The Morrigan and devotion

I can’t believe that September is done and we’re entering October. Time has been flying lately! #31DaysMorrigan kicks off tomorrow on Instagram and I’m excited! The Morrigan has been doing her thing in our relationship that she seems to do. Which is mostly standing at my back, giving me pushes when I’m more hesitant, and guiding me when I’m feeling lost.

Sometimes she's quiet, and other times...you KNOW she's around.

When I was trying to think about what to blog about, she gave me a nudge.


Hey, she said. You got that devotional thing you're doing to me, right? Shouldn’t you, you know...blog about me?


Well, I should, I’m just not sure what to say. There’s a lot of great bloggers out there who have said a lot about you.


Uh huh. And? That means you can’t blog about me?


No! I just...I don’t know. I don’t want to step on toes, and all I got is UPG…


There was silence and it was pressing. Disapproving. She doesn't like it when I doubt myself. It's the same as doubting her. So she was waiting for me to get the message, to figure it out. I was moving around my house and I hit my toes on my bed, not enough to hurt them, thankfully, because I’ve done that and it sucks. But enough to remind myself...the only toes I should be concerned about are my own.


You want me to do it anyway. I get it, I get it. Alright, I finally say, resigned to her wisdom.

She sits, and watches and guides when I'm off course.

I don’t remember when The Morrigan came into my life the first time, but when I was going through some rough times, and discovered her name, I put things together. There was a sense of familiarity- that feeling and presence I had as a kid surviving abuse. The one that whispered to tell someone when I was being hurt so something could be done.


It was the same voice that whispered to avoid doing some really dumb things, because I was smarter and better than that possible scenario. The one that told me it was ok to fight, the one that told me that staying strong looked different than lashing out, raging and the one who told me that breaking certain cycles started with me, choosing to break that cycle.


Even when I turned my back on my beliefs out of fear of damnation, confusion and the desire to fit in with friends, she was still there, helping me to stay strong, but letting me do the whole work of sorting all that shit out. I would never say The Morrigan handed me anything, or granted me wishes or answered my prayers. That's not how any of it works. But she was there, always. She simply stood with me, her presence inciting me to be better, to do better, to grow and change and learn.


It was when I had her name that she gave me anything, and that was the keys to finding a better purpose for myself. A way to serve her, and serve myself. While I realize some of this is rather obscure, a lot of it is of a personal nature. But the steps I took then, and the ones I take now, creating Liminal Raven Ministry, getting my community ministry certificate, my spiritual direction certification, and combining them with my masters in social work so that I can aid our community as well as create my own path are all because The Morrigan led me to this place.


There is sometimes a debate on whether The Morrigan is a mother figure. She had a child, Meiche, who had to be killed in order to save Ireland from the three serpents in his heart. I always wonder how that affected her, and I can’t surmise because I’m not a divine being, but a human. Macha gave birth to twins after her race against the King of Ulster. But giving birth doesn’t always make a mother. I’ve known too many women who gave birth and did awful things to their children, and I know women who did not give birth, but made spectacular moms.

My altar to her

I don’t see The Morrigan as one of the types of mothers who are gentle and loving, with lots of nurturing and hugs. Or one of the motherly earth goddesses that pick you up and console you when things are tough in life. I see her as the type of mother that really pushes their kid to do their best, and be successful, usually in a strict way, sometimes in an overbearing way. The kind where sometimes you want to rage against, but you also know that she is wise and knows what’s up. She's the kind of Goddess that hands you a sword or a spear and tells you to "Take care of it." She's the warrior who looks at you and says "Are you done yet?", and reaches a hand to pull you up from the ground as you wipe away your tears.


The Morrigan is not gentle, she’s no nonsense, and doesn’t let me place my weaknesses as reasons to fail or not act. She calls out my bullshit, and it can get deeply uncomfortable at times, as well as be really fucking difficult! Excuse the language, but honestly, this is the truth in my experience. She's not completely unforgiving though, and at least in my own relationship, she works with me. Will she hit me with a cosmic 2x4 if I don't listen, or keep getting stuck repeating the same stupid mistakes? Oh you bet. But not usually on the first go. She gives me a chance to learn first.


To me, she's a badass warrior goddess and she is someone whom I respect and honor.

I am her priestess.

We are all called to serve in our own way, and I'd be the first to admit, I'm not meant for the frontline battle. I'm support, I'm hear to help heal the wounds, to incite and empower, to help strengthen minds and spirits for upcoming battles. Part of my devotion has been to discover that calling.


#31DaysMorrigan is a part of my devotional work to her- this is my public devotion, created as a way for others to join in on that devotion, and honor her. Liminal Raven Ministries is also, in a way, a part of my devotional work to her. In 2020, she told me what she wanted of me, and that the path would be long and hard. Within days of that message, the CMC program was dropped on my lap. As of today, I have one module remaining. The next 31 days are dedicated to her and to completing the program. All of which coincides around the anniversary of my first ritual of formal dedication as her priestess.


Things are coming together, yeah?


Yeah, though I doubt I can breathe easier…


She laughs. Maybe a little easier. For now.