The Ocean Between Us
On Separation, grief, and the mythic map of motherhood: exploring the Celtic myths of Rhiannon and Mabon ap Modron
My children are separated by an ocean.
For most of the year, the Atlantic sighs and swirls between us.
How could this be?
My grieving body wonders on those nights where the ancient ones seem absent, and I am begging them for the miraculous—anything to change the circumstances.
At times, I’ve worried—how might this ocean erode our foundation? Will it leave a wound so deep beneath the surface, we won’t be able to reach it?
At times, I’ve traded my faith and knowing for guilt and shame, drowned myself in confusion’s murky gulfs.
At times, I’ve let in the nightmarish voices of my parents, the false accusations and blame launched by my ex, or my own sister with full conviction.
At times, I’ve had to fight to hold on—to keep the tempest from swallowing me whole.
✨For Paid Subscribers Only: An Intimate Story✨
When I was pregnant with my daughter, I was deep in the third and most grueling year of the custody battle over my son.
What follows is a deeper sharing—one I’ve reserved for paid subscribers.
🚪Here, I open the door a little wider.
🕯️I speak more openly about my story:
🔥How heartbreak and fear became an alchemical fire for my voice.
🌊What I’ve learned by carrying grief as a mother across lands.
🌵The accusations I endured—and the deeper truth I chose to stand in, again and again.
🌱How we were guided across the sea toward a life we hadn’t dared to dream.
Through the myth of Rhiannon from the Mabinogi—one of the oldest and most complete collections of British Celtic myth, steeped in stories of mothers and sons, estrangement and return—we’ll walk together through the ancestral pattern of the accused mother, the exiled woman, the soul who follows spirit’s call even when the world cannot understand.
✨ In addition to these stories, subscribers will also receive a rune reading, and a link to a guided shamanic rune journey to the otherworld to receive deeper wisdom and guidance from the ancestors, as well as a set of gentle prompts to support your own grief work, writing, and reclamation.
This story is especially for you if:
You hold a vision that feels nearly impossible to manifest
You fear that answering your soul’s calling might cost you everything
You’ve been scapegoated, misunderstood, or bear the ache of estrangement
You’re navigating separation, motherhood, or sacred becoming
You’ve known the pain of being misnamed—and the holy courage of reclaiming yourself
You long to hear from myth, Spirit, and a fellow traveler on this path
If something within you whispered yes while reading,
I hope you’ll join me inside. 🕯
