What it means to walk in right relationship with the wisdom that shaped me. There are stories we inherit, and stories we choose. This one is both. For years, I was hesitant to speak openly about my lineage. Not because I was unsure of it, but because I was protecting it. I feared being misunderstood, judged, or accused of claiming what wasn’t “mine.” But the truth is: this path claimed me. And staying silent began to feel more extractive than reverent. So today, I speak—not to prove anything, but to honor everything. I speak because lineage matters. Because in a time when ancient wisdom is commodified, cherry-picked, or stripped of context, choosing to name and honor the roots I walk upon is not a luxury—it’s a responsibility. I walk a path rooted in remembrance—not appropriation. The work I share is not borrowed, branded, or performed. It is lived. It is earned. It is born of blood, bone, fire, and years of sacred apprenticeship. I carry the mitochondrial memory of ancient European matriarchs—through the rare haplogroup H31, a lineage that has walked the forests, mountains, and mystic rites of northern and eastern Europe. My paternal lineage traces to the Uí Néill dynasty of Ireland, descendants of Niall of the Nine Hostages—warrior-kings and spiritual stewards of the land. From these roots rise the codes of sovereignty, shadow alchemy, and ancestral reverence. 🌿 Why This Blog Needed to Be Written I didn’t wake up one day and decide to become a spiritual teacher. I was called, cracked open, initiated, broken, and remade by the traditions that shaped me. I’ve watched the spiritual marketplace offer watered-down versions of powerful medicines without honoring the lineages they came from. I’ve felt the ache of cultures being mined for meaning by those unwilling to do the soul work of remembrance. And I’ve sat in ceremony with elders who wept, not because their teachings were shared—but because they were shared without reverence. So I’m writing this now to draw a sacred line.