22/03/2025
You can Inforce a uniform but you can’t change what belongs to the wild inside
How Saint Patrick Erased a Spiritual Tradition—but Not Its Power.
“Every March 17th, the world drinks and celebrates a lie. The story goes that Saint Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland, but there were never any real snakes. What was driven out wasn’t something to be feared—it was something powerful. Something sacred.
The serpent has always been a symbol of transformation, wisdom, and the divine within. The Druids knew this. The priestesses knew this. Long before Christianity forced its way in, Ireland’s spiritual traditions honored the land, the cycles of nature, and the power that moves through all living things. The snake wasn’t evil—it was awakening. It was knowledge. It was life force. And that was something Rome, and later the Church, couldn’t control.
Julius Caesar wrote about the Druids, how they held immense power as judges, healers, and spiritual leaders. Unlike Rome’s rigid hierarchies, Celtic society honored both men and women as Druids. Women weren’t just allowed to lead—they were revered for it. They understood the land, the stars, the cycles of birth and death. They carried the traditions, passed down wisdom, and kept the sacred balance.
But power like that—power that came from within, not from some outside institution—was a threat. Rome knew it. The Church knew it. The Druids were hunted, their sacred groves burned, their teachings outlawed. The ones who carried the knowledge, the ones who held the connection to the old ways—they were silenced. And so, the Church buried the truth under stories of saints and miracles, under rewritten myths meant to justify the destruction. Saint Patrick didn’t drive out snakes. He helped erase an entire spiritual tradition.
The erasure didn’t stop with the Druids. The women who carried the old knowledge, who knew how to heal, who listened to the land and the ancestors—they didn’t just fade away. They were hunted. The same women who had once been priestesses and seers became “witches.” The knowledge that had been sacred was now called evil.
A woman in a village who knew how to use herbs, who understood the moon’s cycles, who spoke to the spirits—she was dangerous. To hold knowledge outside of the Church was heresy. To have power as a woman was blasphemy. And so, the fires were lit.
The witch hunts weren’t random, and they weren’t just hysteria. They were systematic. A deliberate attempt to sever people from the land, from their own intuition, from the truth that divinity was something you could touch, something that lived inside of you.
But here’s the thing—wisdom like that doesn’t just disappear. You can burn the books, scorch the voices, rewrite the stories. But you can’t erase what’s written into the earth itself. The rivers still carry the echoes of old prayers. The standing stones still hum with the energy of those who once gathered there. The trees that survived remember. The land holds the memory, waiting for those who know how to listen.
And now, we are remembering.
This isn’t a resurgence. It’s a reckoning. The knowledge that was outlawed didn’t vanish—it was forced underground, waiting for the right moment to return. It passed down through generations to live in the bones of those who still hear the call. In the ones who have woken and know something was stolen from them.”
-Author unknown
The serpent was never meant to be cast out—it was meant to rise.
And it issssssss🐍
