Following the Ley Lines: A Journey Through Glasto & Cornwall

My recent journey through Glastonbury and Cornwall was more than travel — it was a sacred return. Guided by the ley lines and the pull of something ancient, I walked a path of energy, memory, and deep reconnection.

In Glastonbury, the land vibrates with timeless presence. At Glastonbury Abbey, surrounded by moss-covered ruins and whispering trees, I felt a softness in the air — as if the past was still breathing, inviting me to remember. There was a quiet reverence in those stones, a sense of being held. Time felt suspended. Sacred.

And then came the water. At Chalice Well, the Red Spring flows with a heartbeat of its own. I stood near the well, listening, receiving. The water seemed to carry emotion, moving through me just as it moved through the land. I felt my own energy shifting — a quiet release, a gentle opening.

Walking up to the Tor, with the wind at my back and the earth beneath me, I felt elevated and grounded all at once. The view stretched forever, but the moment felt so deeply internal. A homecoming. And then, as if summoned by the magic of the land itself, I reunited with a dear friend — a medicine woman whose presence has always felt deeply healing. There she was at the Tor, playing guitar and singing, her voice weaving through the air like a prayer. It was pure magic. An unexpected blessing that felt orchestrated by spirit — a reminder that we’re always being guided, always being met in ways the heart recognizes even before the mind can catch up.

Cornwall. In Rocky Valley, I was moved by the merging of earth and water, ancient carvings and wild nature. The spirals etched into the rock seemed to mirror something in me — a memory from long before I could name it. The stream rushing through the valley sang a song of motion and transformation. I felt emotion rise without warning, as if the landscape was unlocking something tender within.

And then the stone circles… these sacred geometries in the landscape where energy doesn’t just flow — it spins. Standing within those circles, I could feel the pulse of the Earth beneath me, the turning of invisible wheels, the sacred mathematics of spirit and land. One circle in particular seemed to hum — like I was standing in the center of a frequency I didn’t need to understand to feel. My body responded. My heart opened.

Each site brought a different kind of awakening. From the wild coastlines to the stillness of ancient stones, the land guided me inward. It taught me to listen more deeply. To feel with the whole body. To trust the unseen.

I am so full of gratitude for this journey — for the Earth and her quiet wisdom, for the energy that flowed through every footstep, for the emotions stirred by water and stone, for the beautiful souls who walked this path beside me, and for the insights and messages whispered by nature.

I return with my energy restored, my heart open, and my spirit aligned. This journey reminded me of the sacredness that is always available — in the land, in connection, and within ourselves.

There is something timeless about following the ley lines. They don’t just move through the Earth — they move through us. And when we walk them with intention, something inside us remembers: we belong.