Meliorism in Motion – What Sacred Sites Taught Me About Healing

Some days I wonder who I am to be here.

To walk a sacred path in the sunshine.
To sing in stone chapels.
To speak prayers into ancient caves.
To taste stillness… while so much of the world is aching.

Grief has risen often and unexpectedly along this pilgrimage —
a voice that whispers:
“This is not the time for joy.
How dare you feel light when so many are drowning in darkness?”

But then something deeper answers.
A remembering.
A knowing.

There’s a word for this remembering: meliorism —
the belief that every act of love,
every whisper of forgiveness,
every ritual done with intention
can shift something.
Not just in our own bodies, but in the field.
In the world.

These last few days have taken me to places where this truth echoes loudly.

To Minerve, where 140 Cathars were burned alive for their beliefs.
And countless thousands more elsewhere.

To Rennes-le-Château, where the divide between the Church and the Divine Feminine feels hidden in plain sight.

To the Throne of Isis — a sacred stone seat where feminine wisdom was once held in reverence.
I felt a deep anger rise when I learned the Church renamed it “the devil’s chair.”

To the Gorges de Galamus, where a wild, unpolished cave has been shaped into a chapel.
I understand now why hermits once lived there, and why pilgrims still come.

And to a magical labyrinth in Nébias, which locals call enchanted —
a natural cathedral where the veil between worlds feels thin.

In each of these places, people once came seeking connection —
with nature, with non-duality, with love.

In each one, we paused.
We listened.
We grieved.
We honoured.

We did ritual —
to alchemise emotion,
to bless the Earth,
to remember those who came before us.

We are not pretending things are fine.
We are not bypassing the pain.

We are moving with it.
Breathing into it.
Offering beauty, presence, and tenderness — not as escape, but as response.

We’re a small group.
But we’re not alone.

We’re with the wind and the trees.
The salt and the stones.
Those who walked before us.
And the elements.

And I truly believe:

This vortex we’re creating — of reverence, release, and remembering — ripples.

It doesn’t fix the world.
But it feeds the light.

So if you’re feeling joy and guilt at once…
If you’re laughing with tears still on your cheeks…
If you’re dancing while holding heartbreak…

That’s not wrong.
That’s being whole.
That’s meliorism.

And maybe… that’s part of how we begin to heal.

Thank you for walking beside me in spirit.
I’ll be sharing the final part of this sacred journey soon.

In the meantime, if this stirred something in you — I invite you to follow along on Instagram, Facebook, or LinkedIn, where I weave these reflections into the way I speak, teach, and live.