Stonehenge: Embracing the Mystery . . . Feeling the Connection

There are three places in the world that, for reasons I can’t fully explain, I have always held sacred - Machu Picchu, Patagonia, and Stonehenge. Long before I ever thought about making real plans to visit them, these places had already claimed a space in my heart. I just knew that at some point in my life, I would stand in their presence.

This week, I was able to make that dream a reality - at least with one of them. Carla and I visited Stonehenge.

Because I had imagined this experience for so long, I worried that I might have built it up too much - that my own expectations, shaped by years of wonder and over-idealized visions, might set me up for disappointment. After all, how could the real thing possibly match the grandeur of my imagination?

But fortunately, that wasn’t the case at all.

If anything, the experience exceeded my expectations. There’s something rare and wonderful about those moments in life when reality doesn’t just meet what you had hoped for - it goes beyond it. That’s exactly what happened to me at Stonehenge.

And in thinking about why, I believe my anticipation and enthusiasm actually helped shape the experience itself. I had spent so much time imagining what it would be like that, when I finally arrived, I was completely open - ready to take it all in at the deepest possible level. Instead of feeling let down by my own expectations, I felt as though they had prepared me to receive the experience more fully, more profoundly.

For me, Stonehenge was more than just a collection of ancient stones - it felt alive. I could sense its energy, as if the site itself had a presence, a spirit of its own.

I know that might sound a little over the top, but an experience is what it is - and that’s exactly how it felt. As I stood in its presence, I could almost sense the stories held within those stones - their thousands of years of inspiring wonder in those willing to receive it, absorbing history, and witnessing the passing of time. It was as if they were whispering their story to me, and all I had to do was listen.

And so, in this blog, I want to share my own journey - how my experience at Stonehenge unfolded, how it touched me, and how, in a way, the stories of the stones intersected with my own.

The journey began with a two-kilometer walk through the beautiful English countryside leading to the site. As I approached the magnificent stones, I assumed that in my excitement to see this incredible site, I would immediately start taking photos. After all, that’s what I do - I document, I capture moments, I preserve what I see through my lens. And yet, when I arrived, I felt no rush to start snapping photos with my iPhone.

Instead, I simply stood there, completely absorbed by the majesty of the place. There was something about it - its ancient, silent wisdom, its sense of enduring mystery - that made me pause. Without even realizing it, I felt the need to get to know my subject first, before I started photographing it. 

So, I took a moment to breathe it all in. The weight of time, the precision of the stones, the quiet hum of history in the air - it all settled around me. I wasn’t just looking at a famous landmark; I was standing in the presence of something timeless, something sacred. 

Then, without consciously deciding - without telling myself, okay, now you’re ready to take photos - it just happened. Organically. Naturally. Once I made the connection – once I was feeling Stonehenge rather than just seeing it - the photos came effortlessly.

Even though we don’t truly know why Stonehenge was built - there are theories, but that’s all - there’s a sacredness about it that touches each person who visits in a deeply personal way. As I stood before this ancient, mysterious structure, I realized something unexpected – the reason it was built no longer mattered to me.

The scholar in me once craved an answer to that question, believing that understanding its purpose would somehow enrich the experience. But after seeing it in person, I now understand that the mystery itself is what makes it profound. 

In fact, I wouldn’t want to know the full story anymore. Something about not knowing feels more fitting. Whether or not we ever uncover its true purpose is irrelevant. Perhaps Stonehenge was always meant to be a mystery, something that invites us to step away from our need for explanations and instead, simply feel its presence. When we stop searching for answers, we stop analyzing. And when we stop analyzing, we start experiencing. 

Standing before these towering stones, I didn’t feel a connection to some distant, unknowable force. Instead, I felt something even more powerful and tangible - a deep, undeniable connection to the Earth itself. It wasn’t about the divine, the supernatural, or something beyond me. It was about being fully present, here on this planet, surrounded by the ancient and enduring, and feeling an inseparable part of it all.

In that moment, as the wind moved through the stones and time itself seemed to stand still, I was struck by just how extraordinary this world is - despite all the ways we complicate it. Perhaps that is the true essence of the sacred - not something distant or beyond our reach, but the simple, profound sense of love and connection with all that exists.

For me, that was the true experience of Stonehenge. And I wouldn’t trade that mystery for anything.

Thank you, Stonehenge, for your magic, beauty, and mystery - and most of all, for your scared wisdom.