Brighde has long been honoured as a patron of creativity, poetry and craftsmanship.

Creativity is at the heart of much of what I offer because I believe it is one of the most natural ways we make sense of ourselves and the world around us.

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We are all born creative. Yet as we grow, ideas about what is good, useful or acceptable can sometimes cause us to lose touch with that natural impulse. Much of my work is about remembering the creative gifts we already have and giving ourselves permission to explore them without judgement.

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Whether through traditional crafts, writing, sound, movement or ceremony, creative expression allows us to slow down, explore new possibilities and open ourselves to what might emerge. The process is often more important than the finished piece.

We can put aside the cultural notions of what is ‘good’ or ‘successful’ and simply follow our natural flow.

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Following a walk by the River Don with my son and the dogs, I was inspired to write the following poem:

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Brigantia

The river runs clear and cold, Brigantia’s blessing, goddess of the sacred stream, of high places and deep hearth.

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From high ground to open sea, she moves through the land, not in one place, but in the whole of it.

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The river carries the memory of the high places from which it came.

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My son, a man now, tall and quiet, walks beside me while the dogs plunge through the shallows, sending silver arcs into the light.

Wild garlic thickens the air along the bank, sharp and green, the scent of ancient, unfussy abundance. It grows and spreads along the bank, steady and unasked.

Mint creeps at our feet, cool and persistent, connecting what looks separate like family.

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Courage looks different now.

Once it was mountain courage, hard and watchful, standing against the weather for the sake of those I loved.

Now it is river courage, learning to flow around what cannot be held.

Letting him walk the river side of the path. Trusting his own footing. Having faith in his judgement.

Letting the small warnings that once meant love fall away.

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The life I imagined runs alongside this one, quieter now, like another channel of the river hidden beyond the reeds.

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Community is the quiet ease between us. No performance, no fixing. Just a mother and her son, grown, separate, and still choosing to walk the same bank. Cherishing the deep, steady love that simply is.

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Brigantia holds the thresholds, in the high places, in the crossing points, where river meets sea, between holding on and letting be, between the woman who once carried him and the one who now walks beside him.

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And there, by Her river, we are simply that. Rooted in wild garlic, steadied by mint, held by the current, and strong enough to love each other without holding on too tightly.

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The path widens again, and I follow, not certain, but willing.