Call Me Judy

August 12, 2023


The name didn’t register. Not when I opened the email notification from PayPal letting me know someone had ordered my Crone book. It was her personal email that followed immediately. Is this the same Judy Nilan who went to WSU?

OMG!!! Wanda! The fabric of time snapped and folded back on itself. I was again on campus at Washington State University fifty years ago. I was living in the former fraternity house with so many other campus radicals. I was protesting the war, boycotting grapes and lettuce in support of Cesar Chavez and the farmworkers, I was fighting for women’s rights, black rights, and gay rights. I was on fire with a passion for social and environmental justice. And I was called Judy. 

Wanda was with me in all of that. And we were a formidable force. Then we lost contact, as too often happens after university, and it was when she was exploring her Irish spiritual heritage that she found my book. After one zoom call, she signed up to go to Ireland.

We immediately slipped into a very familiar relationship and rhythm. Fifty years of time became no time. Others said it was like we had known each other all our lives. And apparently we have. Our separate paths have lead us back together to stand deeply rooted in a knowing of our spiritual and sacred purpose. And we are again a formidable force. While we are no longer stomping grapes, we are merging with cosmic and otherworld  energies to amplify the Light in the world. The Light that emanates from Ireland’s sacred sites and landscapes. We are again on fire. This time with a passion for spiritual awakening. 

Wanda tried to call me Judith. But it didn’t fit. So I asked her to please call me Judy. In that naming of me, I love the symmetry and full circle of the passing years. I love that we are back together. I love that Judy is back. And I love that she’s back with Wanda. 

Watch out, world!


Testing My Compassion

August 3, 2023


A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe,
a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself,
his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest,
a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion
is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires
and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task
must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening
our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and
the whole of nature in its beauty.
Albert Einstein


Compassion was not my first reaction. When we discovered bags of trash dumped along the road in the undergrowth, I wasn’t surprised. It happens often out here. This is just our first experience of this at MossTerra. But when we discovered that one of those trash bags held a litter of dead kittens, I was furious. How could anyone…

I’ve heard of this happening out here. It’s likely those kittens were alive when they were thrown into the bushes. I can’t get the image of their suffering out of my mind and heart. How could anyone…

How could anyone!? I had to step beyond the statement of moral outrage and sit with the question in order to release myself from the prison of delusion and judgement.

The judgement is perhaps obvious. But the delusion is thinking that others hold the same sense of honoring all life as I do. So many don’t. And the tragic truth of that screams at us in newspaper headlines every day. It goes well beyond kittens.

I remind myself there are really no ‘others’. We are all part of the divine. It just seems the divine is a bit hidden in some. So I consider what truly their lives are about that they could do such horrific acts. What journey are they on that holds them in a prison of separation from divine consciousness? And what will it take for them to free themselves from that prison? I don’t know. But what I can do is send them compassion. And sometimes it’s a huge test for me to do that. 


What Grows In The Shadow Of Greatness

August 1, 2023


Men do not accept their prophets and slay them,
but they love their martyrs and worship those
whom they have tortured to death.
Fyodor Dostoevsky

The words of the prophets are written
on the subway walls and tenements halls
and whispered in the sounds of silence.
Paul Simon

“Fight the real enemy!” These were the words Sinéad O’Connor spoke as she tore up a photo of the Pope on Saturday Night Live in 1992. So many in Ireland and around the world could not accept the truth about the abuses of the Catholic Church. It was a truth Sinéad knew from personal experience. And she was vilified for speaking it.

“Fight the real enemy!” This past weekend in Ireland, thirty years later, those paying tribute to Sinéad were carrying placards with her image and this statement. Now they know the truth and are worshiping this woman once tortured by their hatred.

I’ve been reflecting on her courage and the courage of so many who have spoken truth to power and the world and been vilified and even killed for it. Yet seeds are sown and they flourish in the shadow of greatness, within the sounds of the silence left behind when we lose a prophet. Thank you for being a seed, Sinéad, for your courageous prophecy. 

I don’t consider myself a prophet. But I do resonate with the definition of one gifted with more than ordinary spiritual and moral insight. Through my experiences in Ireland, I continue to be gifted with increasing spiritual insights. Insights that come to me from the land, the ancestors, and entities in other realms. There are signs and prophecies that the ancient ways of wisdom are returning and I am humbled to be part of that awakening. For it is an ancient wisdom filled with spiritual and moral insights for these times.  

And, as many of you know, the Gatherings in Ireland are now about merging with this awakening and this wisdom. We are nurturing seeds sown long ago. And they are flourishing.


Otherworld & Otherworldly

July 28, 2023


Thank you for hearing me
Thank you for hearing me
Thank you for hearing me
Thank you for hearing me

Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me

Thank you for seeing me
Thank you for seeing me
Thank you for seeing me
Thank you for seeing me
Sinéad O’Connor


The Otherworld is real. It’s one of the reasons I invite people to join me in Ireland. To have a personal encounter with energies and entities in other realms of reality. And it is reality. It’s not some fantastic construct of ancient myth and imagination. It’s real. And it’s now.

The Banshee, Bean Sídhe. Stepping around the recent movie which, in my humble opinion, did not do them justice, I would like to share a story. An Irish friend and colleague shared last week that a cousin of hers had died. While the news was sad, it wasn’t a surprise to her. For she had heard the Banshee at her door. Sometimes they arrive with keening. Sometimes they knock at the door on three consecutive nights. For Mary, it was the knocking. And she knew someone in her family was transitioning to the Otherworld. 

It was Mary who sent me this Facebook post from Cáití Caille whose name means Ancient Earth Path. She describes herself as Ancient Irish Medicine Keeper of the Celtic Fae, Druid, & Elemental Lineages, Herbalist, and Nature Lover. 

To honor Sinéad O’Connor and the amazing force and gift she was in the world, I share Cáití’s post and an image I was inspired to create.

The Keen of the Sídhe is heard by those carrying this ancestral lineage for Sídhe beings who are transitioning from Body to Spirit.

The famous wail or keen of the Banshee holds the tradition that when the people with the blood of the Sídhe are dying, the crying woman of the otherworld will be heard lamenting with the piercing wail of grief. It’s said to be an earth shattering sound. 

Yesterday morning I could feel the energetics of a massive ball of energy shattering and I heard the wail. It was like a hurricane of sorrow,  a roar of the almighty earth and the light of a thousand sun’s going dark. 

I thought OK, something major has occurred.

It was last night when I heard the news of Sinéad moving into the Otherworld and I could see, feel and relate this transition to the energy I heard and felt earlier. 

The Sídhe are powerful transmitters of Sound,  Song, Voice and Word. Their Joy and Lament are the same,  Earth Shattering Light Codes that bring about Epic changes for those with hearts to hear.

This Beautiful Otherworldly Bean Sídhe was a major holder on the grid of these Sound Codes.  She came to Rock,  Dismantle and Shatter the old. She was Fae through and through, She was Original,  from the place of the Unknown. Unknown by the human paradigm and tormented and haunted by the human paradigm for expressing these frequencies but FREE in her Sídhe form. 

The wail of the Sídhe as they transition is an accumulation and release of the potent emotion and energy that these sacred keepers of sound have held and contained within the restrictions of their human vessels. Mostly they have held and contained these emotions for their ancestry and the collective. They are Grail keepers,  Cauldron holders,  Wells of Knowledge with Powerful Voices to help humanity to shift, awaken and evolve. 

When we transition from Body to Spirit there is an intense review period whereby every experience we have come through moves through us, sometimes it’s images, feelings, memories etc. The  Caoin na Sídhe is this review in Sound. Sinéads release was Epic,  the Sound was Immense. May she be FREE now in her Sídhe form and welcomed into the Unconditional Love of her Origin. Resting in Peace, knowing her Sound carried us All.

All my love to you Shining One, on your journey home, Thank you for your time holding us.

Indeed, Sinéad, thank you for holding us. Thank you for hearing, loving, and seeing us. For offering us the inspiration to be the best we can be. You are missed. 


The Appearance Of Signs

July 6, 2023


To the poet, to the philosopher, to the saint,
all things are friendly and sacred,
all events profitable, all days holy….”
 Ralph Waldo Emerson

For those of us who wander in many realms of reality, any messages or insights we receive are through signs and symbols and perhaps a general sense of knowing. We are always open to receiving. The challenge is knowing whether there is a true appearing sign, or just the appearance of a sign. Just because a bald eagle swoops low and lands on a branch outside my office window, which happened recently, doesn’t necessarily mean anything. In this case it was just hunting a rabbit. 

My recent journey back from Ireland took five days. It seemed flight cancellations happened just as I had loaded my luggage in the car for the drive to the airport. And it seemed rebooking flights and calling to extend my car hire contract became morning rituals. After more delays, I was able to land in Seattle. However my luggage apparently decided a sleep over in the Newark airport was a good idea. They just got delivered yesterday. In twenty years of traveling to Ireland, I’ve never experienced anything like this. 

Looking for the light of insight in this chaotic unfolding, some have suggested it was perhaps not wise to have purchased the turbulence ring. Other have suggested that Ireland didn’t want to let me go or that I had more to do there before I could fly back to MossTerra. It’s true that the extra days in Ireland afforded me an extraordinary encounter and expanded network. However I’m not convinced that proves any divine influence in this. While it’s tempting to think that the universe and what unfolds is all about me, it’s not. And the ring? Bringing the ring into my life just allowed me to be more prepared for this or any other turbulence. 

Yes. Sometimes there are clear signs of otherworld influences. When we were in ceremony at one of the sacred sites, I was compelled to deliver an individual message to each one gathered in the circle and apparently my eyes turned a bright blue during that time. Happened more than once, actually. Then, when I took a friend to one of the sites at Solstice, he was welcomed to the site by two Druidic figures from an ancient time. 

But sometimes when we think we see signs, they just aren’t there and we are reading way too much into what’s happening. Sometimes it’s just a bald eagle catching a rabbit.  

I agree with Emerson’s perspective. As a spiritual woman, I do believe that all things are sacred and all events are profitable. It’s a matter of discernment about whether we are encountering the true appearance of insights and messages, or whether we are encountering what only appears to be an event or insight or message of profound spiritual significance.  

Appearance. It’s a tricky landscape to navigate. 



June 30, 2023


Over the years I’ve taken people up to my favorite craft village just outside Donegal Town. Amazing artists there, including jeweler Niall Bruton. I had taken the May group up only to find his shop closed for family bereavement. So the day before wandering up there with the June group I decided to email him to see if he would be there. He would be. 

When we walked in, everyone immediately gravitated to pieces they would purchase. And there were many. I was immediately drawn to this gold ring. I generally wear silver and the price of the ring was…well, what you would expect for gold. And then there was the name of this piece, Turbulence. So I was curious about my strong attraction to it.

I went for a cup of coffee, thinking that being away from the ring would lessen the attraction. But it didn’t. So I returned to his shop and bought it. He only charged me the price of the gold. As I was leaving he asked that the next time I come up would I please give him more notice. He explained that when he got my email he panicked because he knew he didn’t have enough of the pieces my people generally buy. Seriously? Yes, I’ve been bringing people to his shop for years. But very sporadically.

Niall stayed late into the night creating rings and necklaces. Pieces that were, in fact, all purchased by those with me that day. Amazing. 

Turbulence. Some of those with me were very surprised that I would purchase a ring with that name and energy. Why would I invite that into my life?

Well. With what has been coming through in the last weeks and months, it wasn’t a matter of invitation. The turbulence has already arrived. Purchasing and wearing the ring was symbolic of honoring that arrival and acknowledging that in this turbulent time, new patterns would be created. Patterns of my life, patterns of body, mind, and soul. This ring is about embracing these changes and celebrating these new patterns. And yes, gold is the perfect metal to hold all this. 

Turbulence. Sometimes it’s about dancing with what shows up.


Magical Thinking

June 28, 2023


I sensed changes were coming. And I sensed they would be life changing. So I stopped writing blog posts, thinking I would have something more significant to write about. And I waited. The waiting was hard because I love writing and at the same time know that my best writing comes through me when the time is right. I write because something wants to be written and I kept hoping that some profound insight in the midst of these changes would come through. 

Magical thinking. Because it didn’t, as many of you have observed and commented. Where did she go? An excellent question. Because where I went and where I am and where I’m going…well, there’s no coming back. Nor is there a desire to do so. 

I had a knowing, and perhaps more a hope, that these shifts and changes would become more clear with my time here in Ireland. And they have. And they have not. Because while some changes have landed, others are still arriving and will continue to arrive with a depth and intensity that is profound. There is no roadmap for this journey, no guide books for these new patterns that are unfolding, and for someone who likes to be in control that’s more than a bit unnerving. It’s a complete surrender to Spirit, anchored in the wisdom of my spiritual teachers. 

Now, as I complete my time here in Ireland with some wonderful quiet days for contemplation, listening, and integration, the magical thinking of waiting has shifted to the mystical thinking and knowing that consumes me and wants a voice.


Sacred Sewage

March 22, 2023


Yeah. I sat with that myself. But if the poo fits, write about it.

My first week here in Ireland was filled with colleagues, musicians, healers, storytellers, Druids, artists, and time in a new sacred site. Well, beyond ancient but new to me. There was something of an initiatory energy in that sacred landscape that is still unfolding and clearly will continue when I return. Cahercommaun will be a powerful highlight of the Gatherings in May, June, and September.

This week has been filled with neighbors and networks, an electrician, a plumber, and a man who will sort out the septic system here at HazelWood Cottage. I’ve paid our wifi bill for the coming year, decided on the color to paint the cottage, and sorted out the logistics of getting the cottage power washed and painted…basically ticking through the list of things I hoped to accomplish. 

It’s tempting to name only one of these weeks sacred. 

Yet this week has been filled with storytellers and stories. Something inherent in hanging with the Irish. When I was trying to determine when our bathroom was installed, I talked with neighbor Mary who was around then and mentioned that I knew the cottage was built in 1952 and understood the bathroom was added nine years later. “Ah sure, no,” she said. “There were no toilets in Ireland at that time. They didn’t come in until the late 60s and early 70s.” It was a sweeping statement and perhaps not true for all of Ireland, but certainly plausible here in the West where many communities didn’t get electricity until the 80s. I was stunned. I was graduating high school and there were no toilets here? 

Now, our septic system has been a bit dodgy and required the occasional activity of opening up access to the septic pipe near the cottage and shoving 20′ of what was once a chimney brush through it to clear the clog. Not a pleasant task. But when John – I know, interesting name for this project – came to assess the situation he asked how often we needed to rod the system. Rod the system. There’s actually a name for this. Who knew? Ah, the stuff you learn.

Not exactly a sacred week. And yet, in a sense it was absolutely that. If not exactly sacred, absolutely in service to the sacred. For my whole purpose for owning this cottage is to support the sacred work I do here in Ireland, including stewarding the portal in the front garden. As I spend time aligned with the flow of sacred energies here, it’s important that I steward the flow of energies at the cottage. Water, power, and sewage. They all have to flow properly. And that’s what this week has been about. And so yes, sacred sewage.



Rooted In Tree Wisdom

March 7, 2023


Tomorrow I head to Ireland. To be with my tribe. To be with the land. To be with the trees. There, as here at MossTerra, the trees hold such deeply rooted wisdom for us and these times. I travel with the inspiration of Mary Oliver’s The Country of Trees.

Some will endure past the counting of years.
And none will ever speak a single word of complaint,

as though language, after all,
did not work well enough, was only an early stage.
Neither do they ever have any questions to the gods–
which one is the real one, and what is the plan.
As though they have been told everything already,
and are content.

Indeed. We have already been told everything. May we be content.


Life Without Connection

February 22, 2023


Provocative perhaps. Yet right now we are living without connectivity and, as we wander through our days with new rhythms, I’m understanding how connection and connectivity have been parallel threads in our lives. It’s been a gift to remember the distinction.

Last Sunday I received a very powerful healing from my spiritual teachers through a zoom call. Immediately after that transmission my zoom connection died here in my office, I had to restart my computer twice, and the wifi modem at the house died. Dennis insists there’s a link, I’m not so sure. But was it just coincidence?

Now, I’m rarely on social media, never on FB, and so spend very little of my day on line except for emails. But we haven’t been able to hop on and check the weather forecast over our morning coffee, Dennis hasn’t been able to watch those art creation videos he so loves, and argh…we are stuck half way through season six of Shetland. 

It took us a bit to come to peace with this loss of internet connectivity. But we soon realized that what we gained was a lovely connection to conversation, unread books, and just being. Admittedly our grace with this is tempered by knowing this is temporary. The new modem will be connected today. But it gives me a good perspective to hold while we climb back into connectivity. The perspective of life with differently meaningful connection. 

Life with connection. Now a richer life.

You might wonder how I’m able to write this post. I do have wifi here in my office. But am more thoughtful and intentional about how much time I spend here. A good thing.