learned earlier in my career was when I was off work, sick, for 3 months. I came back and checked in with my boss on all the things that were deemed so important, so vital to the running of the business.

90% of them hadn’t been kept up while I was away. So, I took a radical step. I stopped doing them.

If they weren’t important enough for someone else to pick up, then why was I wasting my time? I immediately freed up almost 20hours a week.

HALF MY WORKING WEEK.

I had been running myself ragged working on reports, presentations, information… that nobody really needed.

I had most definitely not been listening to myself.

Now, mind you, I’m a slow learner. That wasn’t the first, or indeed, the last time I work myself sick. Last week was a minor example of it.

But we have to ask ourselves: when we don’t listen to ourselves, what good are we to our people?

Whether our people are family, friends, colleagues, dependents, whatever – what good are we?

That old thing about no one praising someone at their funeral for spending all that time in the office?

The Act of Radical Listening to Ourselves

I read Louis Hay‘s work on racial self care years ago. It’s a bit dated now, but there is some good stuff in there. First and foremost, she advocates listening to ourselves. Our bodies. Our souls.

And taking the time to rest and allow these messages to come through.

In a world where the powers that be appear to want us chaotic and confused, resting and knowing ourselves (those of us with the privilege to do so, of course) is radical.

It’s an expression of intent.

Or an invitation for care.

Rest.

Absorption and integration.

(And while we’re on the topic – yes, you can grab a limited spot on the upcoming Imbolc retreat to do just this, if you wish)

But in the meantime, think about how you can build in listening to yourself as a continual thing. How do you build in rest when it’s needed? How do you recognise you need rest? (Highly recommend not backing into the shed as a wake up call. Seriously!)

Is it meditation? Time away from everyone? Regular catch ups with close friends? How do you best build in that time?

Drop me a line and let me know!

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.

Decisions and consequences

Today I’m going to talk about decisions and consequences. I understand this is a break from the Imbolc related topics of the last few weeks, but it’s needed given some of the rhetoric showing on various social media over the weekend.

But first I’m going to talk about some decisions I made over the weekend and the consequences of those decisions.

Some background

I may have mentioned in my newsletter over the last few months, how I’ve had some changes in my digestive system. And how I’m (mostly) avoiding carbs for now.

This is not down to medical advice, this is down to me observing that most carbs appear to be causing me diarrhoea. Now, I don’t want advice for this, ok? I’m good with where I am and I have to admit that much advice out there on this topic can trigger my disordered eating problems. Please bear that in mind as we go through this.

So, spuds, chips, crisps, pasta, rice, wraps, bread… and it’s not gluten, either. Cos the gluten free stuff – even when I make the bread myself – causes the same effects. There’s no medical reason for this, my body has just said, no.

Thankfully, I am still able to eat chocolate, so the people around me are safe, but it does lead to certain choices.

Decisions and consequences

Which brings me to the weekend.

An image of LANA in lights, the LAna logo. Gorgeous food, but my decision to have chips led to consequences.
I love the food here, but the chips were a decision I should not have made…

See, I’d gone all day with no food. I’d had a coffee, so things were ok, but then our lodger reached out saying he’d not managed to have lunch and was getting a takeaway. (Hence the Lana pic above)

Now I love Lana’s food. It’s great. I’m sure any Asian person of any persuasion would look at the food and shudder at how un-authentic it is. I’m fairly certain it’s Asian food altered for Irish palates. And it bloody works.

I especially love their crispy roast duck with plum sauce. Which comes with chips, steamed rice, brown rice, noodles, spicy chips or egg friend rice. Now, I’ve been avoiding their chips for the last few months, cos again – extreme diarrhoea. It’s not normally worth it.

But last night – oh my gods, I was starving. And I could feel those chips crunching in my mouth. So I said, fuck it and ordered the chips.

Decisions and consequences people.

It took about 30mins after eating before my stomach started complaining, and I spent the next 4 hours or so heading in and out to the toilet. To say it was less than comfortable is an understatement.

Why am I telling you this?

Well, a) to remind myself that making this particular decision was still probably worth the consequences. But also b) because of the rhetoric I’ve seen on social media all weekend about US people “calling down” goddesses in general and war-goddesses in particular.

Why am I writing about this?

Well because there appears to be an essential disconnect here in those who are just coming to the knowledge that goddesses exist and the consequences of poorly thought out decisions they might make.

I’ve have said over and over again that building relationships is the way to go with the Irish pantheon in particular. From speaking to other practitioners dealing with other pantheons at the weekend, it appears like most spiritual beings prefer some relationship before you ask them for a big, massive favour.

And then comes the accusations of gatekeeping.

It appears that warning potential practitioners or newcomers that there might be consequences to their decision to call on a goddess of war is gatekeeping that goddess.

It wasn’t what anyone was saying, but hey ho. Here we go.

I see it over and over again

People coming from a (mostly) bloodless religion like Christianity (in the present day: I’m well aware of the bloody history of the Catholic Church and probably most of the other churches under the umbrella of Christianity. Just cos Ireland wasn’t converted by the sword doesn’t mean I’m unaware of it happening elsewhere) aren’t used to consequences spiritually speaking and practically speaking for decisions they make.

Don’t believe me?

How many Christians have made God a promise in a time of crisis and then forgotten about it?

“I’ll never do X again, if only Y happens”

Ring any bells?

In my experience, the Christian God doesn’t take that personal a role in His followers’ lives. It’s a safe enough religion in that respect.

That’s not the case with most of the pagan deities. Maybe it’s because there are fewer pagans in the world than Christians. A quick google search tells me there are about 3,000,000 pagans in the world, spread out over thousands of deities, but there are somewhere between 2,300,000 and 2,600,000 Christians in the world, all looking to one God.

But either way, a pagan goddess will not let you away with that shit. They expect you to keep your word or deal with the consequences of your decisions.

Yes, your decisions have consequences

This is something white women in the US in particular appear to be waking up to. Renee Good’s murder appears to have woken up the white woman community in ways the deaths of Keith Porter and others (check out this map here) did not. Better late than never, definitely. And we’re not diving into racism here, cos, y’know, I only have so much energy.

But there appears to be this attitude of entitlement. That once someone hears the name of a deity, they can just “call them down” to fix the mess. And pointing out that this decision might have consequences beyond our current understanding is treated as gatekeeping.

It’s genuinely not.

It’s trying to help people.

The amount of people who think they’re entitled to help from Irish deities because they have a great, great, grandparent from Ireland, but know nothing about us, our history, our geography, our politics, our social issues, our people… it’s concerning.

And the fact that so many people are willing to put themselves out to try and save these newcomers to the non-Christian spiritual world? It’s amazing.

But it’s not fucking gatekeeping.

I mean, is it gatekeeping to keep a child from putting their hands in the fire?

So, what can you do if you are just starting out?

Well, first off, read up on the deity you’re looking at. Preferably from native sources. That means, if it’s an Irish deity you’re thinking about, read from an Irish author. Not someone who moved here 6months ago and claims to know everything! Fuck’s sake, I’ve been living here most of my life, and I don’t know everything.

I spent over a decade in England and I wouldn’t claim to know everything about them either. (Although I know enough… and I did marry one…)

Pray. It’s an under-used form of spiritual work.

And put some practical work into this mess, as well as spiritual work.

Gotta be honest, I’m not sure why the Morrigan would be overly interested in the US, but she might help some of her followers there. Brigid? Maybe, she travels a fair bit, but again, don’t expect an easy right of it.

Practical work?

Yeah, practical work.

I know protesting isn’t for everyone. It’s definitely not for me – I can’t handle the crowds. But here’s some stuff I’d be looking into if I were in the US right now:

  • Financial support. Money is needed. Bail, medicines, fuel, food…
  • Childcare
  • Administration
  • Organisation
  • Clean up
  • Call or email your elected representatives
  • Educate yourself and in particular in the US, look at the Black and Native educators out there. If I can find them from Ireland, you can find them as well.
  • Offer save havens for those returning from protests or going to protests.
  • Be a witness

I’m sure I’ve forgotten loads of stuff here and y’know, you can google as well as I can. Not everyone is built to be a front line warrior and not all of us have to be. Supply lines, support staff, all these people are important as well.

Back to decisions and consequences

No matter what decisions you make, there will be consequences.

If you choose to get involved physically and in person, you may be isolated, attacked, injured, jailed.

If you choose to support on the supply lines side, you may get your name on a list, or get highlighted in your community.

Fascism loves to keep records remember. And they start with one community, then move onto the next. The first concentration camp in Germany in the 1930’s was Dachau, founded in 1933, and was aimed at political prisoners, Roma, and Jehovah’s Witnesses. The first Jewish prisoners arrived in 1938.

So, let’s try and learn from history.

And choose which consequences are worth it and which aren’t.

Because this bullshit isn’t going away and we all have to made decisions.

(And yes, for those who may be worried, my digestive system is grand today again!)