Remembering our roots, reclaiming our wings

A little Irish keen (grief song) + liberation spell I wrote for me, for us

I know I’m not the only one that has sometimes felt absolutely crazy when tuning into the circus that is the news around our current administration. It feels like we’ve been living in the Twilight Zone for some time, and it just keeps getting weirder and more disturbing the more things are exposed. Singing and songwriting (and a hefty dose of silliness with my children and listening to the birds) are the main ways I am staying “semi-sane” amidst the waves of rage and grief and fear that I feel any given day right now.

In a song of mine (called “Magic in the Blue”), I share what feels like a life mantra for me around creativity:

“Keep creating, keep on making, in the way that only you do.

It is what will save us as we face the darkest blue.

Everyone has art inside them in how we see and walk the world.

Create beauty, offer love, this is how we alchemize the blue.”

(You can check that song out here if you’re curious to hear it.)

I truly believe that leaning into our inner artists right now is one of the greatest medicinal elixirs for all of us. When we are actively creating, we are generating, imagining, birthing something new into the world. It’s a way to process and move the massive amounts of energy, emotion, intensity, and destruction that are happening on both individual and collective levels. It feels absolutely necessary in these transformational times to stay with the vital energy of creation and birthing while we simultaneously grieve what is dying (and perhaps has been decaying for some time)—in our individual lives, in our relationships, in the identities we have clung to, in our collective systems, and in the world at large.

(Important side note: The reality is that we are ALL artists. We are ALL creative in more ways than we realize. I believe that with every fiber of my being. Each and every one of us carries a sacred fire within us, a creative spark of life that is sometimes meandering quietly and sometimes rushing wildly through our veins. If you don’t believe that, stick around, as I am sure I will be circling back to this important topic in a future post!)

IT ALL BELONGS. Both the grieving AND the creating, the endings and the new beginnings, the death and the (re-)birth, the composting soil and the new shoots bursting through, the bones and the buds, the roots and the wings, the energy of the Cailleach (winter, decay) and of Brigid (spring, new life).¹

A beautiful “Cailleach tree” from Craggy Gardens in Western North Carolina. I took a photo of her the day after my little brother passed away (November 8, 2021).

I’m sure my clients tire of me using the phrase “the both/and,” when we discuss holding polarities inside of ourselves and in relationship to each other and the world at large. But it truly is a main theme of my own journey, of my work on this planet, and of these times we are living in. We are being called to hold wildly disparate energies in our own lives and in the collective. But to know we are standing on the shoulders of ancestors who have also navigated these same energies in their own tumultuous eras in history brings some comfort and a sense of solidarity and support from beyond the veil.

All of that being said, I must say that my second post here feels far scarier than my first. I am moving into raw territory that feels more vulnerable for me. For my first post, I shared my song, “Rest, then Rise.” If you didn’t get a chance to check it out, it here’s the post (which includes the music video). It gives a good little teaser around why I started Melodic Elixir and my vision for the music and musings that I hope will emerge from my humble little garden plot of Substack. I love this song and still resonate so deeply with all the lyrics, the music, and the gorgeous music video that my talented friends helped me to make. But the truth is that it has been performed many times, perfected, recorded, produced, edited, and polished into the radio-ready song / video that you hear and see now.

But this tender little song baby that I’m about to share with you emerged just days ago, was recorded on the fly on my iPhone in my own little creative lair, was written in Irish (an ancestral language of mine that I’m only recently rediscovering), and is a far cry from being perfected, edited, polished, etc. Eek! Yes, this is intimidating. But it is also freeing to trust that the creative process and the art that flows out of me is bigger than myself.

I’ve always believed that music has a spirit of its own, and I’m just lucky enough to be a channel, a conduit, a bridge, a grateful participant in the dance. In the Nordic and Celtic land-based traditions of my ancestors, music has long been considered divination, a healing modality (not simply “entertainment,” a category music has been sanitized for and relegated to in modern society). I felt this generational wisdom bubbling up from within as I followed the lead of my muses and more-than-human kin, allowed the melody to twirl and move the way it wished to, honored the wave of emotions (individual, collective, and ancestral) rushing through me as I wrote from the depths of my body and my heart.

This is the first tune I’ve ever written in Irish. It’s less singer-songwriter-y than my other songs. And it’s more of a blend between a meditative keen (Irish grief song) and a liberation spell, a prayerful declaration of the beauty and healing and freedom I long to see in myself, in the world, in all of us. This song is a part of how I’m processing the unspeakable, brutal effects of a violent occupation in my home state of Minnesota (while also thinking of Palestine, the child victims of the Epstein class and of ICE, and all abused, oppressed, and violated children everywhere). And it’s simultaneously how I am using my voice and my body to imagine in and speak into existence a world that is truly free, just, and loving for all beings. It’s a simple, heartfelt cry from the depths of my soul.

Less words + more repetition + lyrics in an ancestral language forgotten by my family for many generations = more embodied vocal expression + less time stuck in my head. I did my best to double-check on pronunciation and word translation with some Irish-speaking friends. And yet at the end of the day, I am still a European American (a descendant of my immigrant ancestors) who has lost so much of the languages, songs, and culture of my heritage due to assimilation and colonization.

But I do believe that remembering and reconnecting to ancestral wisdom and land-based traditions (however clumsily and imperfectly) is one powerful way I can feel into my forgotten roots. And when many of us are remembering, reconnecting, and digging into generational repair work (which is happening more and more in the mental health field, the spiritual / wellness realm, and beyond!), it can be a part of a healing that ripples across Mother Earth and backwards and forwards through time.

We are each here on this planet for a reason. As the Irish say, “Ní neart go cur le chéile.” There is no strength without unity. We need each other. We all belong. We are deeply interwoven (more than we even realize) in this great web of life.

Let this song wash over you. May it be a gift, a companion, a witness, an invitation to dream a more beautiful collective dream, a liberatory spell of hope, a mothering melody to hold your tender heart as you feel your pain and the world’s pain. Sing, scream, cry, pray, dance along if you want to. Here’s to love and liberation for all beings.

(I’ve shared the lyrics below if you want to know the words and the translation.)

(In Irish)

Grá agus saoirse do gach duine

Ní neart go cur le chéile

Saoirse don Mni Sóta Makoce

Saoirse don Phalaistin

Saoirse do gach leanbh

Agus mar sin atá sé

(English translation)

Love and liberation for all people

There is no strength without unity

Freedom for Minnesota (Mni Sóta Makoce is the traditional Indigenous Dakota name which means “the land where the water reflects the sky”)

Freedom for Palestine

Freedom for all children

And so it is

I had every intention of sharing more about myself in this and coming posts—my professional qualifications (including almost two decades as a psychotherapist) and more about my journey as a mystic, musician, mama, etc. I’ll get to that, as I still think it’s somewhat relevant, and some of you may be curious. But honestly, it doesn’t feel important in this very moment.

Words (especially hyper-curated words) have felt emptier and emptier these days. But intentional sound, soul-filling silence, grounded presence. Rhythm. Ritual. Rootedness. That is what I’m craving the most in these wild and crazy times we find ourselves living in. And that’s where this song was birthed from. From the earth, from the ether, from cracking open my heart to be the bridge across space and time, from the Otherworld and from my ancestors, to me and to you.

1. A special shout-out to Jennifer Murphy and Sarah Richardson, two Irish “bean feasas” (wise women / healers) who created a beautiful month-long container called Threshold. Their sacred space of ancestrally-inspired ritual support has been such a magical gift to help me alchemize the intense individual and collective energies of this season. I highly recommend checking out the stunning work they are up to as soul midwives!