Sacred sites and consciousness

At first, we visit sacred sites to heal ourselves.
We are drawn to their peace, their stillness, their ancient resonance. These places support us in remembering who we truly are, helping us to rebalance and restore.
As our awareness deepens, so does the reason for our visits. In time, we begin to visit not only for our own healing, but also to offer something in return. We come to be of service — to use our consciousness so that the consciousness of the place can experience itself in the physical realm, through us.

When consciousness is experienced, it becomes more present. And as presence deepens, it expands; radiating into all of existence. In this way, the universe itself evolves, because each thread of consciousness contributes to the whole.

Whenever we interact with a space in conscious awareness, we invite its unique frequency into the world. That consciousness expresses through us—through our sight, our voice, our movement. By being felt and experienced, it rebalances and aligns itself with the Earth. It harmonises the space in which it resides, and disharmonies within it begin to resolve.

This subtle shift has wider effects. It ripples into the collective field, supporting a more harmonious geometric pattern that underlies all living things. When we engage consciously with place, we help weave more harmony into the world.

Jervaulx Abbey in spring

A journey into the subtle dialogue between sacred place and conscious presence.

As soon as I enter the grounds, I feel a shift in the atmosphere. This is going to be interesting, I think to myself.
Massive trees stood throughout the parkland surrounding the abbey, and one in particular draws my attention. It’s ancient—so old it has lost its bark and branches, and only the tall, weathered trunk remains. To the eyes, it looks either dead or dying. But energetically, it’s very much alive. I sit beneath it to attune. As I open to its presence, I feel its energy flowing through me—running up my spine, grounding me deeply, filling me with strength and quiet confidence. What a wonderful feeling.

The abbey itself is breathtaking. Despite its ruins, it still speaks of its past. The walls are laced with spring flowers, softening the stone with vibrant colour and a touch of wild grace.

I let my intuition lead the way as I wander through the site. Sixth sense open, I notice how each part of the abbey holds a different feel. In some places I’m drawn to linger, listening inwardly. How does it feel here? What is different about this space? What can I offer, and how can I use my awareness to support the energy that is present here?

After exploring, I stop by the tearoom — home to what might genuinely be the most delicious cakes in Britain. No exaggeration. And the coffee is just as good.

Jervaulx abbey

Two weeks later, I return. As I enter the grounds, a gentle energy brushes against my field, soft and familiar. I feel welcomed, recognised. My body relaxes, my mind eases. I smile.

A playful mood rises in me. I begin photographing details, capturing the ancient beauty of the abbey without ever showing it fully. When I come to a window sill, I lean against it to let the sun shine on my face as I gaze out through the stone frame. Then I simply walk around the window through the long gone wall. There’s something interesting about looking out of a window when there are no walls. Suddenly the window frame becomes a restriction (it's blocking your path and restricting your view) instead of an opening (letting light and air into a room, offering views).

I notice a bench and sit for a while, simply being and enjoying the now. A lightness arises, opening my heart centre. I sit with it, smiling. And then, with a quiet thank you, I get up and begin the walk back.