Lora O'Brien's Blog

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On Ancestry and Being "Irish"

This is an actual item that is commercially available. This shit though.

And leprechaun hats and lucky charms and a 'Brigid Oracle' machine and begosh and begorra sure aren't all the Oirish funny drunks?!

Ok, so that's the frustrated rant part over. Well, the rant part at least. Ok, so I MAY rant again before we're done, I'll not lie to ye. It's all relatable enough for those born here, and for most folk who genuinely seek an Irish connection, I'd say. 

This is where it gets a little more complicated though. I've talked tongue in cheek about 9 Signs That You Might Be A Plastic Paddy before, and the reaction was interesting. I get the fragile sense of connection, of belonging, that is so very prevalent in the United States. I can empathise with it, even if I haven't lived it.

But it causes a whole pile of shite to be put out in the world that is not healthy and not doing ye any favours. Y'all need to fix that, and it starts with YOU.

​For example, the Asatru Folk Assembly (I'm not going to link them and provide traffic to their shite) yesterday made a statement that runs like this:

Today we are bombarded with confusion and messages contrary to the values of our ancestors and our folk. The AFA would like to make it clear that we believe gender is not a social construct, it is a beautiful gift from the holy powers and from our ancestors. The AFA celebrates our feminine ladies, our masculine gentlemen and, above all, our beautiful white children. The children of the folk are our shining future and the legacy of all those men and women of our people back to the beginning. Hail the AFA families, now and always!
​
Matt Flavel
Alsherjargothi, AFA

What's that got to do with being Irish? I'm glad you asked!

Besides the fact they named their hall 'Newgrange'... this racist, sexist, homophobic and transphobic poison is prevalent in many groups who claim to follow a Norse or 'Celtic' spiritual path. And they base it on lineage, on ancestry.

Now, I work a lot with Irish ancestry. Every day, I would say, between personal work with my own ancestors and facilitating authentic connection to Ireland for folk who are feeling that, often because of family history and ties. I worked for many years in the Irish heritage tourism industry, where ancestral lineage is perhaps the number one reason folk report they are visiting Ireland from America.

I get that ancestry is important, is my point. And I get that it's interesting and exciting to trace your DNA, or your family tree; to find those roots here when you may have felt rootless your whole life. To relate yourself to this land and these people who are, let's face it now, possibly the coolest tribe in the world, and to thrill at a sense of belonging that is proven and measurable. I get that.

This is where it starts to get a little dodgy though. Because, for the most part, people are idiots. This 'proven connection' becomes purity, becomes elitism, becomes all out racism. All too easily. 

And that's as likely from folk who are born here, by the way, as well as mouth breathers from across the pond who decide they are 'Irish' and that makes them better than everyone else because CúChulainn.

Irish DNA, bloodlines or proven ancestry, at the end of the day, doesn't mean shit.

We're not some chemistry marks on a page, we're a living breathing culture, a people who continue to grow and change, but who also hold safe our heritage right here within our day to day lives. I've said it from my first day on the internet, and I'll keep saying it til ye fucking get it... Irish DNA isn't what makes you Irish. (I'm gonna go ahead and include the spiritual aspect of all this right in here, but it's just as relevant without. Your mileage may vary.)

Being Irish is about the land and the people, and yes, the language.

​I get roasted in book reviews all the time because I keep banging on about the language, and how it is a valuable expression of Irish heritage and magic.

At it's most basic, we all speak English because colonialism, oppression, genocide, and RACISM. When a native person tells you that it would be respectful for those seeking spiritual (and ancestral) connection to their land to maybe try and make an effort to include a few indigenous words and phrases, correct pronunciations and such - the correct response is not to dismiss and ridicule them. No. Bad, that's bad.

Learn how to spell and pronounce the terminology you want to use. FFS.

Learn how to address the Gods you seek in their native tongue. Learn how to say the names of indigenous people and places. Is it really too much for you? 

Is your sense of belonging really that shallow that you get upset and offended and downright hostile when you are called out on this shit we are bombarded with day in and day out? Is that necessary, or warranted?

And you folk who are lucky enough to have been born on this blessed isle... learn your own fucking history.

Our version of a creation myth is the Lebor Gabála - the BOOK OF INVASIONS. Like, our own history is literally about waves of people coming to Ireland and making things interesting. Sometimes, that didn't work out so well (I'm looking at you, 700+ years of English oppression), but for the most part it's been really good for us. This land is shaped and fed by her people, and she takes care of us if we take care of each other.

This is important, and you have forgotten it. Ireland is made of many tribes.

Last night, a woman of colour received absolutely vile racist abuse as she curated the @Ireland account on Twitter. 

This is not our heritage. This is certainly not our spirituality.

Folk who were not born here often, in my experience, appreciate Ireland in a way many Irish fail to do. They have come to visit, or live here, and they breathe our island in fully and deeply. They speak the language because they want to connect to the soul of Ireland and they're willing to put the work in to do that. They look around that small rural village you grew up in and despise, but they see the charming architecture, the hidden mysteries in the landscape, the value of community support that they're often not even included in as 'blow ins'.

You also forget, perhaps, that us Irish have exported generations, have solved our problems many times by leaving this land. We used to be met with the same racism and abuse you now heap on our visitors and asylum seekers. Your brothers, your sons, your friends and your community are living and working all over the world, right now. 

Is that how you want them treated? 

So, you don't have to be born here to be Irish. But the blood in your veins doesn't make you so either. It's about living the culture, putting in the work and the effort to connect, the respect and reverence for our history and heritage.

The other side of this coin is the importance of indigenous wisdom and experience. And again, this is where things are taking out of context and blown out of proportion by idiots.

I can say all of the above and still froth frustrated at the dismissal of an Irish person's opinion or experience by non-native spiritual seekers who talk over us, disregard our advice or concerns, and profit from our resources at our expense.

Me getting angry at this and calling you on it doesn't make me elitist, or some sort of aryan purist - and writing me off as such is a way of silencing my valid protest at your disrespect. Do you find yourself agreeing with #AllLivesMatter too?

But it happens all the time. At least weekly for me, but sometimes daily.

A Facebook friend made a very good point recently when someone was getting het up at the idea of not getting a free pass to follow any spiritual path they please, as and when they wanted... my friend asked (paraphrasing): What are you offering to this native spiritual path? What support are you giving to the indigenous people whose culture you wish to take from? 

This resonated very deeply for me, particularly as I'm a big proponent of just doing the fecking work on your spiritual path. This story too, speaks strongly to me on this point.

None of this is about your surname, what title you claim, what country your ancestors came from, or where you happen to have been born this time round.

Are you supporting Irish people in need? Are you helping to keep the language alive and growing? Can you help make the country safer for Irish women? 

Do you patronise unique Irish businesses, eat local foods and work with Irish tour guides when you visit? Lend your voice and support to Irish activism? Respect and learn from the experience of native spiritual practitioners?

​What do you DO, every day, that gives you the right to be Irish? If you want to learn more about Authentic Connection to Ireland, have a look at Lora's Patreon Project.

Where the Worlds Meet - 1

“Listen to this! Then she writes…”

What if the Old Gods of Ireland were walking this world today?  

It is my understanding that when people believe in a God, that belief draws energy around the idea of the God. The more people believe, the more energy collects, the more real that God becomes. Power accumulates. The God form becomes more tangible. People describe it to other people, and the form normalises, intensifies. 

Stories are corroborated, more people begin to believe. The God gains enough consciousness, enough power, to be able to influence, to affect this world. People witness the effects of the God’s power, and they too believe the stories. They tell more stories. More people believe, more power collects…

It is my understanding that people built the Gods; groups of people formed them from the stuff of the Universe. The Old ‘Pagan’ and ‘Heathen’ Gods have, in most parts of this world, been replaced by newer, mono-theistic Gods – but the same principle still applies. People believe, and the Gods are formed. People stop believing, and the Gods lose power, until they gradually dissipate back into the stuff of the Universe.
  
The Old Gods have lost power - most people in this world do not believe in them. But some do. Many do in fact. Their stories have been told through the ages, have survived. Their descriptions recorded in dusty works, often dormant, lost, disregarded except by the few academics who retained an interest, a passion, an energy for their tales. They told the stories, they translated the works into a tongue that many use, that all who are of this land now understand. Subsequent generations of scholars and academics expanded on the work of their predecessors, believing there was value in the stories of the Old Gods. Their work spread.

​In this digital age, the stories of the Old Gods have more reach, perhaps, than ever before – carried through the air on waves of energy, downloaded, translated, studied by… people. Accessed by people. Believed in by people. Utilising the vast academic resources available, as a platform on which to build a modern system, the ‘New Age’ Pagan, multi- or pan-theistic religions, and various forms of earth based spirituality, are the fastest growing form of belief in the world, if you count them all as one group. Belief in the Old Gods is on the rise, all over the world.

It is my understanding that many people of this world believe again, now, in the Old Gods of Ireland. What if this belief has strengthened their forms? What if this belief is giving them power?
​
What if the Old Gods of Ireland are walking this world today?

The magazine was flicked shut with a sharp snap, and slammed onto the table top between them. He watched with a bemused half smile as the Lady paced in front of him. Sliding his hand across, he picked it up, smoothed out the frustrated wrinkles, and examined the cover.

“It’s a weekly rag. Really, who is going to believe this? Look, it’s not even an Irish publication – nobody who matters will read this.” 

Her eyebrow was raised as she threw him a look. “I was able to buy that ‘rag’ easily in our small rural town. I have read this. Do I not matter?”

The bemused placatory smile dropped like a stone from his face and was replaced by a look of concern. “Apologies Lady, that is not what I meant. Not at all. Simply that, although well written, this piece will not appear in a publication of note. It will not gain notice by those who may matter.”

“And how can we be sure of that? It is out there now, explored and published by one from this very area, our own local community. How do we know it will not gain further credence, that the idea will not spread from here?” 

She sank to the seat beside him, her gaze now off in the distance. Although thankful to have escaped her direct line of sight, especially with her in this mood, he worried nonetheless. Despondency was not her usual style. Her next words unsettled him even further.

“Oh Manni. I like the girl, I really do. I’ve enjoyed getting to know her, and I respect her for how far she has traveled, unsupported and relatively unguided."

The Queen sighed. "But, we are going to have to do something about this now.” To Be Continued...?
If you'd like more of this story - Leave a Comment Below! You can access more original Irish stories and re-telling old tales with the $3 per month Rewards on Patreon. www.Patreon.com/LoraOBrien

Wild Camping in Ireland

Ok, so legally, you can't. Or at least, you can't in most places.

In the Wicklow Mountains National Park, wild camping is allowed (with sensible restrictions), except in Glendalough. You can check information on this area Here.

A lot of folk camp on the beaches of Ireland, and some are more favourable than others. Fallmore near Belmullet in Mayo, Baginbun Beach near Feathard in Co. Wexford, and Wine Strand or Ventry Beach along the Dingle Peninsula in Co. Kerry are all recommended, though I've not camped on any of them personally.

Generally, you have to be aware of trespassing on private land. If there's a spot you'd really love to camp at, knock on the door of the nearest house and ask who owns it, then ask for permission. Offering a wee donation is always a good idea.

State owned land is technically public property, but the rangers and lifeguards and such obviously get first say in what you can and can't do there. For beaches, there's legal access to the foreshore - which means 'the bed and shore, below the line of high water of ordinary or medium tides, of the sea and of every tidal river and tidal estuary and of every channel, creek and bay of the sea or of any such river or estuary. The land above this can be privately owned so if you have to cross above the median High Water mark you may be trespassing.' (Further Info)

For his birthday last weekend, my son asked for a family camping trip, "away from people". His requirements were a river, and trees. And no people.

I hadn't done a wild camp in many years, so, cue frantic research scramble to see if the laws had changed. Not a lot, it turns out.

We were leaving from Dublin on Friday afternoon, and had to do the food shopping first... so somewhere within 2 hours drive of the capital was necessary, to ensure that we had time to find a place, park safely, hike (with all the gear) to a suitable spot away from the road, pitch the tent and set up camp before dark.

Wicklow Mountains camping was out for me, with the boy along. To be honest, I'm hearing there's a rash of break-ins to cars at popular parking spots - look for broken glass on the ground around any intended parking to check if there's been windows broken there recently. It's also a popular spot for a gang of lads to get cans and head out to of a Saturday night, for drunken fun and frolics. 

None of that seemed like a recipe for a peaceful family trip, or an enjoyable birthday for him, so we went a little further afield.

I'm not going to say exactly where - the internet is full of horrible people after all, as well as all you lovely types - but what I did was choose a general location with national parkland (it was the Slieve Bloom Mountains for us this trip), and source a few potential parking spots around an area I liked the look of. 

We headed out, drove about a bit and found a nice spot at the head of a trail. Parked up, did a recon mission and found a place where folk had camped before (slightly flattened land and the remains of a fire pit) in a river valley that was, admittedly, a horrible hike to and from the car - but is absolutely gorgeous. 

Site chosen, we hiked back up to the car, loaded up the essentials for the camp set up and first night (it took two trips), and pitched the tent. We had to re-set the fire pit a little, and I double lined it to prevent scorched earth around it. I dug a small trench latrine or 'cathole' away from the tent site, and even further from the river, and we'd brought water for our drinking, washing and cooking in 5L containers.

​We didn't light a fire that evening, and were absolutely eaten by midgies, and wrecked from travelling and set up, so it was an early night, with the sounds of the river burbling nearby, and wind through the treetops to lull us to sleep. The Wild Camping Code  Officially, this is how it runs.

All campers should aspire to minimising their impact on the environment by conforming to the following code of conduct:Campsites must be at least 400m from a road capable of carrying a vehicle.Campsites must be at least 400m from a building.Tents must be moved after every second night to allow vegetation to recover.Campers must remove all food waste and litter, whether or not it is biodegradable. Buried waste is often exposed by foraging animals or by erosion.Soap and toothpaste must be kept at least 30m away from watercourses.Dish and utensil washing must be conducted at least 30 metres from water bodies. All waste-water should be strained and scattered. In no circumstances should waste-water used in washing be poured into lakes, streams or rivers.Campers are required to conduct themselves in a quiet manner, in an effort to avoid disturbing the local community, wildlife or other visitors.Camp-sites must be kept visually unobtrusive.Campsites must be left as found, or better.
Latrine Protocol
Catholes for disposal of human waste must be located at least 30m away from watercourses and 50m from walking routes. Human waste must be buried or carried out of the site. No evidence of latrine use should remain visible. All toilet paper and hygiene products must be carried out.

Campfires
Campfires are not permitted in the National Parks. The issuing of permits for campfires is suspended pending review.

Failure to comply with this code will result in withdrawal of permission to camp. In such cases National Park Rangers will demand that the visitors break camp.

​You can find more information on the Leave No Trace Ethos Here.

As with most things, it all boils down to common sense, and respect. 

Just don't be a dick, ok? To Explore the Ancient Sites of Ireland with Me
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Connecting to Deity

How to Make an Authentic Spiritual Connection to an Irish God or Goddess in Ireland ome of you have told me that audio files work as well, if not better, than written blog posts, so I thought I'd switch things up a bit with this one.

There's a lot of reference to Otherworld Journeying in this, and you can learn more about that on my Patreon Posts... with an option for monthly Journey rewards too.​

This is based on a record of my work and experienced that first appeared in print in 2005, in my first published book. It details practical ways you can connect to any deity, how to work with a god or goddess who interests you, and why you should or should not do certain things around that.

You'll also hear about part of my own dedication or initiation process with the Irish goddess Morrigan. I've been her priestess now for 13 years, and telling you the beginning of my story with her (or at least part of it), makes me smile even now.

Whether that's the warm satisfied smile of work well done, or the fixed rictus grin of the insane... sure, I'll let you decide for yourself.

​"Is what it is", as my love says. Connecting to Deity - Part 1 Connecting to Deity - Part 2 Connecting to Deity - Part 3 - Me and the Morrigan The cave that I talk about is the Morrigan's Cave in Rathcroghan, County Roscommon. This is the Cave of the Cats, entrance to the Otherworld in Irish legend, the 'fit abode' of the Morrigan Herself.

After connecting to Her in this way, and dedicating my work to the Great Queen, I was offered (no application necessary, fyi) a job as a tour guide at the Rathcroghan visitor centre, and went on to work there as the Centre and Site Manager for 8 years after. 

So, consider that a warning, or some sort of encouragement... I dunno.

​Just do the work. Are you feeling the Morrigan's call? 
Learn more in the online course - Meeting the Morrigan 2016 For More Authentic Spiritual Connection to Ireland
​Visit www.Patreon.com/LoraOBrien

Poem for the Morrigan

All That We Must Leave Behind She Stands
Silent, hooded, darkened countenance
shifting, muted, inescapably There.

Her Face
Unknowable, terrible, hidden
She is Everything and Nothing.

Two Spears
Weapons of truth, Imperative
Thrusting knowledge and awareness

Slaying
       All that we must leave behind
Forcing
       All that we must discover

Darkness and Strength
Power and Insight
Fear and Finding

She Stands
Connected, terrified, thrilled
Facing the Great Queen

Back into her own,
coming home.
Lora O'Brien, Roscommon, Bealtaine 2004. For More Authentic Spiritual Connection to Ireland
​Visit www.Patreon.com/LoraOBrien Are you feeling the Morrigan's Call?
Learn more in the online course - Meeting the Morrigan 2016

About The Author

There's a lot of new folk following the blog and visiting from the Patreon Page, so I thought I'd give some extra background info if you're not sure who I am and why I might be 'Speaking for Ireland' here.

If you're coming across my work you'll see various author bios, some more updated than others. But there's a radio interview I did from a few years back, and a recent one on Google Hangouts that might be more useful than stuff I wrote about myself.
Click to Download the Radio Interview File (mp3) In short, I'm a native Irish woman with a very long history in 'Pagan' spiritual and magical experience, and a long enough history in Irish heritage management, guiding and education. My writing and teaching is mostly about Ireland: our archaeology, indigenous spirituality, mythology, ancestry, and culture; while I guide folk (both physically and metaphorically!) to an authentic connection to Ireland. Click to View an Interview with Lora O'Brien (YouTube) Click to View Lora's Patreon Introduction (on YouTube) If you've any comments or questions, just leave them below... Or you can click a link and send me an email in private. Talk to ya soon!

Northern Ireland - A Beginner's Guide

A Beginner's Guide?

Eh.... how far back should I go? Because what you've heard about 'The Troubles' is only the tip of the iceberg, really.

The Normans, perhaps? ​Strongbow was a Norman lord from Wales who started the Norman conquest of Ireland, around 1170. Though some of them 'went native' and were absorbed into Gaelic (Irish) culture, that was maybe the start of the disparagement and racism against the Irish in our own land.

The Tudor Conquest began with Henry VIII in 1536, and he'd declared himself King of Ireland by 1541. That continued through Elizabeth, and James I, and ended (officially) with the 'Flight of the Earls' in 1607.

We were firmly under the English boot by then. Through the 1500s and 1600s CE we'd been subjected to the Plantations, where ownership of our land was forcibly stripped by the English crown, and re-settled with citizens from England. This officially ended in the 1650s with thousands of Parliamentarian soldiers settled in Ireland under the direction of Oliver Cromwell. Ulster was a hotspot for plantation settlement, and this created large strongholds of communities with British and Protestant identity.

English settlers in Ireland did not think highly of our native Gaelic, and by that time firmly Catholic, culture...

How godly a deed it is to overthrow so wicked a race the world may judge: for my part I think there cannot be a greater sacrifice to God.
- Edward Barkley, describing how the forces of the Earl of Essex slaughtered the entire population of Rathlin Island, Co. Antrim, 1575

All wisdom advises us to keep this [Irish] kingdom as much subordinate and dependent on England as possible; and, holding them from manufacture of wool (which unless otherwise directed, I shall by all means discourage), and then enforcing them to fetch their cloth from England, how can they depart from us without nakedness and beggary?
- Lord Stafford, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in a letter to King Charles I, 1634

They kept us poor, and beholden to our overlords.

Like all clever abusers they fostered mistrust and betrayal among neighbours and communities, taught us over the course of hundreds of years to hate our own culture, our language, our customs - to see ourselves as less than them.

They took our natural resources, the strength of our labour, and grew rich off the skin of our backs, ate well and drank merry while our people drowned in blood, sweat, and tears. They fed us slave food - this, the Irish potato, and when it failed us they refused to allow us to eat of anything else fed from our own lands, grown from our own rich soil.

You've all heard of "the Famine" I'm sure, but first the Irish Famine of 1740 killed at least 38% of our 2.4 million population; proportionally, a greater loss than during the worst years of the Great Famine of 1845–1852. In that time, we lost more than a million people to starvation, and a million more to forced emigration, and they said it was our fault.

...being altogether beyond the power of man, the cure had been applied by the direct stroke of an all-wise Providence in a manner as unexpected and as unthought of as it is likely to be effectual.

The judgement of God sent the calamity to teach the Irish a lesson, that calamity must not be too much mitigated. …The real evil with which we have to contend is not the physical evil of the Famine, but the moral evil of the selfish, perverse and turbulent character of the people.
- Charles Trevelyan, head of administration for famine relief, 1840s

[existing policies] will not kill more than one million Irish in 1848 and that will scarcely be enough to do much good.
- Queen Victoria's economist, Nassau Senior

We fought them though.

Weak, and poor, and downtrodden - we fought them.

​The United Irishmen (and women) Rebellion in 1798 was perhaps the beginning of the first organised attempts to overthrow the oppressors in hundreds of years, and it officially started in Belfast in 1791 (read my post about Vinegar Hill). A counter campaign of martial law used tactics such as house burnings, torture of captives, pitch-capping and murder, particularly in Ulster where large numbers of Catholics and Protestants had joined in common cause. That just couldn't stand.

The Act of Union in 1801 was a betrayal, and highlighted a particularly Catholic vs Protestant struggle for Catholic emancipation, and following from that the ​​The Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB; in Irish: Bráithreachas Phoblacht na hÉireann) began in 1858 - it was a secret oath-bound fraternal organisation dedicated to the establishment of an "independent democratic republic" in Ireland.

And then, my dear Readers, our Troubles became focused in 'the North'.

Tensions were rising and we seemed on the brink of civil war from 1912, with opposition to 'Home Rule' from Ulster Unionists, who formed the 'Ulster Volunteers', which led to Irish Nationalists forming the 'Irish Volunteers'. World War 1 averted some of the crisis, but it didn't go away anywhere.

Of course the famed Easter Rising didn't happen in a vacuum, and we've just celebrated the 100 year anniversary of that these last few months, so we're very much into recent history now after a run down of what... nearly 750 years of English rule? The history of that is well know, I guess, though the depth and breadth of it is often glossed over and washed green instead of red, swathed in beer and rebel ballads.

The Partition of Ireland was the division of the island of Ireland which created two distinct political territories - Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland, as it was called at the time, on the 3rd of May in 1921, under the Government of Ireland Act 1920. Today we still call the 6 counties 'Northern Ireland', and it is a self governing part of the larger 'United Kingdom', with Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man, and England. The rest of the island is a sovereign state, the Republic of Ireland, or just called Ireland.

To refer to us now as 'Southern Ireland' is offensive. To say we are part of "Great Britain" will get you verbally slapped at least, and even though technically and geographically our island can be classed as part of the 'British Isles', if you've read this far you may now have an inkling of why it might rankle and burn to be proprietorially inferred as owned by Britain in such a way.

I've brought you this far, through 800 years of systematic oppression and genocide, shown you the seeds that were planted on our island that were cultivated and grew to be 'the North'. 

I didn't grow up there. I'm reluctant to talk about the horrors that direct immersion in 'the Troubles' has brought for the people who did.

My great grandparents, my grandparents and their siblings were directly involved, and maybe even my parents or their siblings, I don't know. We don't talk about the more recent loyalties and actions in the same way as we tell stories which are a generation or two removed. I can tell you the stories I've heard of the Black and Tans that make me want to scream when I see a product named this way in ignorance, my awareness and fears through the long years of Bombings in the North, and the Republic, and in the heart of England too - and if you ever order an 'Irish Car Bomb' drink in my presence you will not be in my presence for much longer, of that you can be sure.

I can share memories of crossing into the North, across the border, maybe once or twice... and the soldiers aiming guns at us frightened kids in the back of the car, their harsh questions and suspicious peering, poking, prodding with the tip of a machine gun.

I can tell you of the confusion and anger I felt when I first learned of the Hunger Strikes, at the age of 4 or 5 years old, and later on when I understood the dirty protests, and the stark reality of a person starving themselves to death for what they believed. Of how the energy of hunger has seeped so thoroughly into this land that it seems forever stained with the raw, gnawing, hollowed out fear and pain of starvation, and how teenage me was tormented by that before I even knew what it was, or how to manage it and protect myself from the ravenous pockets of it that are a part of our landscape. And maybe even begin to heal some of that, in time.

And I can tell you of the sweet, cautious, dawning of hope with the Good Friday Agreement in April 1998, two weeks before my 20th birthday. That unsteady peace has grown, and things have stabilised in the North for the first time any of us can remember.

This morning we woke to the news that Britain had voted to exit the EU, and nobody knows what that means for Northern Ireland now. I'm not going to speculate on that... but about the only good I can see from today's news and social media chatter is the idea that both Unionists and Nationalists in the North may be agreed that leaving the United Kingdom is the way forward for Northern Ireland.

Borders have always been a problem for us, as you can perhaps imagine. If you like this article, join the Mailing List for more! Note: The highlighted words are direct links to further resources... which I've kept to general Wikipedia articles to aim for as much source neutrality as possible. Please do  educate yourself further, as this article is only scratching the surface. 

Working as a 'Spiritual Fixer' in Ireland

What the frick frack is a 'Spiritual Fixer', exactly, Ms. O'Brien...?

Ok, so a 'fixer', in journalism, is someone (often a local journalist), who gets booked by a foreign journalist or media outlet to help with local connections - to act as a translator and guide, to gain access to local interviews and places on the ground that a foreign journalist just wouldn't have access to.

I'm a journalist by trade, so I'm used to fixer work from both sides, but I occasionally (more often as the years roll by) get a request to act as a 'Spiritual Fixer' for folk who are either coming to Ireland and want a guide to a genuine spiritual experience while here - land, sites, communities - or else by those who can't set foot on land here for various reasons, and need some help or support, or spiritual work done for them.

This has crossed from personal (favours for friends), to professional (I worked in Irish tourism as a guide and heritage manager for 8 years), to those times when the Beings and entities I work with and for in my own spiritual practice tell me in no uncertain terms I need to help a certain person or group. That last one has been both personal (or ended up that way, with making good friends from complete strangers!) and professional paid work. And occasionally both at once, because honourable folk compensate other honourable folk for their valuable time, skills, and resources.

I had agreed to do some work for a friend a while back, but with one thing and another I hadn't gotten to it, and my trip to teach at the Morrigan Retreat in CT was looming. He had a family connection to the River Barrow, and needed some material collected from the area, which I'd agreed to facilitate and transfer to him, and appropriate offerings made to local spirits in exchange. 

Being a pure Shannon girl my whole life, I'd never worked with the Barrow (or any of her sisters) but as I'm living in their area now, it seemed like work I should be doing anyway. And get done before I left my land to teach, so time was ticking.

I decided to take an hour or two the day before I travelled and 'pop over' to Passage East, buy some whiskey and honey to make an offering, pick up some river stones, and be back by lunchtime. 

Is it ever that easy though?

First, the offering. At that point, I was still seeing this mostly as fixer work for my friend, but when I checked in the night before with my own Gods, Guides and Guardians I was told in no uncertain terms that buying a bottle of whiskey in Tesco with somebody else's money wasn't going to do rightly. Not at all. 

I had a lovely bottle of home brewed mead sure, that'd been gifted to me by Treasa at my birthday in April. That I was saving for a special occasion. That was still wrapped in the birthday paper... My lovely Mead! I'm a Minion of the Gods. Yeah. That'd do nicely for an offering, I was told. Right so. *sigh*

When I arrived at Passage East, I realised it was almost entirely salt water there, and sure that wouldn't do at all. I knew the Barrow is a tidal river, but the mix of fresh to salt felt entirely wrong at that point. 

Checking the map, I figured if I drove a bit back up towards the loop of the river I'd probably find a wee village I could access the river at. Traveling up towards Cheekpoint I realised nope, it still wasn't right. and I was stuck now in the river loop, so I'd to backtrack out to Waterford, cross the bridge, and travel upriver again.

Still didn't know where I was going, but Graiguenamanagh in Co. Kilkenny felt like a good place to aim for, so I hit off in that direction. I avoided the motorway though, and kept to N25 to New Ross, then followed the road along the river. Taken while pulled in to check map... yup, still kinda lost. I was very much trusting to instinct and guidance from the Otherworld at this point, to get me where I needed to go. And I'd already given in to the possibility that I may have had to travel quite a lot farther than expected to get there and back again.

​I was pulled off the road though (not literally, thankfully - safety first, Spirits!) at a wee place called St. Mullins, which was, I must admit as a happy bonus, and absolute delight of a hidden gem I'd never even heard of.

Down into the river valley, past folk sitting chatting on benches by the side of the lane, to a little paved roundabout with a car park off to one side. A lovely man strimming a garden told me I could tuck my car in at the roundabout area for a few minutes, so I did that, took my offering, and strolled down along the river bank.

​I'm going to let these pictures tell the rest of that bit of the story... I cried a little when I gave up that mead, I'll not lie.

But I got what my friend needed, 7 river stones from his ancestral land. I also got what I needed - the beginnings of a local river connection, with a good solid dose of the Irish land before I flew away over the sea. And it did me the power o' good I can tell ya.

I gave my thanks, took a deep breath, and began to make my way home again.
If you want to chat about work as a Spiritual Fixer in Ireland, you can Click Here to Email Me. Hire Lora as Your Guide to Ireland

About a Girl...

There was once, a long time ago, this 14 year old who girl liked to go for evening walks alone. 

What?! 

It’s not so unusual... she often needed to get a bit of head space from a busy household, and feel some trees around her before bedtime.   Leaving the housing estate, she walked out to the main road, paying no real mind to the car that slowed down as it approached her, although when she turned up the lane that would bring her to the open fields, she did notice the car when it pulled into the top of the lane, and idling there. A bit odd, maybe the driver was looking at a map or something. Keep walking, head down. Sound of engine revving, car turning, maybe the driver is leaving, has found his way, is turning around. 

The lane is quiet. High block walls on one side marking the end of back gardens. Forestry area on the other side, a bit of wild still remaining in the outskirts of Dublin – all rough tangles of bramble and holly under large ash and thorn. No way through, just catching and stumbling and pulling.

The forest had escaped along the lane too, dotted here and there against the block wall were clusters of shrubs, baby hedgerows, even some more mature trees standing proud. Broken from the observational reverie by the sound of an engine again, the car in the lane, slowly, slowly moving behind her. No lights. Were there lights before?

It wasn’t full dark, maybe he just hadn’t turned his lights on, maybe he was lost. But the lane is gloomy, the lights would be useful for the lost, surely, a lost person would have their lights turned on. Car blocking the lane behind her. No way back. In front, at the end of the lane – wide empty fields. Walls too high to climb on one side, inhospitable territory on the other. Nowhere to go. Keep moving on. There’s a house up above, somewhere off the lane. Way up at the top, a house. People. Lights.

No lights. Drifting along behind her. Looking. Searching. Hunting. Prey in sight. 

Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Maybe he hasn’t seen me, I could hide in the trees but he’ll see me if I cross the lane, see me for sure, find me, catch me. Have to hide in the trees, behind the trees, beside the trees he’s getting closer, I can’t see his face oh god help me I have to hide in the trees… step off the laneway, huge ash tree growing by the wall. Standing alone, a single sentinel, the only cover. Car getting closer, step around the tree, into the tree, oh help me I have to hide in the tree… Stop. Still.

Wrapped and close, in the tree, hiding in the tree. Help me. Hide me. 

Car glides by, looking, searching, hunting – not finding. Looking right at the tree, the tree, the tree, only the tree. Confusion on his face, annoyance, moving on, searching, searching… nothing there. Top of the lane, turning, lights glare into life, engine revs, roaring displeasure and frustration, another turn, moving back, still searching, but knowing… she is gone. Back out to the top of the lane, turning into the main flow of traffic, off, and gone.
​
This 14 year old girl who liked to go for evening walks alone stepped out onto the lane, and found her way home again. Excerpt from 'A Practical Guide to Irish Spirituality'
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