The stories behind the songs:

A WITCH'S LETTER TO GOD. It seems almost trendy to call yourself a witch these days, which overall I take to be a good sign. As Lisa Lister points out in her book 'Witch', to reclaim that word (is to an invoke an encounter with 'the witch wound', and that work is not for the fainthearted. In 'My Grandmother's Hands', Resmaa Menakem traces the epigenetic roots of the brutality inflicted on slaves in the U.S. back to the persecution of European women during the witch hunts, where between 35,000 - 100,000 'witches' were executed. The trauma that was imprinted on the bodies and minds of the victims and perpetrators, still has strong reverberations today. For many of the women I know, cellular memories of persecution often show up as a constriction in their throats or inexplicable terror when it comes to speaking, or singing, their truth publicly.

OSTARA was one of those songs that poured out all at once. I was out walking in the dark on a night when the moon was full but hidden. I was grieving the end of a relationship, as well as anticipating my father's imminent death, and this made me thin-skinned, permeable and receptive. The sight of Venus between the branches of two adjacent trees stopped me in my tracks. I was being shown that there is a third, transcendent energy that emerges from the balance of opposites, which I understand as the Christ consciousness. The song builds on a past life/ archetypal memory related to the death of a beloved teacher and brother - maybe not Jesus himself but a very wise, gentle and loving man whose absence my soul has been grieving ever since he 'went on ahead to call us back to where we're from."

THE LOTUS EATERS will always remind me of my friend Jane Walden, who left me the money in her will to make this album, and was always a big supporter of my music. She loved Homer's Odyssey, and chose the poem 'Ithaka' by C.P. Cavafy to be read at her funeral. She believed in living passionately, "Let's not be 'spectacularly mediocre'" says Jane from beyond the grave, "Let's do whatever it takes to get back on that ship."

I wrote THE UGLY DUCKLING while living near 'the lough' in Cork city, a lake that attracts many different kinds of birds. I wrote it to help me understand why I had become entangled in a spiritual community which turned out to be creating as many wounds as it was healing. Writing this helped me forgive myself for my lack of discernment. The need to belong is so strong. The journey towards authenticity involves many initiations by exile.

THE TALE THAT NO-ONE TELLS was inspired by a night of torrential rain when myself and a friend took shelter in Callanan's on George's quay in Cork city centre. Whilst standing at the crowded bar my friend poured a few drops of a mysterious oil into my palm. Before she would let me take in the scent, she instructed me that as I did so, I had to "tune in to the history at the centre of the room'. This song is the result. The red-haired lady, historically misrepresented and underrepresented, is Mary Magdalene. The pseudo Latin is from google translate. This is what I hope it says: "Hail Mary, the wife of Jesus, in the same spiritual condition as Jesus, the lover of Jesus, blessed are you."


STRANGE LITTLE SMILE speaks of overcoming the misery of enmeshment and co-dependence. The Hindu Goddess is Akiladashwari sometimes called 'She-Who-Is-Never-Not-Broken' appeared as a healing ally for me in this process. Images of Akilandashwari often show her standing on a crocodile. Perhaps this represents our potential for mastery over the oldest parts of the brain that are entirely concerned with physical survival, sometimes called the 'lizard brain'. Living with complex PTSD was like wrestling this crocodile, not just once but repeatedly over many years Learning to eventually use that crocodile as a surfboard is quite an achievement.

It is always special to encounter a SHEELA-NA-GIG carving on the side of an old church. PJ Harvey's brilliant song of the same title expresses Sheela's 'exhibitionist' energy directly, as did Sinead O'Connor when she tore up a picture of the Pope, and so did Maya Angelou when she delivered 'And Still I Rise' to a crowded theatre, straight from that oil well at the meeting of her thighs. My song is more about my terror of expressing her energies directly (see 'witch wound' reference above). In the song, the 'old friends' I am clinging to are Fear and Shame. Sheela is the ultimate antidote to these two miserable beasts.


IN THE TEMPLE OF ISIS. The more I learn to recognise and integrate my multidimensional selves with my more 'everyday' selves, the more I am able to remember core archetypal memories. It's like I'm being drawn back to the roots of certain human stories that we have been replaying throughout history. This particular drama occurs in ancient Egypt. For generations the temple priestesses have been honoured as leaders and wayshowers. Patriarchal forces emerge, raping and pillaging and desecrating the Goddess temples. The Goddess Isis is sometimes called the 'She of a Thousand Names'. She is said to have been a shapeshifter who manifested actual physical wings. She was a powerful healer who resurrected her beloved Osiris after her brother Set chopped him into pieces. Perhaps Osiris is the man in the song who loves what the others despise and wants a different prize.

OUR LADY OF THE SWANS was inspired by a 12 week online course called Lost Rites: Ceremony and Ritual for Death and Dying, led by Alexandra Derwen. Alexandra introduced us to the ancient practice of keening. One of the many reasons I was drawn to this course is because I realised I was 'death-phobic'. The stories of grief and strength wisdom I heard healed my heart by breaking it open. I was left with a sense of profound appreciation for how brave and noble us humans can be, when we find the courage to face our pain directly.
I was so moved by the group's capacity to tell their stories that Our Lady of the Swans insisted on being spoken not sung. It felt important to let my voice be naked, without a melody to hide behind.

THE PROMISE KEEPERS celebrates all the wonderful courageous artists, entrepeneurs, priestesses, witches, alchemists, teachers, healers, and weirdos, who have found the courage to follow their true callings, sharing their medicine, their gifts, their unique perspectives. People such as Rupi Kaur, who wrote this:

'your art
is not about how many people like your work
your art
is about
if your heart likes your work
if your soul likes your work
it's about how honest
you are with yourself
and you
must never
trade honesty
for relatability

- to all you young poets'

ONE DAY I'LL BE REAL is the most vulnerable song on the album. I felt I'd finally managed to articulate something that had been on the tip of my tongue my whole life. It speaks to having been exposed to intense objectification, of being forced to sacrifice my natural, authentic self and to operate from a 'role self' instead. The more I learn, heal, grow, and listen to other women's stories, the more I understand that this is a collective, transgenerational wound. Thanks to Bethany Webster, I now understand that the most insidious forms of patriarchy and are passed on from mothers to daughters. My prayer is that future generations of little girls grow up without having to choose between connection and authenticity, at ease in their own skin.