10/02/2025
The Solstice Hitchhike: Guided to Stonehenge
When I was in graduate school studying acting, the most important dates on my calendar were audition times and performance nights. The significance of solstices and equinoxes simply wasn't on my radar. In fact, for most of my life, I’ve seemed to bumble along to sacred places around the world, experiencing everything, feeling the magic, but knowing almost nothing about it. Clueless, I'd show up and receive whatever activations and energetic initiations were taking place, totally unaware.
It was just before a playgoing trip to London that my summer supervisor, the box office director, paused our conversation. “Hey, Lisa,” she said, “you’re going to be over there during the solstice. You should try to go to Stonehenge! It’s the only time of year they allow people near the stones.”
She helped me organize the journey, and, as if fate itself had stepped in, the solstice that year fell on the theaters’ dark day—I was completely free to go.
The morning I left, I took the train all by myself. I arrived in the town of Salisbury early, full of anticipation. That feeling was instantly shattered by a rude man at the bus station who informed me, with a distinct lack of compassion, that I had “missed the bus to the site.” Disheartened, I wandered the streets as a heavy rain began to fall. HARD. I searched desperately for a cozy local pub or café to dry out, but the only place available, right on the town square, was a Starbucks. I settled in.
I found a spot next to a very large man who cut an imposing figure—bald, tattooed and pierced—we sat in silence for some time, gazing out the window at the downpour. Eventually, I said hello, and we began to visit. It turned out he was the director of an office that oversaw the city’s historic preservation, ensuring all building practices honored the town's history. There was a special, immediate energy between us. He insisted I could not leave without visiting the Salisbury Cathedral. When the rain finally stopped, he walked me right to its massive doors, kissed me gently on the cheek, and with a magical farewell, disappeared.
Inside the cathedral, I marveled at the artistry, the sheer history, and the powerful energetics of the place. As I explored, I noticed a very cute man occasionally peeking at me. We wandered around independently, doing our own thing, but constantly catching eyes and exchanging awkward smiles. We never spoke.
Eventually, I made my way to the hostel I had booked. All this time, a thick sense of disappointment hung over me, convinced I had missed my chance to experience Stonehenge. When I arrived, though, there was the cute man from the cathedral, sitting at a picnic table with a married couple. We finally greeted each other, and I joined their company.
When I recounted my sad story of missing the bus, they all burst out laughing. “No, you didn’t!” one of them exclaimed. “That’s exactly where we’re headed!”
I quickly hitched my wagon to theirs, ready to kick that lying station master in the nuts, though I settled for letting the joy of going extinguish my anger. The cute man, whose name was Roy, and I became fast friends instantly.
We all ended up on the first bus to the site and were the first people off it. Once the doors opened, people didn’t walk—they literally ran to the ancient stones. It was exhilarating! As we neared the circle, a woman, dressed much like the legendary woman in white, called out, “If you want to be part of a healing ceremony for the Earth, join hands now!”
Inside the stone circle, we all immediately complied. I don’t know how many humans joined the chain, but we held hands and prayed for peace and healing for Mother Earth. The feeling was profound and POWERFUL. I was also fascinated by a group of men whose faces and distinctive look I recognize from the annual photographs shared online; I believe they are part of the area’s druidic practioners.
Roy, his friends, and I hung out all night. It was dismaying how many people were there for some drunken bacchanalia. I felt it was highly disrespectful of the sacred site and began to understand why the bus station master had possessed such a sour attitude—he must have seen this contrast hundreds of times.
It was a very long, cold night, but we stayed up. Roy and I huddled together and stayed warm, speaking in hushed, excited tones.
I’ll never forget the sunrise. All of us who had valued the true, spiritual purpose of the night stood together, waiting for the sun to hit the perfect mark. As the light broke, we cheered, we cried, we sang songs, and we hugged strangers. It was the most beautiful, communal experience.
It wasn't until the following year, when a fellow acting student named Megan Callahan joined our program, that my true education in Reiki, energy work, and sacred ceremony began. Yet, despite my constant bumbling and cluelessness, Spirit had made absolutely sure I went to that sacred site and received the activations and initiations I needed. It even provided me with wonderful guides and guardians—like a tattooed historian and a charming stranger named Roy—to ensure I was safe and didn't miss the bus after all.
