My Temple Journey 
- A Note from Clodagh

​Priestess of the Temple of Sacred Remembrance
 

I live in the west of Ireland, near the edges of land and sea.
It’s where my body first remembered Her.
 

My spiritual journey began at 18, with a direct and overwhelming experience of the Divine. It cracked something open in me — a knowing, a heat, a hunger. And that hunger never left. It still lives in me now, just as active, just as insistent.

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I’ve walked many paths since then.
I’ve sat with mystics and saints, rested in the arms of monastic silence,
and trained in many modalities — psychotherapy among them.
But all of it, really, has been about one thing: remembering God.
God in the feminine. God in the body. God in the breath and belly.

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Psychotherapy, for me, is soul-mapping.
A way home to your own divinity — through the ache, the loss, the longing.
A place where self, God, and other begin to touch again.

 

A few years ago, I found myself in Chartres Cathedral in France,
walking the labyrinth — a sacred portal of the Divine Feminine.
There, I heard Her. Clearly.

“Bring the women home.”

I tried to ignore it. It felt too big. Too terrifying.
It was easier to keep my devotion quiet—tucked into the attic room of my house, where I prayed, blended oils, studied, wept, wrote.
But the call didn’t soften.
 

Days later, I found my Mystery School.
The path of the Priestess began. And it has undone me in every way.

This wasn’t a smooth or linear decision.
It required me to die to everything I thought I was.
To choose devotion over approval — again and again,
especially my own.

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This is not a path for the faint-hearted.
There are days I still wonder if I should stay silent.
But the spiral pulls me on.
And each time a woman rises from Temple, I remember why I stayed.

 

I work full-time as a psychotherapist and couples therapist.
My clients often call me half-witch, half-mystic.
I run monthly feminine Temples here in Mayo.
And I am a devoted member of the Hive Council within my Mystery School — Priestess Presence.

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In my spare time, you’ll find me in my little attic prayer room.
Praying. Blending oils. Reading mystic texts.
Writing prayers with a cracked-open heart.
Dancing with all my might.

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I live with my beloved man, Sean, our dogs Ash and Blue, and six fine hens.
My son, Connor, sails the seas of Greece.
That, too, is part of the mystery.

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I’ve come home.
And now, I hold the Temple so other women can come home too.
To their bodies.
To the Goddess.
To the remembrance that they are already holy.