West Kennet Long Barrow, Avebury

A day with Peter Knight and Sue Wallace-Knight — part 2

After lunch at Avebury Stone Circle, we headed the couple of miles or so to West Kennet. I am partial to a long barrow, having a similarly aged one within a couple of miles of my home in Dorset. They contribute a powerful energy into the land. But I had not been inside one. West Kennet Long Barrow is 100 metres long and the only excavated one, so I was looking forward to experiencing it.

Parking at the lay-by we had a half mile or so walk to the top of the hill. Before heading up, Peter and Sue led a water blessing of the River Kennet (its source begins not far from the little bridge we had to cross). It was a moment to pause and reflect, to watch the passing movement and aliveness through a visited past. All sacred sites are, or would have been, close to water. Peter reminded us that our planet only has a set amount of shared water (also information channelled from my guide, the Spirit of Plato, in my book The Teachings of Mr P.) and that we have to look after it. Whether here in the UK or on the other side of the world, we are sharing the same water. It was a beautiful pause into the continuation of life and respect for our elements.

I loved the long barrow … it’s so, pretty. Strange word for a ‘burial chamber’, I know. The large sarsen stones form a welcoming invitation (Peter shared that the largest ‘blocking’ stone at the entrance came later and is perfectly aligned to Stonehenge, 18 miles away). After Peter requested permission from the barrow for us to enter (which is not just respectful, but creates an altogether different experience and is a practice I also use for trees and all ‘entry points’) I felt into its soft energies. It is ‘deep’ and it is also more. After all the ‘outside’ energy of the stone circles, it felt good — a relief, even — to ‘go in’.

The energies take some adjusting to. The building is circa 5000-6000 years old (constructed approx 3500 BC) with the five chambers being located only in the front section of the barrow (the rest has ‘nothing’ in it) — 2 chambers on each side as you enter and one larger one at the end. Long barrows are considered ceremonial sites of burial and birth and also places our ancestors would come to, to commune with the wisdom of their ancestors. Twenty of us squeezed in, many of us accompanied by our drums. I was immediately drawn to the first chamber on the left by a gentle wise spirit of place: Come and sit here, she said. The energies go down into the Earth by the entrance, I was told, and into ‘the void’ in the furthest chamber. I was shown that the ground beneath is crystal, compacted, and told it is a place of ‘The Sacred Wisdom of the lower levels’: a Liminal Space — not liminal as a happenstance, but a created liminal space — to call the Natural Spirit to protect and fortify the Land. And then she told me to go join the others, in the large chamber.

The Mary Line runs through Avebury Stone Circle, over Silbury Hill, and through the length of West Kennet Long Barrow, we are told. Aligned with the Equinox sunrises, the stones and construction create a channel for the energy. This is a place ‘of the wisdom of the feminine’, which we, as a group, honoured with our prayers, our seeking of guidance, our drumming and gentle singing to the symbolism — which Peter and Sue are showing us still remains today.

I leave pondering, how do we take care of our dead and honour the ancient wisdom? Here is a place where it is possible to connect — to tune in — to the, physical and liminal, space in which many others have sat; contemplating the same questions, seeking the same solutions. A human made structure is a glorious thing … I wonder how many of our ‘buildings’ will survive 5000 years — survive in spirited wisdom, as well as place. And crucially, as part of the landscape and not a blot ‘on’ it. What is the energy, or combination of energies, we must include to create this continuity? Now that’s an interesting thought :)

[Read part 1 of my day with Peter and Sue Knight]

Love,

Delilah

PS. You can read more about Peter and Sue’s work and books at www.stoneseeker.net

Visited: 13 April 2025

Avebury Henge and Stone Circles

A day with Peter Knight and Sue Wallace-Knight — part 1

The first time I visited Avebury was about 8 or 9 years ago. I woke up one morning and suddenly had to go. I hadn’t researched it or been thinking about it, but was almost ‘moved’ by an invisible force into the car. Off I went, to explore. I have no idea why, or what was happening — or, what I ‘missed’. It remained a bit of a mystery. This time, it was an organised affair, led by the extremely knowledgeable and friendly Peter Knight — an authority on ancient landscapes — and Sue Wallace-Knight. And it was wonderful.

My memory can be terrible — so I made notes. Here are just some of the facts Peter imparted to us: Avebury is the largest stone circle in the world, though only about a quarter of the stones remain (the outer circle would originally have consisted of approx 100 stones, plus two inner circles). The stones weigh up to 100 tonnes each, with up to a quarter of each stone below ground. Like humans, the stones also have chakras (energy centres) — with two chakras ‘working’ below ground (I loved this — totally resonates). The stones — consisting of silica, mostly pure quartz which is a conductor — ‘pin’ the energy currents (which circumnavigate the Earth) into the landscape. As do churches. And in the 4000 years or so they have been ‘placed’ here, the stones have only eroded by about 3mm. Oh, and the largest aquifer in Europe is located below Avebury.

Avebury is an enormous site, able to hold many more people in ceremony than Stonehenge (18 miles away) — and very feminine in feel, by comparison. We were shown images in the stones, shapes of heads or animals … why certain stones may have been chosen. I was fascinated to hear from Peter that the stones are placed in pairs — a ‘male’ or yang stone, next to a ‘goddess’ or yin stone. Walking one of the circles, he showed us how they alternate (the masculine are taller and straighter (quite phallic), the feminine more rounded and wider (often with vulva-like indentations). With the moving of the sun at the equinoxes, certain ‘male’ stones cast their shadow into the crevice of a goddess stone, for instance. The balance of energies was the aim, we are told. And it does feel very balanced. Supported by the soft energies of the circular ditch — which would have been pure white chalk and filled with water (ritual sites have ditches on the inside, defensive sites have ditches on the outside) — by sunlight or moonlight, it would have been spectacular.

In previous energy readings I have shared about the Mary and Michael energy lines. At Avebury they not only meet, but it’s the only known place where they run together: for about 500 metres, through the Chapel to two enormous ‘entrance stones’. We dowsed the lines, auras and experienced the energies through the stones. Walking the site, absorbing the words, experiencing the energies … I was immersed in a feminine feeling of ‘receiving’. The old grandmother beech trees with their web of roots spoke such wisdom and I will be returning to Silbury Hill — a circular ‘pyramid’ in the Avebury landscape, constructed at a perfect 30 degrees angle so the sun ‘rolls down it’ at certain times of the year. It is said to be mysteriously solid (no tombs or cavities) but I would like to explore this close up, as, from a distance, I sense ‘something more’. There is just so much to see and experience; we were only touching the surface.

And yet, Avebury is also ‘too much’, I feel. There are so many stones available to connect with, each as powerful as the next — it’s hard to get an energetic bearing. There are some spots to ‘disappear’ and settle in, but I was struck by a feeling of overwhelm, of no distinct direction or ‘full placement’ … the missing stones creating a noisy frequency against the backdrop of a gentler sound. A lost city or civilisation without leadership perhaps? And yet the power from this site will be impacting a far wider spectrum: a node in the Earth’s energies, or perhaps beyond. It is what’s so glorious about it: the sheer scale and wonder at the intricacies of the placements … the astrological and cosmic alignments, the connections to other energetic locations. These are not just stones and nothing is a co-incidence here.

And neither will our visit be. The unfolding mystery continues — and we still had the best to come … we were heading to West Kennet Long Barrow.

[Read part 2 of my day with Peter and Sue Knight]

Love,

Delilah

PS. You can read more about Peter and Sue’s work and books at www.stoneseeker.net

Visited: 13 April 2025

ST NECTAN’S GLEN, Tintagel, Cornwall

It’s not every day you get to stay overnight at a sacred place. Especially one which is also a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) due to its rare plants and habitat. I was fortunate to have two days and two nights in the wonderful St Nectan’s Glen – based, as part of a group, in the retreat centre on site. Outside of opening hours to the public, the area was ours to explore – temporary overnight custodians and participants, it felt, to the magic, the elements and the waterfalls.

To give a taste, from the site’s website:

“Here lies one of the wildest, most unspoilt and beautiful places on Earth, poetic and coloured by legend. These waters are reputed to have healing qualities and are watched over by the spirits of past guardians and friends of the Glen.”

The highlight for most, is the 60 feet St Nectan’s Kieve which appears to emerge from the earth itself. Thundering and cascading, it fills the glen with sound and scent. Not your usual scent; more so, a mist rising through the trees and greenery – the aura of mystery and fairies and the stuff tales are made from. And, not so much a step back in time but across time into another world.

Our accommodation was high amongst the canopy of trees, so it was early the next morning I first visited the source itself. Immediately upon waking, myself and my room-mate threw on some clothes and quietly headed down to the waterfall. We had it to ourselves – the first people of the day to visit, it seemed.

Entering through the shallow ankle-depth waters to the base of the waterfall, I felt an ushered silence. A reverence … a portal … and much more. I asked, to the spirit of the waterfall, for permission to enter. Though not intending to stand under the waterfall itself that morning, we were both compelled to shed layers of clothing and stand before the spray and energy. It was magical … and not as cold as I thought it would be.

I had come for the weekend with an intention of connecting to a new dimension of nature – to experience deeper beauty, perhaps … if I was lucky. I began with opening myself to the ‘spirits of place’ and then one, who was keen to speak, shared a little with me. I had a sense of the glen ‘not wanting too many visitors’, of ‘wanting to be private’, ideally. The spirit of place I connected with reiterated this to me, I felt. A sense of ‘too many, though not all, taking too much from it’. It was doing ‘okay’ I felt, but could not last forever in this way.

I now felt compelled to give back: to offer some harmony and gratitude to it and all it represents – even though I can never understand all that it is. It is so much more than ‘a waterfall’ … but I had a felt sense it could again be ‘all that it is’. If it is protected.

That afternoon, we returned – with two more from our group – and, amongst the day visitors, we offered drumming to the waterfall. Connecting again with the guardian of the waterfall, I silently explained our intention, as I perceived it, and the spirit of our offering. Not to change it, but to offer appreciation to it and its waters which flow downstream into the sea … should it wish it. No need, just an offering. A recognition. Which created a meeting of minds, it felt. Standing there before it, our feet in the water, gently drumming, I felt it echo up into the earth itself – the vibration from our drums met and answered. I felt the acknowledgement in my bones. It was not a portal I could see, but one I could feel in my body and senses, from a dimension who heard our offering.

The waterfall needs appreciation for its subtleness and otherworldly qualities. As was pointed out to me: it is a filter to the seas of the world. And, in the overlap between the land and the air, the water and the energy passing through, it is a gateway of spiritual force. Just because we can’t see it, doesn’t mean the force is not there.

For the final morning, our whole group would meet before sunrise at the waterfall. To perform a ceremony. My intention was to immerse myself fully under the water, to commune with it, but what happened next for me was so much more powerful. In the quiet dawn descent to the waterfall, the sudden group roar and exhalations of the people already in the waterfall echoed through the glen and pierced my heart, mind and energy field. The ceremony was not towards the waters, but of physical release and letting go. Stopped in my tracks, eyes filling with tears, I felt the trauma to the land and its spirit. A split-second vision appeared before me, of an energetic opening into the land. It felt brutal, shocking and wounding – and a painful contrast to the subsequent vibrancy and post-release joy of the group when we reached them. My soul felt horrified; my energy-body shaking, I felt we had betrayed it. All I could now do, in my own small way, was to offer healing to the spirit of the waterfall and land – and apologise for the trauma we, as a collective humanity, unconsciously make. Though not enough, I felt it heard our offering of protection and abundance for it because I heard the sound of drumming echoing back.

The waterfall of St Nectan’s Glen gave me a life-changing experience. I cannot un-see what it showed me. Nor do I want it to. I had asked for a new experience and the waterfall answered. The new dimension of nature I witnessed was not a pretty one, and yet, its vulnerability was beautiful too. Sacred encounters can also be terrifying and shocking – and they can pivot our reality. They can also shake us awake into action.

The quandary I am left with is how we, as a collective humanity, protect our land and its spirit. In one person’s healing, another’s heartbreak is made. As humans, we must let go; but we must do so gently. Because nature is reflective of what we do and who we are. The crystal waters of St Nectan’s Glen – and the care shown to it by its current owners (not related to the group I was with) – are a perfect example of this.

Go quietly, but do go.

It’s more powerful that way.

Love,

Delilah

PS. I have been unsure about writing this energy reading for many reasons, but the glen has provoked an instant need in me to speak out and share what I see, and saw. I feel a sense of protectiveness towards it, and yet, it needs visitors and abundance to maintain it. The people who care for it, do so with such love (it is rare, in my experience, to see signs referring to ‘a sacred place’, for instance – which I think is wonderful. And they encourage quiet attendance). They collect the multitude of tokens, ribbons, photos and mementos left by visitors and move them to the little meditation room (in the sixth century ‘hermitage’) for safe keeping and they are protecting the surrounding landscape by planting trees and more on the adjacent hillsides. We must, must heal ourselves – and we must also help our land to heal. If this post encourages someone – or the next overnight group – to go softly where they might not have previously, then perhaps we can heal and restore more than we realise. Maybe we can see all of nature as the sacred place it is.

Visited: October 24

The MARY and MICHAEL LINES at Lostwithiel, Cornwall

Sometimes energies take us by surprise. Heading to Cornwall this weekend, we were ‘called’ to stop off at Lostwithiel en route: to visit the location where the St Michael and St Mary energy lines intersect. The St Michael Alignment (as the ley lines are also known) is said to stretch across southern England from the far west of Cornwall to the east coast of Norfolk, and on through Europe to the Holy Land. The St Michael ley – the masculine ‘path of the sun’ or ‘dragon line’ – runs through many sacred sites in the UK (such as St Michaels Mount in Cornwall, Glastonbury Tor and Burrow Mump in Somerset – both with churches dedicated to St Michael on their summit) while the St Mary line – the feminine earth line – is believed to meander round rivers and hills. In certain places – such as Lostwithiel – the two intersect.

Lostwithiel is really charming. It definitely has ‘an energy’ – supported by a cluster of cute shops, ancient buildings and a visible sense of community. The flowing River Fowey adds to the vibrancy – and was once integral to this ancient port and administrative capital of Cornwall (the Duchy of Cornwall stills holds offices here). But it was the Church of Saint Bartholomew we were headed to. To visit the font where the two energy currents supposedly cross.

I first felt the energies when visiting the public toilets opposite the church. Standing outside the toilets, facing the church, my body toppled backwards. A sense of a current pushing me. Entering the grounds of the church (from the Fore Street entrance), about half way up the path, I felt the familiar whoosh of energy in my chest which indicates I have crossed an energy line or boundary. And upon entering the church itself, I was immediately pulled to the left where the font is situated. Full body shivers and vibrations – especially when standing on the stone plinth at the base of the font – indicated this as a special place.

We were lucky that the church, whilst very much in use and part of the community, was vacant during our visit. We stood at different angles to the font, allowed our bodies to show us the direction of the flows of energy, and soaked up the higher vibrations – which I could feel filling every cell of my body. The church itself has a lovely feel – though there is no mention of the energy lines reported to run through it. (The surveillance camera and card donation machine by the font would indicate a number of visits – and I was grateful to be able to donate). But more important than the acknowledgement was the fact the font was in use - and so, the energy was ‘live’ and not dormant. Though not religious myself, a feeling of love and continuation settled my senses.

Supposedly the St Michael Alignment runs through sacred places of worship in order to connect divinity to humanity. That’s a rather lovely thought, isn’t it?

If you are heading to Cornwall, I recommend a visit to the font at the Church of St Bartholomew and connection to the divinity running through it. The power may surprise you :)

Love,

Delilah

Visited: 04.10.24

The BRITISH LIBRARY, London

Upon publishing a book, by law one copy of every UK publication (including e-books) must be sent to the British Library within one month of publication. To preserve knowledge and information for future generations and 'maintain the national published archive of the British Isles'. The legal deposit has existed for nearly 400 years and collects publicly available work including, and not limited to: books; pamphlets, posters, leaflets and flyers; maps; sheet music and scores; journals, magazines and newspapers. And, since 2013, ‘Each year, the British Library UK Web Archive collects a ‘snapshot’ of all the UK websites that we can identify. This includes at least four million websites, with several billion files.’ That’s a lot of energy and collected intentions. Over 170 million items. All available, as resource, at the British Library - 96 Euston Road, London NW1 2DB.

As an author of two books - and not having set foot in our nation’s library before - I was keen to visit the institution I had excitedly and dutifully posted a copy of each my books to.

As I walked through the entrance doors, I immediately knew I had to do an energy report. An immediate expansion of heart energy settled me. If I were to choose a ‘chakra’ to describe the British Library, it would be the heart chakra … a powerful sense of the heartfelt love and dedication which has gone into the books and contents this building represents. It felt solid, grounded - surprisingly spacious, yet ‘bottom heavy’. A ‘sinking fund’ came to mind - of knowledge, but not without the challenges this brings. I later learned of the vast underground basements (4 in total - the deepest in the UK) housing and preserving the works and treasures - alongside items stored at the British Library site at Boston Spa in Yorkshire - and this made sense: the perception of a continually descending pit of energy maintained in the walls and fabric of what you see.

Formerly part of the British Museum, the British Library was created in 1973 and moved into the St Pancras building in 1997. Ten million red bricks were used in the construction of the building, though inside, there is a feeling of minimal lightness and vast ceilings, which somehow feels as grounded on the top floor as the ground floor. It doesn’t have an aged patina - more so an ‘invested’ one. Central within the building, in a floor to ceiling glass display, is the King's Library with 65,000 printed volumes along with other pamphlets, manuscripts and maps collected by King George III between 1763 and 1820 … a gilded column of history surrounded by people working on laptops. A colourful silence in the hubbub of no noise. Preferable to a Starbucks, for those in the know about the 150 open working spaces in the public areas.

It was the reading rooms I wanted to visit though, which require a free Reader Pass (bring appropriate ID if you are planning to visit). There are 11 reading rooms in total, including the smallest, the Maps Reading Room (the world’s largest map collection) and the popular ‘Humanities 1’. But before I could head up to the rooms, I had to drop my bag off in the locker room - an experience which only adds to the sense of anticipation. Pen replaced by pencil I was now ready.

Upon entering the rooms, I was struck by the energy. Each one is subtly different; the ‘Asian and African Studies’ has more energetic vibrancy and colour, the ‘Newsroom’ feels more chaotic, for instance. Yet all are uniform, within the same spacial abundance. An ecclesiastical feel, almost. Amongst the quiet hum of the A/C and the rumble of underground trains, there is an awareness of the surrounding city: the wood of the furnishings acting as buffer and connection to the outside world. I was struck by the noticeable quality of workmanship and materials - light wood desks and bookcases, extremely comfortable chairs, beautiful door handles, individual lighting and sockets at each of the 1277 reading room desks. There is an elegance and equality to the provision of reading opportunity - each person has their own ‘station’, of equal worth, to dip into the annals of time where minds can meet across invisible borders into works written and recorded by those who went before, or remain alongside, us. A vast crypt to drink from, to create new contributions from, where in this environment no one book is more valuable than another. There is a sense of presence - of a vacuum and timelessness - and immediacy as heads lower over the pages into the portal of knowledge. With barely any books on display, I sense the connection between person and resource as primary. Noticing my train of thought, my guide channels a message to me: ‘to gather oneself here is to present at the font of time, for knowledge is timeless but the acquiring of it can only happen with the sacredness of text - with experience, presence and engagement of life.’ Tuning in further, I sense more of an ‘akashic records’ energy than a spirit-of-place one. A central well, rather than a guarded space. Which is perhaps reflected in the ransom cyber-attack the British Library suffered in October 2023 (until January 2024 when the main catalogue returned online) - and which it is still recovering from (at a cost of 40% of its financial reserves / £6-7m according to Wikipedia).

The building feels protected and exposed all at the same time. By the nature of accumulated and accumulating knowledge it has to stay ‘open’ while also transcending time. ‘For eternity’ is a tricky stance to handle and with this thought my heart suddenly tightens as I pick up a real sense of fear and constriction in the common areas of the building, as I walk through the marble … a fear of ‘losing the knowledge’ … and I feel a wave of compassion for the custodians of this vast and enormous treasure. It feels like it - and all the people within its operation - need to breathe a little. I saw a tiredness in some of the staff, juxtaposed by people using the space to work from. An institution trying to move with the times, but anchored in the past as it holds the vibration of all (UK) books ever written.

As I left the building, the energy outside felt much freer and lighter. Tuning in to the land beyond the building itself, I could feel the imprint of the once ‘green lands’ underneath … pastureland and the presence of cattle or animals of some sort. Closer to date, I could feel something around ‘petrol’ - that the land had been used for storage of petrol-related items (which seemed ironic, as an imprint for a library). Upon checking, I note record of the site being used as a goods yard, but the imprint of flammable equipment remains strong.

The British Library is a sanctuary. For us, and also for our sacred text, knowledge and culture. It is also, to some extent, ‘forgotten’ yet increasingly needed in this modern world of screens. There, but not there. As a building, it is physically protected, but it is not as energetically boundaried as it could be. And I can understand why. Because ‘the words’ create the energy and intention (of the institution), and not, as with most organisations, the energy creating the words (or product/service). There is an intention to preserve, and so, the energy of ‘the preservation’ echoes within the building - as well as the energy of the words it holds. And so, a gap emerges between the two … comprised of the people who visit. Hence my sense of a ‘portal of knowledge’. The required energetic boundary is of the portal, the place and its contents … and also the unseen knowledge.

It is the kind of church I wish to visit - and certainly worth a visit if you haven’t been. And send it a little loving protection if so inclined. I think it will appreciate it :)

Love,

Delilah

Visited: 20.09.24

The Firebreak, Cerro Verde, Andalucía

I hadn’t planned to do an energy report while in Spain, but the firebreak fascinated me. It was ‘a moment’ - in a ‘gap’ - on top of the world. And how could the destruction of trees feel so magical?

I was in Spain courtesy of my friend Jane Wake who had invited me to teach at her annual retreat at Finca el Cerrillo: a beautiful traditional farmhouse, nestled in the Andalucía Hills. Morning hikes began at dawn, before the heat gathered, and today we were doing ‘the big climb’: the 1200+ metre Cerro Verde in the Sierras de Tejeda, Almijara and Alhama mountains.

I’m a slow walker, which I like. It allows me to take things in, and to observe the energies (or maybe that’s my ego talking as I am overtaken by everyone in the group :)). The scenery was gorgeous, hillsides fizzing in the rising heat as the sun rose to blanket them. Feet climbing, upon a different land; bodies moving like ants up a mountain. And about two thirds of the way up: an expanse…the surprise of a firebreak. A chance to breathe. Like nature, itself.

With nearly 600 wildfires in the Andalusian region in 2023, burning some 1,700 hectares of land, you can see why the need to remove such a vast strip of vegetation and trees. I thought I would pick up energies of devastation, but instead I felt a surge of a different kind. Stripping the land bare creates a gap. A ‘weak spot’ energetically which allows the fire to drop. But this is just one aspect: the intention of the firebreak was super-strong and it is the combination of these energetics which creates the magic. That is how magic works: an intention entering a ‘gap’. And this really did feel quite magical.

The heat from the white ground was radiating and powerful. Tuning in to the intention of it - of the effect and affect of the workers who had created it and of all the locals from the surrounding white villages, for whom this firebreak brings safety and security, a near constant awareness in the background of their minds projected towards it - the benefits feel ongoing. As our path took us up part of it, a real sense of gratitude could be felt - which was beautiful. And where, further down the mountain the vegetation was suffering from drought, here, it was flourishing. I had a sense of the vegetation and nature being grateful for the firebreak…that it understood that part of itself had to be removed, to safeguard it; and a feeling of symbiotic and flourishing co-existence between people and the natural world.

In a world increasingly affected by wild fires, I now have a new perspective: that despite - and because of - the destruction, connection and a deeper understanding and engagement with the natural world can happen. It doesn’t have to look pretty to be powerful and real and alive. We can enable the magic; and usually, it starts with gratitude. From both sides.

A firebreak is a beautiful thing.

Love,

Delilah

Visited: 07.07.24

BURROW MUMP, Somerset

“Let’s head back via Burrow Mump,” he said. “It’s quite special.”

And he was right.

What a glorious mound (mound seems more appropriate than ‘hill’) of earth and energies! Maintained by the National Trust (and a herd of friendly sheep), it has an outwardly gentle and surprisingly magnetic feel. Wonderfully healthy trees and their low-lying canopies entice us up the short climb to the peak where I instantly felt the aura and ‘forcefield’. The ruins of the 18th-century church of St Michael (built on the site of a medieval church) are interesting and ‘friendly’ - though not where my focus is drawn. “There’s something at the centre of this mound,” I say. Confirmed by guidance from my channel, it was the land beneath which was, for me, of main interest:

‘What we would say, my dear, is a building like this is not in alignment with the reason for the mound. It is the mound which holds the power. The mound has esoteric properties and, as you can see, enables vision beyond worlds. The building is an homage to the passing times.’

Circling the ruins and feeling into the energy pulls, I get out my compass. As suspected, the building is perfectly aligned North to South, East to West and energetically ‘gridded’ in its four corners. But it’s the centre point - the ‘cross point’ of the entrances within the nave that I’m drawn to, where not only does the ground significantly dip, but the energies converge - or emerge. Standing upon it, I have a feeling similar to a lift shaft beneath me, descending to the centre of ‘somewhere’…a gate, maybe…and a sense of the underworlds. A sense, too, of significance of the sun, moon, stars and constellations - of a decommissioned portal to other realms, or, as my companion said: an axis mundi (according to Merriam-Webster: world axis : line or stem through the earth's center connecting its surface to the underworld and the heavens and around which the universe revolves).

Supposedly, the St Michael energy line runs through Barrow Mump, and the 360 degree far-reaching views include Glastonbury Tor in the distance, though this feels of less significance to me. I sensed an energetic ‘dome’ over the mound; that it had been ‘created by men and maintained by women’ - a passing on (not ‘down’) of custodian and was a place of ‘visioning’ and information gathering. Druid or Pagan, or older even, perhaps. And a feeling of energies not dissimilar to those experienced at crop circles. I connected with the spirit of place, but was encouraged by my guidance to focus on the place of the spirit, rather than the spirit of place. Which made sense. The energies of this mound and axis hold a lot of people and land: a forcefield surrounding and emanating from it…capable of holding even more, I sensed. And, as a result, a feeling of welcome and lightness - symbolised by the fast fluttering of butterflies which kept landing and settling upon us at the ‘cross point’. Butterflies signify transformation and spiritual growth. Burrow Mump certainly feels like a gateway to this and more.

If you are ‘heading that way’, I recommend a visit :)

Love,

Delilah

Visited: 14.07.24

The Garden at Buckingham Palace

‘The land is magnificent and calming, you will find - a treasure trove of delightful gems and gifts from around the world,’ said my guide on the morning of our visit. With a growing fascination of the energetics and non-physical influence of our Head of State, Monarchy and ‘Crown Estate’ - the unavoidable energy lines and dynamics they create, and have created, within our land and world - I was eager for our visit. Energies stem from here - a global pinpoint. I was my son’s plus-one however, accompanying him (I didn’t leave him much option, but to choose me :)) to one of the many garden parties and celebrations held within London’s largest private garden. So restraint was the order of the day: shoes had to stay on and I was on my best and most attentive behaviour. But energetically, I was noticing a lot.

With the invitation extending to a generous three hours, there was plenty of time to explore the grounds. My initial impression, was that it had no ‘centre’ energetically - that the boundary walls and lawns were the most powerful aspects - and the gardens, secondary. It felt quite ‘flat’ energetically - horizontal and quite ‘surface’. Not multi-dimensional. There are areas of significant beauty, but not much energetic depth - which I found surprising, and also logical - and I noticed an absence of ‘magic’ which is often found in special gardens of note (Kew Gardens comes to mind, and the Isabella Plantation in Richmond Park). It feels that the custodian is absent and there’s a division of work and roles so that it is ‘maintained’…but not invested in. It didn’t feel personal or ‘private’ - which is unsurprising - though some areas were out of bounds.

The lawns are magnificent - the ‘centre piece’ - and the blend of natural wildness beautifully softens and invites what would otherwise be a hard landscape; but something is missing energetically, I sense. There is a noticeable lack of ‘nature elementals’ which, if cajoled and invited in, would clear some of the stagnant energies in the lake and create a depth into the gardens. And yet, ‘one is not meant to loiter’…so the energy serves its purpose as more of a ‘business affair’. A consciousness of cost and spend - of accountability - felt palpable. The place ‘had to work’.

I get the sense that despite the considerable cost it must take to maintain - hedges, lawns, borders, pathways, trees - it is ‘done on a budget’; that the money and attention goes into ‘what you don’t see’ in the necessary maintenance and appearance, as opposed to the unseen magical and mystical attraction of an enchanting garden. As a result, I feel the gardens of Buckingham Palace are missing a trick. I would have loved to have experienced its ‘spirit of place’, but given the numbers visiting that day, it was no doubt hiding :)

Though vast at 39 acres, the Buckingham Palace Gardens felt smaller on the inside, compared to having walked the perimeter boundary on the outside. The wall feels strong, secure - the vital and necessary equal component to what lives within it. But it is also encroached, which would indicate it is not quite ‘in its power’. The noise of the surrounding traffic felt a little heavy, rather than distant, and the erection of multi-storey buildings overlooking the gardens, while few, were questionable: an absence of power has enabled this permission to be granted. And whilst the gardens host up to 24,000 visitors a year, its inclusivity and welcome feels compromised by a subtle giving away of power elsewhere. In a wish to be all things, we can lose our sparkle - as much for a garden as ourselves.

What entrances, are the specimens of trees and planting. Glorious trees - over 1000, including 85 species of oak - running borders and deliciously exquisite roses. A beautiful and considered ‘quality’ of planting and wildlife. Nature can be ‘for show’ and also touchingly beautiful, it seems.

I found our visit fascinating, informative and welcoming. There is an art to greeting guests, and this little enclave of world influence (and dominance over the centuries) is finding its new feet, I feel. The imposing building which sits in its ground needs inhabiting…energetically Buckingham Palace feels vacant. It needs some love and it needs some magic - and could be a perfect example of transformation. After all, that is what, through the activities held within these grounds, is supported and celebrated in others.

Love,

Delilah

Visited: 13.05.24

PROVAND’s LORDSHIP: The Oldest House in Glasgow

It’s interesting, my recent draw to Scotland. Time will tell, as to why…and ‘time’ is the context of this energy report on a spontaneous visit to the oldest house in Glasgow.

We had 24 hours in the city, to ease out our bodies and ease in our minds after walking the West Highland Way. A slow aimless amble took us, randomly, to the Glasgow Necropolis on a hill overlooking the city. A Victorian cemetery: it is the final resting place of fifty thousand individuals, represented by approximately 3,500 monuments - and is strangely fascinating and odd. Adjacent, is Glasgow Cathedral: an impressive Gothic building with an interesting past. Construction began in 1136 and took about 350 years to finish. It has been both Catholic and Protestant, surviving the Protestant Reformation of 1560 virtually intact. Technically beautiful, I found it an unsettling energy and didn’t loiter.

But over the road was an altogether different experience: Provand's Lordship, the oldest house in Glasgow - which has recently reopened after a £1.6 million repair and improvement programme. Provand's Lordship was built in 1471 and is one of only four surviving medieval buildings in Glasgow. And best of all: it has an amazing energy :)

Ducking my head to enter the building, I am reminded of my home in Dorset. It has a familiarity inside, but its more so the feel of the place. The energy is clear, yet layered into a rich history. Initially built as the manse of the Master of the Chapel and Hospital St Nicholas, it has also been: a notable domestic home - with rumours of a visit by Mary, Queen of Scots; housed a pub on the ground floor known as ‘The Old Castle Tavern’; and has been home to spirit dealers, bell hangers, gas fitters, milliners, hairdressers, green grocers, tobacconists and confectioners. It gains its name from being the residence of the Canon of Provan (a district in East Glasgow) who held the title of Lord Provan. Rescued by a group of Glasgow citizens, they raised the money to purchase the property, leading to its restoration today.

But what awed me was the energetic balance to it: every room, of equally lovely energy…no dark corners. It was a balance I recognised and it wasn’t long before I encountered the spirit of place (this level of care and love could not have happened, I believe, without an active and engaged spirit of place). Entering the back room on the first floor - which I felt was once a kitchen - I am drawn to a powerful presence in the corner. Calling my friend over: she could feel it too. It felt wonderful: giving and full of richness. When I returned to the same area a few minutes later, it had moved…confirmation to me, of a resident energetic custodian (other entities in properties have a different feel, in my experience). And then I connected again with it. Male in energy (and whom, I’m later told by my spiritual guide, was a former occupant) his care and enthusiasm, is tangible: ‘Tell people about it,’ he said to me. ‘We welcome visitors,’ he emphasised.

If you are in Glasgow with a spare half hour or so, go! It is a wonderful restoration - an example to us all - with a kindness and wealth to it. A token to the past which sits energetically in the present. A bit like Glasgow, really.

I loved it.

Love Delilah

Visited: 22.04.24

The WEST HIGHLAND WAY, Scotland

‘What on earth possessed us to do this?’ she asked, watching me navigate the slippery rocks of a waterfall-drenched path. It was day three of our pilgrimage and after a challenging ten miles in the rain (with another four to go) Sara was beginning to lose her sense of humour. Her walking poles were supporting her more than her spirit by this point, it seemed …though both were necessary for the physically challenging and mentally tiring terrain along the shores of Loch Lomond. (At one point the path disappeared into the overflowing loch). But we kept going, and after nine hours of mostly ascents and descents (or so it seemed) we made it to our destination - ankles and ligaments soaking, aching, but thankfully intact - and, seven minutes late for the hourly ferry crossing to our hotel for the night. But physical tiredness can be a beautiful thing, especially when there’s no-where to go. So we sat quietly on the jetty as the rain stopped and a late afternoon sun appeared. A moment of pure bliss, alone, surrounded by nature. Over the stillness of the loch we passed each other a wee dram (purchased during our Glengoyne Distillery visit on day one - every good walk should pass by a whisky distillery :)) and ate the remains of our packed lunch. A Mars bar has never tasted so good :)

The West Highland Way is a ninety-six-mile walking trail through the Scottish Highlands. The route - which begins in Milngavie and finishes in Fort William - was created in 1980 and is completed by over 40,000 people a year. Broken down into sections (due to the remoteness and limited availability of accommodation, unless camping), it is usually undertaken over a period of between five and eight days. Reaching elevations of over 500 metres, and comprised of rocky, uneven and hilly terrain, the walk requires a certain level of fitness.

We were fortunate with the weather: just three days of rain (which is plenty when you realise your waterproofs are no longer waterproof!) and some days of sunshine. We chose April to avoid the midges, which are notorious in Scotland. And equipment-wise, we were prepared. But this is just one part of the preparation: our souls were ready, too. Having walked part of the Camino de Santiago in 2019, we intended to make this a pilgrimage. We knew it would change us - somehow, in some way. And I was fascinated to experience the energies of a ‘man-made’ route through the wildness of the untamed Highlands.

‘The Way’ is both expansive and detailed, and somewhere within all this, we are invited to walk. I love a sign-posted walk - where I don’t have to think or have a map in my hand, and in this respect the West Highland Way created the perfect backdrop. From snow-covered peaks (referred to as a Beinn, or hill, but energetically more like mountains) to the hundreds of over-flowing and spontaneous waterfalls (given the recent heavy rains) the path led us through a visual and musical soundscape. From simple trails through moss and lichen-covered forest floors (and I mean covered) to sudden views across vast glens and mountain ranges - our senses were filled to the maximum. (Each day felt like we had lived two or more day’s worth of experiences). A lot of thought and care has gone into the route - it’s a tangible feeling which never subsided the whole distance - with minimal, if any, impact to the glorious landscape. Signs (beautifully made and maintained) were kept to a minimum and over the ninety-six miles walked I only saw one item of rubbish: an aluminium can which had blown out of arm’s reach by the wind. ‘Wild and cared for’ …it’s what our planet needs, isn’t it? The accommodation was a mixture of B+B’s, guest houses and hotels - and the local food felt wholesome (wild venison for dinner and freshly caught trout for breakfast were stand-outs - though thankfully I took my own coffee). Scotland has an energetic simplicity - raw, strong and brave - reflected in the honesty of its people and landscape. I found it entrancing and grounding, and it, in turn, gave me the necessary energy and stamina.

The route, which despite beginning in the outskirts of Glasgow quickly drops into woodland and nature, builds and expands as it goes. It also follows the line of the Highlands Boundary Fault until Loch Lomond. It was interesting, energetically, to move between the Lowlands and Highlands (the Glengoyne Distillery is located on the road which separates the two geological plates, with part of their property in the Lowlands and part in the Highlands) - and to feel the difference as, over the days, we climbed into the highland depths of what had previously been a distant view ahead of us. The energies of the land varied: in parts magical and awe-inspiring and in other places more ‘basic’ energetically. Special moments included vividly bright rainbows illuminating hills we were about to climb, placing stones we had previously collected upon surprise hilltop cairns, and moments of synchronicity and near-instant manifestation which reminded me of being within the energy vortexes of Sedona. The water was crystal clear and at the higher altitudes the air had a purity of energy which felt like it emanated from within the mountains themselves. Walking the glorious Craw Knowe peak in sunshine on the fourth day…and we were almost touching the clouds. The mountains felt so light…floating, almost, between the heavens and Earth. The range of Craw Knowe felt feminine and soft…almost delicate, and later mountains (such as Buachaille Etive Mor and Ben Nevis) more ‘masculine’ in energy. But despite their strength and landmass I could detect what my spiritual guide, on day six, invited me to notice: ‘This is a special part of the land,’ he said. ‘Notice the sway of the land and how you feel within it.’ I had the distinct sense of the mountain peaks moving through space - that, whilst as solid as a mountain range can be, it was also agile.

‘It reminds me of America,’ I kept saying, aloud and to myself. The vastness, yes, but it was more than that. I could not shake the feeling that I was on American soil. Sharing this with one of our fellow travellers - a lovely man called Steve, who’s pace and humour dropped into ours at different parts of the Way - he reminded me that many eons ago - 60 million years, apparently - Scotland was joined to America and Greenland and was once part of the Appalachian Mountain Range. The sense of this - from the still virgin and untouched land - was omnipresent and powerful. And fascinating…as in, how can that be, these millions of years later?

Our crossing of Rannoch Moor was in the rain and low clouds. Denied the view and buffeted by a harsh wind, I focused on the energies around my feet, noticing it felt both masculine and feminine - a magical and magnetic blend which I was still able to absorb despite the relentless conditions. My sense is that invisible worlds live on this moor and within its interaction with the surrounding hills and glens. But Scotland is a gamble weather-wise, so you never know what you will get to enjoy view and experience-wise. So, onwards…northwards…(a surprising and tangible feeling of ‘walking north’) and after a wet and exposed ten miles, we were rewarded with a night in the gloriously located Kingshouse Hotel - and that’s when the pilgrimage pivoted for me. I, we, had at some point entered an energetic portal.

It was at breakfast (after feasting on a huge dinner - it’s amazing how hungry you get walking so many miles!) that we could see the breath-taking views…and when the rainbow of all rainbows appeared. Right in front of us, covering the whole glen we were about to walk. ‘This area is a portal,’ said my guide. Something in me knew that I would not remain the same from this point on. I wanted to stay and soak up the energy, and also, I wanted to go and head into it. We had the ‘Devil’s Staircase’ to climb that morning, but it was the combined energy of the curved valley and landscape joining the imprint of the rainbow above which had my attention. Something special had occurred.

And yet, the path continued to call me. Backpacks on…

There is an art to walking in the great outdoors, which, no matter how many times we do it, cannot be mastered. That’s its beauty…what makes us its student to the awe and majesty. To the fragility of our perception within the multitude of outcomes and moments to gaze upon. To the interaction of the weather, our bodies, the landscape…all moving and breathing together. Creating the path as it unfolds.

There is also a beauty to walking into the unknown. Into a single direction. A forgiveness which happens, as step leads to step. As the ground below us - the only known thing, when in the remoteness of unknown land - urges us forward. After a while, as the once familiar blends into the background, a sacredness arises. We walk out of ourselves and enter a liminal space: a portal of a delicious and invisible mix containing the essence of trust and the magical. Something otherworldly, carried in our steps, as we are carried into it. We are met by a fullness, which always was…and asks nothing of us. Just…nothing. As we are. Step after step, through the discomfort and because of the step,..and a lightness arises, no matter how tired and weary our body might be. This can also be the moment when we hit an invisible inner wall - if there’s a wall to be dissolved. This is what a pilgrimage does to us. It takes us to the sacred within. It keeps us on the path.

There is so much I could write about our time on the West Highland Way - and much, I sense, yet to unfold now I am back. It took me to new limits, environmentally and physically. I am home, but the ‘me’ who has returned is not the same. She is more confident and capable. More humble, and more subtle. Like the landscape maybe. I’m not sure how she will fit in…what I will discover.

And that’s the point of a pilgrimage, isn’t it?

It seems a ‘man-made’ path has made a better human out of me.

Love Delilah

PS. Some things to consider when booking a pilgrimage:

• Traditionally, pilgrimages are made to a sacred or religious place, as an act of worship. They may evolve naturally and organically, and are often hundreds of years old (the Camino de Santiago is over 1000 years old, for instance). I also like to think of each day as a pilgrimage or journeying between the seen and unseen.

• Be clear on your personal intention. No matter how many are in - or join - your group, it is a solitary journey.

• Choose your walking companion/s wisely. It’s less so about what you have in common…it’s your walking pace and personal habits which matter most. (We were cheerily overtaken every morning by a man in his 70’s who finished hours before us). Walking speeds really do vary, especially over longer distances. Kindness and compassion, and a healthy dose of self-awareness and detachment, count during physically or emotionally challenging conditions.

• A sense of humour is vital. If you can’t laugh at least half the way, don’t go. Be willing to pause, walk in silence, observe what you’ve never noticed and learn. Untie yourself from what you know.

• Be respectful of your limitations - I would not attempt to camp, for instance. A pilgrimage is about going to the edge of your discomfort - not beyond it. The goodness lies in the subtlety, and can be easily missed. It is not a competition or a race. I ate something before I was hungry, drank before I was thirsty, and slept before I was tired.

• Invest in the best boots and socks your money can buy (I was professionally fitted for both). And wear them in! Walk uneven ground and inclines before you go. Strengthen your ankles. Walk long distances. Prepare your posture…the smallest change to your equipment or backpack can affect the fascia of your body (and therefore create blisters). Quite a few hikers had to drop out whilst we were walking…knee injuries, blisters, etc.

• A pilgrimage is emotional, mental and energetic as much as it is physical. Remember this. The spiritual comes last, somehow. (I know, not what I would say…but you get my drift).

• If walking in mountainous or uneven terrain: take collapsible walking poles…I know, not a good look, but essential, I’m afraid :) (Choose a rucksack with loops for the poles - and plenty of dry-bags). Good nourishing face cream is essential at altitude and in harsh weather (I caught the sun in an overcast April, even through factor 50). And at the slightest hint of a potential blister, tape your feet with Kinesiology Tape - it's a miracle product and life saver! (yep, no blisters)

• Finally, leave no trace; just love.

• …and pass the love on.

(BIG thank you to my friend Sara for being an amazing - and patient - walking companion. Your wit and grace were a joy :))

Walked: 12.04.24 - 21.04.24

Distance travelled: 103.6 miles (official route is 96 miles), or 261,548 steps.

Booked through MACS Adventure.

Overnight locations:

Milngavie, Drymen, Rowardennan, Ardlui, Tyndrum, Bridge of Orchy, Kingshouse/Glencoe, Kinlochleven, Fort William.

PPS. The photos - of which I have so many! - do not do the views or energy justice. I have posted a few more on Instagram - but the only way to really experience it is to go :)

ROSSLYN CHAPEL, Roslin, Scotland

Between Christmas and New Year I spent 3 nights hanging out with my brother in Edinburgh - my first time in the city, though not his. I loved it :) My intention was to report back on my experience of Arthur’s Seat, but given we climbed the ancient volcano’s 251 metres (above sea level) in Storm Gerrit - and was nearly blown off my feet - I found it difficult to tune into the energies of it. I did, between the gusts, pick up some crossing energy lines at the top, but decided to leave a report on Arthur’s Seat to another day. The energy and atmosphere of it set me up beautifully though for our trip the next day, 7 miles south of Edinburgh to Roslin Glen and the infamous Rosslyn Chapel (you may remember it as a location in the Dan Brown film ‘The Da Vinci Code’). Now, I could focus…

The chapel is beautiful. Tastefully ornate, mesmerising and quite perfect in its own way. Walking the exterior there is so much to see…and I am also drawn inside - it is as beautiful outside, as in…balanced, upon itself. The history lingers in the air of the well-kept gardens and I notice an energetic light surrounding and beaming on and from the chapel’s exterior. I recognise that it is surrounded by angels and angelic realms. Its aura contains more than this though. ‘Hidden monastery’ and ‘something underground’ are words which come to me. Something is going on here.

Entering through a definitive entrance (always a delight to feel a threshold and the quickening of heart this can bring) and the energetic - and emotional, I want to say - warmth opens my aura. It’s beautiful…complete with stone motifs and engravings in every corner and possible place. (Photography is not permitted, or I would be including these images). Founded in 1446, the chapel took over 40 years to build, still incomplete when its founder, Sir William St Clair, died in 1484. The array of stone symbols within the chapel portray a vast range of subjects, from Biblical tales to Pagan symbolism, with Rosslyn renowned for having over 100 carvings of the Green Man. The chapel displays its gems well with useful descriptions: ‘…also known as Foliate Heads, Green Men have been around since pagan times, often appearing in Christian Church architecture, believing to represent the unity between humankind and nature and as a symbol of fertility: the male counterpart to Mother Earth.’ The carvings of the Seven Deadly Sins and Seven Acts of Mercy are reminders of the inherent timelessness of the chapel, but the carving which amused (and reassured) me the most was the King Darius Lintel ‘Forte est vinu. Fortior est rex. Fortiores sunt mulieres: sup om vincit veritas’, which translates as: ‘Wine is strong. The king is stronger. Women are stronger still: but truth conquers all.’

Motifs of flowers blanket the ceiling: carved daisies, lilies, roses, simple flowers and stars show the chapel’s theme of nature whilst also carrying layers of meaning. Lillies and roses are identified with the Virgin Mary apparently, and it’s the feminine energy of the chapel which grabs my attention, contrasted with the more male energies of the Crypt. In the Lady Chapel, amongst a feeling of ‘women are the link to the Earth’ I notice the smell of roses. Perhaps, someone’s perfume, another visitor…but I’m not so sure. (I have smelt it once since, whilst alone and with no reason for the scent of roses. Both times, the scent grabbed my attention and sense of inquiry).

Moving down into the Crypt (where most of the filming took place in The Da Vinci Code) and the energy shifts. ‘A misuse of power’ comes to mind. One after another, scenes present themselves in my mind: spilt red wine and a table…kneeling men, robed, heads covered and bowed before the altar. Benedictine monks…A burial chamber…the darkness hid more than secrets…the visiting of the newly deceased: an opportunity to exchange vital knowledge, to pass notes and whisper information. A transfer of activity…an ‘information chamber’. The atmosphere is visceral and telling, and still...mysterious. But whatever happened in this room: ‘the crypt misses the point’, I sense.

Leaving the chapel, my sense is it continues to give healing of some sort - a ley-line between realms - and this intention secures its place within a grander reality. It is a visit which has remained with me…a story still unfolding.

Love

Delilah

Visited: 29.12.23

PS. Rosslyn Chapel (and nearby Rosslyn Castle, not open to the public) sit within the landscape of Roslin Glen Country Park, which is also well worth visiting. From the late 18th century onwards, many writers and artists, such as William Wordsworth and Robert Burns, reputedly visited the glen for inspiration. We walked down into the valley, to the River North Esk - an area of magical influences and alive with history. We roamed through the abandoned Gunpowder Mill, past rock faces carved 3000 years ago during the Bronze Age with ‘cup and ring marks’ and through energies which resounded still, in the silence. Our favourite part was stumbling across the disused railway line and station platform (Roslin Castle Station), now the Penicuik-Dalkeith walkway which follows the Edinburgh to Peebles disused railway. I felt like I was in a scene from The Railway Children :)

DURDLE DOOR, Dorset

The light at Durdle Door took me by surprise. Which I find fascinating as I have visited numerous times, it being a local beach of mine in Dorset: twice, at dawn on Christmas Day to watch the sunrise with friends; many a walk before or after Sunday lunch; swimming with my dog in my twenties, for cold water swims in more recent years; with my son, on numerous occasions with friends and family - including when two of us scrambled up to its summit…before this became inaccessible due to erosion.  My preference has usually been for the adjacent Man o’War cove in summer…it is ‘deep’ enough energetically to absorb summer into its crevices and hidden lines, and has a feminine beauty, I find. But on this winters’ afternoon, it was Durdle Door which was in its mastery of light. There was something about the energy as it hit the cliffs and pebbles on the beach. I was entranced…I was seeing it for a first time - the incoming beams felt like they were coming from further away, more translucent and ‘higher’ in coding and vibration. The phrase which came to mind was, ‘it was setting its own scene’ but it was something more than that - something ‘underneath’ the view which on this day in particular, felt special.

A second afternoon of pure sunshine called me back the next day. I needed to know more. Channelling angelic realms raises our vibration; being in the energy of the light does also. A morning of channelling and an afternoon peeking into what I can only describe as another dimension certainly took things up a level.

I have begun a new project - which means new ‘training’ by my spirit team. Both days, as I was pulled to sit on the shingle beach, I was probed to observe what I noticed. On the second, a drone went overhead and it reminded me of a similar intrusion when visiting a crop circle last year. ‘This has a similar frequency to a crop circle’, I said to myself. I was then nudged to record it for an energy reading (why had I never thought of doing one of this historic landmark before?) at which point I entered a different frequency.

Durdle Door is part of the Jurassic Coast World Heritage Site, located on the Lulworth Estate in south Dorset. The coastline is of international geological importance and was designated England’s first natural World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 2001. It is also a part of the South West Coastal Path (a 630-mile hiking trail around the coastline of England’s south west peninsula). An iconic landmark, it has featured in many music videos and films - including a popular Bollywood one a couple of years ago which has resulted in drones of visitors (exclude the pun…and the reason why I now mostly stay away during the summer months). The beach also hit the headlines during the lifting of the first pandemic lockdown when it (and the local area) was inundated and trashed by tourists. This got me thinking…when we became able to travel after lockdown, why did so many people immediately head here?

Research spiritual places in Britain, and you are not likely to find Durdle Door among the list. But on this quiet mid-week day, with just a couple of other people on the beach, a spiritual dimension revealed itself to me. As I observed and asked permission, it let me in.

Wherever the lip of the land meets the sea, a mystical doorway presents itself. Attuning to the beach and the ‘touch’ of the water, the area began to literally vibrate with light. I noticed a silence I had never heard before: full, pregnant with power - a silence, implicit within the light - which reminded me of the beautiful stillness of a cemetery after a funeral. Constantly moving and ‘here’, my attention roamed: from the cloudless sky, host to the incoming energy rays; to the golden reflection of the beach; to the thundering presence of the cliffs behind me - themselves fragile to their ever present erosion to the beach below. Energies from above, behind, in front rolling and falling into this prehistoric and powerful spot on Earth.

Mostly my eyes were magnetised to the water beneath the arch: with hardly a breeze in the air, it had a voluptuousness and slowness. A depth and ease with itself. Rolling and moving; almost caressing itself.  A settling sun creating a range of golden blues under the arch of the Door, the sea alive…an equal participant to the moment.

Each time I closed my eyes and reopened them, the sea become bluer and the feelings expanded and intensified. I didn’t know ‘what’ to record for the energy reading; from the dinosaurs to shipwrecks, maybe this was enough. Then, I closed my eyes and meditated. Not for long, but as I opened my eyes and softened my vision, a bright pink aura surrounding the protrusion of Durdle Door and its arch below revealed itself to me. I shook my head, it went. I closed my eyes and again, opening and softening my gaze, it appeared. Now, I couldn’t un-see it. I looked to the surrounding cliff edges and rock-sides but it was only present around Durdle Door. A vibrant soft cerise hugging the outline of its surface, mirroring the intensity of the surrounding blue sky and seas.

I have only visually seen auras a couple of times - both times in a specific woodland, not far from the coast. I sense and feel energies in people and places, visible to my inner eye, but never in this way. If I needed a sign that this was an area of spiritual importance, I had been given it. A transcendent moment of unequal beauty.

Taking my leave before the sun dropped too low, (it is a steep climb back up the cliff, and descent over to Lulworth Cove where I was parked) I reluctantly said goodbye to the noticeably ‘clean’ aura of ‘the Door’ before twilight, to the pink and rainbow colours, like oil, tumbling in the water under the arch, and to the beauty of my magical encounter. With so many visitors (now 3 million a year), a beach in constant demand and the changing seasons and patterns, future encounters with the divine at Durdle Door cannot be guaranteed. And yet…could this be a place only just awakening to its beauty? Does ‘the Door’ attract the visitors or do the visitors, in their appreciation, bring a divinity to it? Somewhere between the two, between the elements and the worlds, lies a portal - an avenue to one’s soul and spirit. This, I know for sure :)

Now back in London, I keep reflecting. My ‘spirit team’ nudge me to reflect on the light here - it also being a beautiful day of clear cold sunshine. It is harder for the light to land in the city, I feel - too much human activity which keeps it suspended, outside the bubble. My experience has shown me it’s a co-creation (maybe that’s why the yogis start the day with a sun-salutation) - we have to call in the light…connect with it. Like we might when we sit on a park bench and turn our face to it. Otherwise it is just ‘there’, hovering…an unused dynamic of potential. I reflect upon nature, how it turns to the light; how it signals to it. If we work ‘with’ the light, perhaps we could, as a society, also work more masterfully and mindfully with the shadow and dark? It is food for thought: a little more care needed with city living, a little more appreciation when it can land so powerfully.

After 25 years, Durdle Door has become an enigma to me. Maybe it was my time and we all get our time. Definitely, it was right before my eyes :)

Love Delilah

Visited: 09.01.24 + 10.01.24

If you are considering visiting Durdle Door, please bear in mind it involves a steep (slippery when wet) descent and climb back up, including steps (and a longer walk over the hill if coming from Lulworth Cove). Parking is fairly limited and there are no facilities of any kind on the beaches or the descent to them, including no toilets. Please take all rubbish home with you and leave no trace.

(see Instagram post for additional images to be posted soon)

WEST HAM UNITED FC at The LONDON STADIUM

It was only a matter of time before I would go to a WEST HAM UNITED football game. In fact, my first ever football match; booked as a family outing this December. I am from a tribe of Hammers supporters: a ‘true’ Londoner, born within a mile or so of the original Boleyn Ground, WEST HAM FC’s former home at Upton Park. Since 2016 they have been located at the LONDON STADIUM, constructed in nearby Stratford for the 2012 Olympics. But it’s not their spiritual home. That was demolished.

My cousin, upon hearing of our trip, requested I do an energy report. A little tricky in a stadium of 60,000 notorious supporters: wandering around with dowsing rods and a pendulum might not be my most enlightened move on match day :) But still, so much to observe energetically. It was fascinating. And really fun. I became a fan.

“Go…you might find yourself a boyfriend,” one of my friends said helpfully :). Indeed, there were a lot of men. And not what I expected. Growing up and visiting my aunt in East Ham as a child, I vividly remember the throngs of men marching through the narrow roads to the old grounds on match day. My dad used to take my brothers, but not me. For an energetically sensitive young girl (not that I knew I was sensitive then), it felt omnipresent and dangerous: a flood of male energy feeding the beating heart of the area. ‘The Hammers’ and ‘The Irons’ are nicknames for the club, both related to the original name which was ‘Thames Ironworks FC’, founded on the club’s Thames-side industrial past. I’m sure women went to the matches also, but it all felt very ‘male’. My experience of the LONDON STADIUM, by contrast, didn’t. At best ‘energetically neutral’ - which is testimony to the inclusiveness of a stadium built for all genders, abilities and nations to attend. But something, in the name of progress, has been lost. West Ham United has become, dare I say it, gentrified.

Our match was between WEST HAM and WOLVERHAMPTON. We won 3-0, our spirits elevated along with the crowd and the seating (there are no bad seats in the London Stadium, which creates a balance and sense of equality). The away fans (in one small corner) created the vocal impetus for responding waves of ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’ and chanting, the energy flowing around the green pitch. I felt a cameraderie and kindness amongst the supporters: a common respect and inclusiveness of their own, aside from what was happening on the pitch. Energy circles within energy circles - at many levels. And unlike the stories of old (and somewhat disappointingly :)) no bad language or fights.

Observing the flows, I noticed the arena did not feel grounded - a bit floaty, which makes for a lightness though. It prompted questioning (I always like to find out the data after my observations) and I understand why: WEST HAM FC does not own the location or have exclusive use - in 2013 it secured a 99 year lease. Despite the agreement to reside there, and signage and memorabilia and parts of the old football club having been transferred, the grounds are not consecrated for their use. Like with us as individuals - and increasingly in the world - they cannot root themselves. Progress demands flexibility.

In the summer, UK Athletics move in. The lower seating is removed and the arena is returned to track and athletics ((UK Athletics have a 50 year lease). Commercial events - such as music concerts - are hosted out of season (with increased capacity to 80,000). The ‘venue’ is run as an enterprise. Like a well-kept hotel, this keeps the energy clean and the eye on the financial ball, to excuse the pun. But for the intention of the venue (and the energetic intention ‘held’ within its construction) the pitch isn’t the focus. Until match day.

Observing 60,000 people, of all ages and genders, observing the game was fascinating. Ninety minutes of presence and focus. Eyes focused to the players and a ball - watching it cut and flow through the air (which helps keep the energetics clear). We can find ourselves rarely looking-up, through the ether. There was something otherwordly about the experience in this great stadium: built as a legacy, with vision in mind. I could feel that for many it was a sacred experience - their church; their place in the world, even if they had been moved. And this humbled me. For one day, it was our family’s little church too - a way of remembering our dad; and for the younger members, of integrating their grandad and previous generations into today.

The ease of movement within and around the venue was impressive (and equally easier, I noticed, for fans to get up and leave their seats early - for a drink or the journey home). Located adjacent to the WESTFIELD shopping centre at Stratford and benefitting from numerous transport links, restaurant and cultural options (the new V&A museum opens in 2024), the stadium seats seemed to just fill themselves. No bottlenecks or queues, no bumping or jostling. And unlike the old club at Upton Park, everyone just seemed to disappear afterwards: absorbed into the purpose-built fabric of life. The match was done.

My take-home from WEST HAM United FC is: change has happened. We already live in the new world, energetically - and maybe the staunchest of characters are more flexible than we realise. A match in 2023 is worlds away from what it was just twenty or more years ago. And yet, energy must be preserved, too. Because from grass roots, dreams are built. A thread can continue, if it is nurtured and included - must be part of the discussions and contracts going forward (now that would be a fun consultancy job :)). Football may not be your life, but when it’s where you come from, it can make you see the whole of your life.

Love Delilah

Visited: 17.12.23

(see Instagram post for video of crowd singing '‘I’m forever blowing bubbles.’)

The POPPY FACTORY, Richmond.

Someone - I can’t remember who - suggested I do an energy reading of The Poppy Factory, which is just up the road from where I live. It seemed a good idea - Armistice Day is coming up (11th November) - and so I book myself a ticket for their tour…and another for a friend who actually lives in the Poppy Factory flats and had never visited either. Something simple, yet meaningful: a signature of our day and the energy around it.

The tour was a very genteel affair, with some harsh facts thrown in. The UK lost more military personnel in WW1 than any other war: 885,246 over 4 years (I honour the fact the numbers were not rounded up…every single life mattering). During the Battle of the Somme, Britain lost 20,000 lives in just one day. 19,240 to be exact, with 57,470 casualties. And these returning men, needed help.

In 1921 the (Royal) British Legion was formed to help demobbed soldiers. It needed to raise money, and would do so with the poppy appeal - the first ones, made in silk, coming from France. (Britain adopted the poppy and France went on the adopt the blue cornflower).

Our tour guide shared how following the war, the Flanders fields bloomed with poppies. The bloodshed and disturbance of the land fed the poppy seeds, and the blood-red flowers rose in their thousands upon thousands amongst the destroyed landscape. Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, moved by this sight and in memory of his friend, penned the poem: In Flanders Fields (see below). As a result, between 1918 - 1921 the poppy became a symbol of regrowth and hope and was adopted by The British Legion in 1921. But the idea was originally introduced by a French woman, Anna Guérin, who was fundraising by making silk poppies to support war widows. She presented her idea to the British Legion, and a million poppies were ordered from Anna Guérin in France - and the British Legion commissioned a further 8 million to be manufactured in Britain.

In the meantime, Major George Howson had a vision. He proposed that the poppies should be made by disabled war veterans in the UK. The Legion agreed and in May 1922 it gave Howson £2,000 to establish a poppy-making factory. A building had to be found, and quickly. Armistice Day was only 6 months away and Howson had many millions of poppies to make. The factory opened on 5th June 1922 on the Old Kent Road in Bermondsey, successfully completing the order in time for the 3rd Armistice Day. In 1926 it moved to its current location in Richmond, giving employment and support to over 320 disabled men and their families, and making up to 30 million poppies a year.

I ask, Why Richmond? ‘To give them the best and longest life,’ we are told. ‘Richmond offered a healthy and green landscape, close to Richmond Park for veterans with missing arms to walk, and close to the River Thames for veterans with missing legs to row.’ There was also enough land to build 58 flats next door and it became a thriving community.

This sense of community remains today. Now, just 12 people work in production at the factory - making the wreaths - with the main poppy-making managed by the British Legion in Aylesford, Kent. The Poppy Factory is its own charity, supporting veterans with physical and mental health conditions, with an additional workforce of staff assisting veterans into employment across all of England and Wales. It does not receive financial help from the British Legion, so has to fundraise for its work.

The Art Deco building, once a brewery, is a heritage centre which mixes workforce and visitors. As a building, it is honest and open, with a sense of warmth. Humour is essential in such an environment and this building supports an open heart and invites a smile. As visitors, we were encouraged to make our own poppy - using only one arm, with the help of a handy wooden block which made this possible for single-handed veterans - which felt significant. And we could observe the wreaths, every one of which is made by hand in this space: 130,000 or so a year. From royal wreaths laid on Remembrance Sunday or during state visits to the wreaths laid in our local villages (almost every village in Britain has a memorial, we are told), to wreaths for organisations - civilian or military - all are commissioned and made in Richmond, by hand. (It was quite a speedy turnaround to agree, design and make the new wreaths for the King, the Queen Consort and the Prince of Wales following Queen Elizabeth’s death just 2 months before Remembrance Sunday, apparently). A Royal wreath can take 2 weeks to make - the ribbons being the royal member’s racing colours - and are usually loaned out rather than replaced. The charity has a badge library of over 3000 different badges (for the centre of the wreath); the team of 12 employees also cut the petals for the annual Festival of Remembrance at the Royal Albert Hall (3 million petals, cut from crepe paper); make the poppies for the Field of Remembrance at Westminster Abbey; and supply the wreaths and installation for the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Westminster Abbey (which is changed every 6 months).

This sense of design and productivity - and inclusion - felt inspiring. Steeped in history, yet modern and in its own energy. Forward-facing, with a focus on the living, while honouring the past. This is an art: to manage energy in this way. Personally, I love an organisation which does one thing and does it well. There’s a cleanness of energy and a productive freedom. Room to expand and breathe - which is reflected in the location of this historic yet relevant charity, despite the changes in 101 years to the surrounding area. And since the employment service side began in 2010, they have helped over 2000 veterans, which is to be applauded. Whilst, I personally, no longer resonate with wearing a poppy, my visit to this charity and the warm and inclusive energy it evokes despite the sadness and horror of war, is as reassuring as the respect it deserves - a lightness of love, resounding back from each poppy worn.

I will always bow in gratitude; not for war, but for the love and loss such bravery creates.

Love Delilah

PS. The poppy is changing to an all-paper one - which might be a challenge in the British weather, but is a welcome adjustment for our planet.

PPS. Of additional interest to myself, I noted the significance of visiting an institution which reflects, in part, aspects of the life of Rudyard Kipling, whose spirit I channel. Rudyard Kipling is disliked and shunned by many, for reasons I appreciate, and which he is keen to share about in our work. However, I also respect his work at the War Graves Commission and his many epitaphs and inscriptions for headstones (‘Lest We Forget’, a common Remembrance Day quote from one of his poems); the loss of his son, John Kipling, age 18, in 1915 in the Battle of Loos, and whose body was never found despite his father’s searching. During our tour we were reminded that during the time of WW1, one-quarter of the World’s land and 400 million people (of a world population of around 1.7 billion) were governed by the British Empire. It is interesting, if unsettling, context for my visit and perspective.

PPPS. The ‘right’ way to wear a poppy, it was suggested, is with the green leaf pointing to 11am.

Visited: 23.10.23

In Flanders Fields

BY JOHN MCCRAE

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

URQUHART CASTLE, Scotland

I approached Urquhart Castle by boat, during my tour of Loch Ness. Stepping from a surreal feeling of suspension above magical water, on to the ground of this stone fortress was energetically challenging, I found. I was entering a dense area of ‘transition’ and unresolved ‘dispute’.

Once a Pictish hill fort around 580AD, a castle in the 1200’s, a medieval fortress in the 1300’s, it has transitioned through various ownerships to today’s visitor attraction. The castle played a role in the Scottish Wars of Independence, amongst other battles, and current ruins date to between 13th-16th century. Located on an energy ‘power point’, you can see why. According to our tour guide, ‘there are reports of two chambers under the castle: one containing the Black Death, the other gold. No-one knows which is which and no-one has dared to open them.’

The soft and magnetic water of the loch adds to the air of mystery around the castle. I am less interested in the history, more the underlying energies which are at first difficult to tune into. It’s as if a black cloud emanates throughout it. I noticed the body language of some of the other visitors - a hushed murmuring and change to people’s energy fields, mine included. It had an odd silence, as if we were being overheard by something…an echo of silence within the sound of silence. My sense, is this place has gifts and probably the chambers are true, but they hold something far more mystical and precious than gold or disease (which was probably a clever decoy). I was reminded of my recent trip to Stonehenge when I sensed sonic chambers beneath it - and I have since learned of chambers rumoured to use water to create sound and ‘communication’ under the pyramids in Egypt. The land of Urquhart was probably one such place, connected by previous civilisations to other sacred - and geometric, I want to say - sites.

As I walked up the castle hill, and through the Gatehouse my chest instantly tightened. I couldn’t breathe properly and my eyes filled with tears. I was guided to sit in a little corner, out of sight of most people. My head felt cloudy and I had an overriding feeling of the land needing healing…that it is sacred underneath and people visit the history and view, not the land itself. There is so much death, but also a mystical truth. My channel tells me: ‘The land is consecrated and that is the disturbance you feel. It has not been released and it is also not honoured’. Is the energy good or bad? I ask (aware of the duality of my question, not one I would usually pose, but somehow significant). ‘The energy is blessed and it is potent. It harbours gifts, should one seek them,’ I am told. ‘The reason you feel as you do is because you are called to heal. So do so now.’

Climbing higher within the grounds I find a spot to meditate. Despite my uncomfortableness, as soon as I closed my eyes I was held. I instinctively invited the land to release itself, to relax, offering light into it. I did not sense trapped souls, more so the imprint in the land itself which could benefit. Slowly my energy field, too, released - as I invited the land to reclaim its powerful wisdom. ‘The fortunes of the loch enable the destiny of the land,’ I am told by my channel. ‘This remaining castle is such significance - a reminder of the fight for the power of the land and its divine water. The waters belong to the land and the land protects the water. Humankind’s fight is between the layers of truth while avoiding what constitutes its presence.’

As I begin to leave, I feel grateful I am able to make a small contribution to the energies of Urquhart. Much, much more is needed. It is important to visit these places, but I am also struck by how the visitors themselves, by appreciation and thought of the history, contribute energetically to keeping the denser imprints in place. With over half a million visitors a year Urquhart is, I sense, still a victim of its more recent past. It is still in battle.

Before boarding the coach taking us back to Inverness, I spot a protruding white rock which feels reassuringly safe to ground upon…an example of the soft underlying energies beneath it. I pop down to the waters’ edge to place my feet in the magnetic water of Loch Ness. Both were needed, to clear my energy field of what I had experienced. Turning to leave, I also had the distinct sense of angels and metaphysical beings having ongoing ‘battles’ in the skies and ether above the castle.

Urquhart created mixed feelings for me, a yearning for the underlying green and richness. Symbolically, it provokes action; beginning with our thought and choices - a reminder of the power we each, in visiting, partake in. Everything is magnified when it echoes through time: a reminder we can choose light in the midst of battle.

I would love to hear your experiences - it certainly would benefit from the visit of more light.

Love,

Delilah

[visit: 5th October 2023]

I took the Loch Ness by Jacobite ‘Temptation’ Cruise.

Read my report on Loch Ness for the first part of this trip.

DUNDREGGAN FOREST, Scotland - The energy of vision

The Dundreggan estate in the Highlands of Scotland is slowly weaving itself into me. It’s funny how places do that to us, isn’t it? Maybe it’s a signature of the Scottish way. This forest first came to my knowledge in 2019 when I searched online for an organisation where I could donate or plant trees – specifically, I wanted to add beauty to our planet. Trees for Life, which offers the opportunity to create ongoing ‘groves of trees’, planted for our future in a stunning location, was perfect. I was in.

The estate was purchased by the charity in 2008 (in large part due to a hefty donation) and covers 10,000 acres near to Loch Ness. It truly is spectacular. The vast barren mountain range which the Highlands is recognised for was not always like this though. After the glaciers melted (approx.14,000 years ago) most of Scotland became forest. The mountains and hills were covered in woodland and abundant wildlife. Now, just 1% of the ancient native forests remain (and about 4% of native woodland in total). Trees for Life’s mission is to restore the native woodlands of the Caledonian forest and this is their flagship project. To do this, they enrol the help of volunteers; and last week I became one, along with 9 other individuals.

The volunteering week was exceptional. We began our days with nature connection, earthing barefoot, listening into and noticing our natural surroundings in new ways. Information was fed into us – gently and with curiosity – along with an abundance of health-giving food. We were handed our own individual experience whilst communing as a group, led by compassionate and aware guides. Nothing was rushed, and nothing was omitted – nature was moving through the fabric of the people, their personalities and the potential we had become part of for 7 days. Physical work settled us. Planting enlivened us. Days in the nursery harmonised us. Wild swimming in the lochen, night-time walks (without torches) to the ancient Fairy Oak tree with the Milky Way as night-scape…we were beginning to breathe like the awakening landscape.

My instinct is always to connect with the energy – to sense the underlying voice. At first, I struggled to get into the energy of the land of the Highlands but soon realised it is what it is. I had to meet it where I was, and where it was. On the surface. Compared to Dorset, or London, it doesn’t seem to offer as much depth energetically as the nature down south…in the way I’m used to. But I soon realised that this is its beauty, that it’s more so the elements and weather which make the energetic landscape, integral to the matter of it.  

In the south, people disappear into the energetic landscape. In London, we can be lost within it. Here, one is part of the landscape in a different way. The character and personality of the people shine - there is space for expression and softness. A twinkle in the eye, a humour of smile and grounded stance…a confidence of spirit and place. There is joy in the land, an underlying peacefulness; a soil which can feel, and is soaking up, the energy of the people planting in it.

And this got me thinking…and appreciating the beauty of the people and ethos. Inspired by the TED Talk of the founder Alan Watson Featherstone, I could feel the vision which was transforming this landscape – a vision which includes the land; and which the land and its protective spirits were responding to. Most businesses or projects exclude the land itself. Even with a new home we can tend to focus on the buildings or ‘gardens’, ignoring the fundamental connection which enables the whole of life (connecting to the land and understanding its’ needs is something I address with clients in my land energy work). The vision, generosity, non-judgemental inclusion and transparency of this project – and hence of the energetic land of Dundreggan – had enough space within it for everyone to make it their own: to create and vision our own connection and contribution; one we can enjoy in situ, or take home with us. And, though this is something we can each do in our own small way, in our own areas of life or business, it is rare to experience.

There is so much to share about my stay at Dundreggan, I don’t know where to start. The 100,000 trees they grow from seed each year and their passion around this; the nearly two million trees they have planted; the energies of ‘adding to’ and ‘removing from’ of the land; the clarity and quality of the drinking water, which I still keep thinking about... And maybe it’s not necessary. My biggest take-home, even more so than all this, is the collective energy of the people enabling a landscape which, though wounded in areas undergoing early stages of regeneration, is deeply thriving in pockets and now spreading naturally. “Every tree matters” is a saying which was shared; every person does too, at Dundreggan.

As the 600-900 year-old Fairy Oak – a ‘tree of wisdom’ – said to me, during our night-time visit:

‘…we breathe the same air as you, we live upon the same ground as you, we share the same space as you…we understand you/humanity need to cut us down…we understand. And we also need humans to survive…’

It really is a co-creative force. It relies on generous and vast vision, upon action. And importantly, a vision which includes the land. We can all do this, in our own small ways, can’t we?

Love,

Delilah

At the time of writing this, there are 230 trees in my Trees for Beauty grove – many kindly donated by friends and clients. Following my visit to Dundreggan I am inspired to aim for 1000 trees. If you would like to add a little beauty and love to our planet in this way, I would love you to do so. Trees are £5 + vat. And you never know, we might all get to go together one day :)

More images and details of my trip are posted on Instagram @delilahsullivanenergy

[visited: 7th-14th October 2023]

LOCH NESS, Scotland

At nearly 800ft deep, and formed by a displacement of the Great Glen fault-line which slices across the land of Scotland, Loch Ness is an energetic abyss. A place of myth and legend, I was transfixed throughout my visit.

I took the Jacobite cruise trip from Inverness transferring to the boat at the beginning of the Caledonian Canal - which is 60 miles long in total, running from Inverness in the east to Fort William in the west. The canal leads into the loch (Inverness means ‘mouth of the River Ness’) and runs the length of the fault-line - what I consider an energy line. Loch Ness, at nearly 23 miles in length (and 1.7 miles wide) forms a significant section of this natural parting of lands - and of what was once, millions of years ago, two different continents. (As the continents drifted together the Caledonian mountains were formed. It is suggested that once upon a time, the Caledonian mountains would have been comparable to the Alps or Himalayas).

Though not the longest or deepest loch in Scotland, Ness contains the most water: more than all the lakes, rivers and reservoirs of England and Wales combined. It is immense and omnipresent. Deep and forbidden. It speaks, yet reveals very little; a language beyond the comprehensible, I found. Mythical and strange. Powerful, yet with a level of considered care for itself. The energy felt boundaried and full…and potently inexplainable. 7,452 million cubic metres of liquid myth, with reports of underlying caves and connections to other lochs and lands. Never freezing, roughly 6 degrees all year round.

Travelling across the dark and creamy waters I felt suspended and other-worldly. The weather was overcast, adding to the atmosphere. Peering down to a magical black-ness: not deep green, not midnight blue, not black - but as if the earth itself breathes up through it and the magic incubates in it. I felt unable to ground. I was surreally traversing across a vastness of ‘something’.

The water is black because of the peat from the trees and wood rotting into the loch (the tour guide was a handy, and very friendly, source of information). But colours have energy…a vibration. There is more to this lake than meets the eye - it is like a mirror, reflecting what little we need to know, while below, worlds of magic and mystery.

I noticed the hills and mountains surrounding the waters edge. They had ‘a light’ to them, which was most noticeable around the mountains with no trees upon them. “The loch is also the land,” said my channel. “And the trees and the woods, the mountains and the visioning.” (a clue there, I think :)) As we head further out, the surrounding greenery adds richness to the energy. And still, I cannot get ‘in’ to the information. My angel nudges me: “Look at the sign in the energy,” she says. My sense: it is ancient land, mythical love, a portal; that we can come to Ness to retrieve wisdom…if we are willing to time-travel. If we are willing to traverse more than just water.

Loch Ness is old…in the true sense of what it means to pre-date what we yet know. Timeless and exciting…hypnotising. Could there be a Loch Ness mythical ‘monster’? Absolutely. Are we ready for such a world to reveal itself to us? Maybe, not yet. Should you visit? Most definitely - though most will just see ‘a lake’, so you may choose to visit alone, as I did.

Love,

Delilah

PS. According to our guide, there have been 1153 ‘officially’ reported sightings of Nessie to-date (with 7 in 2023, as of 5th October) and the first sighting was in the River Ness which flows swiftly through Inverness city centre - and which I found just as enigmatic in its own way.

[visit: 5th October 2023]

Read my upcoming report on Urquhart Castle for the second part of this trip.

CROP CIRCLE - Hatherden Lane, Nr Charlton, Hampshire

Second crop circle in July, and it’s a beauty! Such powerful energy. And…the farmer is happy for people to visit (courteously, of course). So, if you are reading this at the end of July 2023, get yourself there before the field is harvested (its down a side road, off Hatherden Lane).

Entering the aura of the crop circle, and this time I had my dowsing rods. I could feel where the ‘bubble’ started, a little way before reaching the first imprint in the wheat - the rods swung open and then just remained open as I approached. My first impression was a sweetness, in smell and feeling. More feminine than masculine feeling, but neither predominantly, the energy had a warmth. I noted the power in my solar plexus. Sitting in the centre circle, I meditated and tuned in.

My spirit guide was with me, and interestingly I noticed the angels were not - it was not their vibration…they remained ‘outside’. I was prompted to ask the energy of the circle some questions.

What does it need?

The answer I received was: It needs to feel itself. It came (a bubble of ‘energy’) to experience itself.

What is it for?

It’s here to bring energy. It’s encoded. To boost…like a vitamin burst to the planet. It’s a new energy.’

I am prompted once again: How will it know itself?

It will grow, like a virus does. self-reproducing. But it will bring abundance.

Ask it, why?

Because it has power and comes with love. It stabilises while ‘entropying’ and enlivening. It can adjust base metals.

Sitting there, I notice I am struggling a little to sit. I am slumping, as if my spine has disappeared. I cannot feel it/my centre alignment and my shoulder and upper muscles are over-compensating, now aching. I become sensitive to the ‘metal’ element of the energy - an electromagnetism - and the area of my body which had radiotherapy starts to ache, as if it is responding in some way. I take my boots off and begin to walk the outline of the circles.

This crop circle has 9 large outer circles, 9 medium-sized, and 9 smaller - all leading to a centre holding circle. Interestingly, the energy is stronger on the outer edges, in particular the 9 large outer balls. They each felt similar to me, though other visitors commented on feeling particular chakras in each one. Walking anti-clockwise to the clockwise lay of the wheat felt like an inner exfoliation - the energy pushing through me. I felt like a sieve :) and then, walking clockwise again, it smoothed back down in my energy field and body. Noticing the lay of the wheat, through smaller circles into larger ones, it looked as if the flow of energy ‘passed through’ whilst simultaneously whipping a circular motion; the wheat not broken, but laying perfectly. After walking all 9, I came to stand in the centre point of the middle and enjoyed a feeling of lightness, lifting and alignment.

There is no doubt in my mind that this is a ‘real’ crop circle. It felt reassuring and enlivening - and pure. At one point, when meditating, there was a drone overhead. Ironically this felt odd, uncomfortable - not a feeling I got in the slightest from this beautiful and immaculate and unexplainable imprint in the wheat.

When it came time to leave (I could have definitely stayed longer) I noticed how full of energy I felt…and still do, a day later. My spirit guide tells me: It is not the numbers which are significant, but the patterns. See the patterns, not the numbers. This is the key to Life. Something to ponder, and in the meantime, I am left with a pulsing…a feeling of infinity, duality vastly reduced.

If you can go, I suggest you do.

(and please let me know, how you experience it :))

Love

Delilah x

All location and research info, courtesy of cropcircleconnector.com

Aerial image: Crop Circles From Above

To see more images and videos, visit my post on Instagram.

PS. Please remember this is a farmer’s field, property and livelihood…to show utmost respect and distance - and to keep to only the flattened areas and tramlines if you do choose to go in.

[visit: 28th July 2023]

Aerial image: www.cropcircleconnector.com / Crop Circles From Above

http://cropcircleconnector.com/2023/Charlton/Charlton2023a.html

STONEHENGE, Wiltshire

I have driven past Stonehenge many times. I usually open the car window, in a vague attempt to absorb some of the energy, but have never felt compelled to stop and visit. That all changed on 7th July 2023 (7.7.7) when my car ‘broke down’ on the A303 heading west exactly on an energy line to Stonehenge – pretty much as close as a car can stop. (It is a magical story, which I have shared on Instagram). Returning to London 3 days later, immediately after visiting a crop circle, I find myself turning off the main road, towards the ancient iconic landmark.

I hadn’t expected to encounter a visitor centre; what felt like a degradation of a sacred site. Churches and places of worship do not have these ‘barriers’ or levels of monetisation to them - so why should this? I understand the need for upkeep and preservation (1 million people visit a year) but £26.50 is a hefty price for communing with the sacred. But still, on the shuttle bus I get.

Approaching the site, I tune in to the land. Immediately I am struck by a ‘metal’ energy. A feeling of ‘ore’ under the ground where the stones are placed. I sense a magnetism - held codes and power - but not power that can be harnessed. Instead, it’s more of a balancing anchor (for the planet). I sense the stones are ‘put there’ – guided – but it’s what is under the ground which has the power.

Being in communion and up close with this land, feels fortifying for the blood and a gateway … in a way which is perhaps little understood today, though once revered, understood and enabled. This understanding feels imprinted in the energy and aura.

Checking in with my guides and I am told the (bluestone and sarsen) stones are doorways to other realities and levels of consciousness. I sense an energy portal above the circle. I am told the stones are given in offering to the gods … the long-forgotten gods who balance and harmonise the planet, and to notice this energy for future encounters. Walking to the boundary, I can see the point across the nearby A303 where my car was stopped, still surreal in my awareness. ‘It is a natural ‘entry-point’, a gateway you have entered through,’ I am told. And I realise, it is how we come to Stonehenge which matters …t he pilgrimage, as relevant today, as it has been for thousands of years.

The next day, I ‘chat’ further with my energy channel:

Channel: The energy of Stonehenge itself is as much maligned as it is revered. This is what is not understood. This creates the confusion and ambivalence you saw (ref the visitor centre and commercial aspect). But underneath the ground is a most divine chamber. It is protected by the elements you sense – the ‘metal’ as you call it. But one cannot dig to find it – it is electromagnetic and sonar.

Me: Sonar?

Channel: Yes, sonar.

Me: And what do they (the energies) do?

Channel: They create a sonic sound and beam.

Me: So the Earth/Planet ‘speaks’…

Channel: It radiates information and signals, beyond human capability.

This is where we let the conversation rest … my visit to Stonehenge very much a work-in-progress. I look forward to sharing more, at some point in the future, I sense – especially as planning permission has been granted to dig a 2 mile road tunnel for traffic nearby(!) [there is so little comprehension of how ‘digging’ in one place energetically affects another – perhaps many miles away, even globally, due to the ley/energy lines which will be ‘severed’ – and how the land must be held and healed through such a process].

What have been your experiences of this World Heritage Site?

Love Delilah

[visit: 5pm, 10th July 2023]

CROP CIRCLE - Norton Plantation, Wiltshire

I had a feeling I would be visiting a crop circle this year. My first crop circle visit was in 2021 - a powerful and fascinating experience, but 2022 held no pull to explore these phenomena gracing our summer landscape. This year however, something is in the air :)

My trip to Norton Plantation was a last minute decision. A few circles had been reported in the UK in the Hampshire and Wiltshire area (courtesy of the very useful and interesting website cropcircleconnector.com and a prompt from a friend). ‘Go to this one,’ I heard from my guide. I wasn’t disappointed as access was easy - not all farmers will allow visits to their land. It had only recently been discovered (3 days earlier, on 07.07.2023)…and I had the place to myself. Just me and the rain.

As I approached the circle (being sure to keep to the tram lines and where others had already accessed) I noted the lightness of it. I experienced my involuntary coughing (which happens when I enter or cross energy lines) - the sign this circle was ‘real’ - but mostly I felt a gentleness. Immediately upon entering the aura of the circle I experienced the familiar dull ache in my left temple (as I had in the crop circle in 2021, and had not experienced before or since). Interestingly (as I had in 2021), I was guided to not walk directly into it, but to walk round to a particular entry spot. Taking my compass out, I notice 90 degrees East (also the direction of my car ‘breakdown’ in relation to Stonehenge on 07.07.2023).

As I walked the ‘petals’ of the circle (it is arranged as a beautiful ‘flower’ with no access to the ‘centre point’) I felt an aura of power, of a balance to it….that the message comes lightly, forgivingly. It has an ease. It felt almost as if something was ‘missing’ but present - an ‘ingredient’ perhaps, that my limited awareness cannot access. Something, in the nothing. And not dissimilar to the energy during my Stonehenge experience on 07.07.2023. I also noticed it was impossible to ground…my feet (or the energy from my feet) could not connect to the ground beneath them, as if I was in a bubble. I tried to think of the past but couldn’t access it, nor my future other than sensing it was ahead of me ‘the other side of something’. I was suspended, lightly, my energy field absorbing as I listened. But I did not receive any specific message from the circle itself.

Returning home, I need time to absorb. My energy was too heightened to write this report immediately. But a couple of days later I had a chat with my angel (as you do :)) who shared that a crop circle is a divine transformation of a moment in time. That, each crop circle – and there are some which are not ‘true’ – leaves an imprint in the electromagnetic field. That it happens by itself and needs no support and these ‘downloads’ keep the Earth’s rotation stable. They have a higher purpose, aside from the intrigue and personal experience.

I am reminded that what I report is my impression - and of course we will each have our own unique experience. I am told that it is one of many, part of a wider perspective…’championed by many and ignored by the majority’. And that it is truth…there is much of influence which happens to and in Planet Earth, connected to the wider, more expanded and direct forces surrounding Earth. She (my angel guide is feminine) says some of these instances are reactions of Earth and its climate and some are stabilising effects. All is true, and all occurs, she says.

If you visit any crop circles this summer, I would love to hear of your experiences. They truly are fascinating, and for me, a privilege to witness.

Love Delilah

To see more images and videos, visit my post on Instagram.

For info on new crop circles: www.cropcircleconnector.com

Aerial image: Crop Circles From Above

PS. Please remember this is a farmer’s field, property and livelihood…to show utmost respect and distance - and to keep to only the flattened areas and tramlines if you do choose to go in.

[visit: 10th July 2023]

Below image: www.cropcircleconnector.com / Crop Circles From Above

http://cropcircleconnector.com/2023/norton/norton2023a.html