The Morrígan
Even if you don’t believe in these “kinds of things,” I promise it will be an interesting story.
The first step on any spiritual journey is to learn the folklore and mythology of your ancestral line. White people—yes, you have ancestors who practiced spirituality. If you feel called to “dabble,” the call is coming from inside the house...
I am Irish, French, German, and British.
My mentor instructed me to choose the lineage I felt most connected to. Easy—Irish. In college, I traced my family’s roots all the way back to Ireland: from their arrival on Beaver Island, Michigan, to the way they built their lives and spread out across the Great Lakes. It’s a beautiful story—one my grandpa and I both love. Now, it cracks me up because… what do you mean I’ve been subconsciously trying to find them all this time??? I even did a little pilgrimage to Beaver Island in grad school… I can’t.
What’s particularly remarkable is that my mom’s side of the family has done an incredible job preserving our history. My grandpa’s sisters kept meticulous records—stories, names, old letters, travel logs, newspaper clippings—everything. So by the time I went looking, the stories were already there. Funny how that works.
After the first session with my mentor, I went straight home, ready to begin the research.
But where do you even find these stories?
Believe it or not, TikTok is actually a great resource to learn about spirituality. Sure, plenty of people don’t know what they’re talking about—as you develop a higher frequency, your bullshit detector improves—but many do. And some carry generational wisdom. So that’s where I started.
And I shit you not: I grabbed a glass of wine, sat down on my bed, opened TikTok—and the very first video that appeared was about The Morrígan: Phantom Queen and Celtic Goddess of War and Fate. Naturally, I watched the whole thing. Then I watched ten more. Suddenly, I was deep in a rabbit hole exploring her mythology, power, and presence throughout Celtic lore. Of course, I did my due diligence. I read everything I could about Irish deities, folklore, and mythology—but none of them resonated with me quite like her.
And, as you’ll see, the synchronicities leading up to that moment were… interesting.
I started learning from my mentor in October 2024. Even before our first session, I became hyper-fixated on ravens. I even bought a raven lamp that now sits on my desk. I’ve actually always loved ravens—Edgar Allan Poe was the first writer who ever made sense of my darkness. But this felt different, and I don’t consider that a coincidence. One of the most common signs that The Morrígan is calling to you is an attraction to crows or ravens. Another is that she often appears to those who are new to spiritual practice, still learning to trust their intuition.
Even the simple desire to learn more about her is a sign, and I bought two books about The Morrígan right away. Later, I also discovered she’s drawn to obsidian and onyx. And wouldn’t you know it—those were the first two crystals I ever bought.
I’ve also always had the feeling that I’m being watched. For most of my life, that sensation was real; I had almost no privacy growing up. But even beyond that, I’ve long sensed what spiritual people call the psychic gaze—the awareness of something unseen, watching, maybe even protecting. I’m certain that’s why the movie Paranormal Activity freaked me out so badly. I’ve always known that darkness exists in the unseen. I used to joke, “I don’t worry about burglars or murderers—I can see them. It’s what I can’t see that terrifies me.” And when I tell you I slept with the lights on for six months after that movie…
Another truth I’ve always known is how essential it is for humans to understand our connection to the land—how vital it is that we remember our oneness with nature. That belief is what first drew me to Indigenous cultures. Learning about Native Americans was always one of the units I looked forward to most in school, and by grad school, that early fascination evolved into more intentional archival work. I spent a semester researching about how the United States government carried out what historians call a “Christian civilizing mission” to erase Native culture—summed up chillingly in the phrase “Kill the Indian, save the man.” That research is arguably the best work I’ve ever done.
In case you missed it, a few years ago, there was a major news story about children’s graves discovered in Canada near a former government-sponsored school for Native children. The truth is, it’s far worse than most people realize. There are mass graves of Native children surrounding nearly every government-sponsored school on reservations across North America.
As I write this, I’m realizing I should probably talk more about my research, The current efforts by the Trump administration and the political right to reshape education bear eerie similarities to those earlier assimilation campaigns…
All that work I’d done—trying to understand how we might begin to right those wrongs—left me wondering how we could one day integrate Indigenous principles of sovereignty, balance, and reciprocity into modern systems of governance. But of course, that vision inevitably collides with capitalism. The more we exploit nature, the more disconnected we become—from the Earth, from each other, and from ourselves. Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved James Cameron’s “Avatar.” It’s an Indigenous story of what happens when the human spirit forgets its relationship with the living world (I also believe it’s a kind of documentary on spiritual awakening, but that’s a topic for another time).
The Morrígan also tends to appear to those in the midst of major transformation. And that tracks. I was in the process of starting my own business, technically unemployed, living in New York City, and just beginning to explore my spirituality.
And the more I learned about her, the more everything started to feel… a little too coincidental.
The Morrígan is a goddess from Irish mythology. Her name translates to Great Queen or Phantom Queen, and she is known as a powerful force presiding over war, death, and fate. In the old Irish tales, she is both the goddess of destruction and the embodiment of destiny itself. She decides who will live, who will fall, and what lessons will come from it all.
She’s part of the Tuatha Dé Danann, a divine race of gods and goddesses who ruled Ireland before Christianity. Like most spiritual traditions, these stories were nearly erased with the spread of Christianity. The Morrígan is often described as a triad of sisters known collectively as The Morrígna. Together, they represent three faces of one power: war, sovereignty, and the land itself.
In the stories, she often appears as a crow or raven on the battlefield, circling above the fighting to choose who will die. She’s also called the “Washer at the Ford,” a woman seen washing bloodstained armor before battle, which represents a vision of death’s inevitability. Though she embodies destruction, she is also a fierce protector, ensuring that justice is upheld, the land remains fertile, and rightful leaders rule. She represents both ends of the cycle—chaos and order, death and rebirth.
Her myths are interesting as well.
In The Táin Bó Cúailnge, she confronts the hero Cú Chulainn, first as a woman offering him love, then as a shapeshifter turning into an eel, a wolf, and a pig to test him in battle. When he finally dies, she appears as a crow perched on his shoulder, reminding us that fate always has the final word.
In The Battle of Mag Tuired, she unites with the Dagda, the chief god, on the eve of war. Their union symbolizes her blessing over the land and its rulers; and together, they lead their people to victory. Afterward, she delivers a prophecy about the end of the world—a reminder that even triumph carries its shadow.
Today, The Morrígan is seen as both a teacher and a mirror. She’s not gentle about it, either. She pushes you to face the truth, break old patterns, and reclaim your personal power. At her core, The Morrígan represents sovereignty over nations and the self. To walk with her is to take full responsibility for your choices and to stop apologizing for your own power. Courage, integrity, and self-trust are sacred requirements.
Look, all I know is that there are several similarities between The Morrígan and myself.
If you look at my astrological chart, you’ll see someone who is a master of death and rebirth. I literally have the tarot card “Death” hanging on my wall. And if you look at the life I’ve lived, you’ll see someone who has been fighting for justice and truth from the very beginning. I’ve spent my life trying to figure out how to take what I’ve learned through study, loss, and experience, and use it to help others. And maybe that’s part of why she came to me.
Did she appear to remind me that rebellion isn’t just my nature; it’s part of my purpose?
I mean, let’s be honest. We’re living in a time where systems are collapsing, truth is an illusion, and inequality rivals that of the Gilded Age.
I can’t help but wonder if she reached out to me now, to remind me that it’s my job to challenge, to disrupt, to provoke when necessary?
I also genuinely believe that if we don’t change course soon, humanity will not survive. And I do feel like it is my responsibility to educate, to warn, and to help awaken people to what’s at stake.
Perhaps The Morrígan called me to embrace chaos where it’s necessary, to step fully into my power, and to use that power for something greater?
