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From Stonehenge to Sedona, why are we drawn to mystical places?

From Stonehenge to Sedona, why are we drawn to mystical places?

As the sun rises at Chaco Canyon, shadows stretch across ancient sandstone with such precise astronomical alignment that it's easy to believe it was designed for a cosmic purpose. At Machu Picchu, the intricate stonework and mountaintop design reveal feats of engineering that leave visitors in quiet reverence. Sedona's red rocks hum with rumored energy vortexes. On the Salisbury Plain, Stonehenge casts shadows both on the landscape and on its original purpose.
Across the world, places like these stir similar feelings—that something ancient and wise lingers. These destinations are charged with a sense of awe and draw travelers to them en masse. But why are certain places magnetic to the human spirit? What are we seeking when we visit them, and what do we find that keeps us coming back? Rituals and celebrations, like the pictured autumnal equinox, can make visitors feel more connected to a place. Photograph by Alice Zoo, Nat Geo Image Collection Turning to nature for connection
In a world grappling with disconnection and digital overload, there has been a steady rise in spiritual tourism and pilgrimages. People are turning to sacred places not just to see the history, but to experience something bigger than themselves.
'Humans believe that the sacred is an energy that inhabits particular places or buildings,' says Jeffrey Kripal, the J. Newton Rayzor Chair in Philosophy and Religious Thought at Rice University and author of How to Think Impossibly, among a dozen other books. 'It's innate in human nature to return to these sacred places. We somehow need this as human beings.'
'Mountains, large bodies of water, and canyons frequently inspire this reverence,' says Susannah Crockford, an anthropologist specializing in religion, ecology, and political economy. She adds that such geographical features often stir deep emotional responses in the human brain. 'They are very vast, very affecting.'
It's not just natural features that move us. Human-built structures, like Indonesia's Borobudur Temple or Turkey's Göbekli Tepe, imbue a landscape with meaning in such a way that it creates this sense of awe, says Sabina Magliocco, a professor of anthropology and religion at the University of British Columbia. 'Cathedrals, temples, and mosques are constructed to create this sense of connection to something greater than oneself,' says Magliocco.
Across cultures and centuries, we design places to hold our sense of mysticism. Human-built structures can also create a sense of connection. Photograph by Dean Conger, Nat Geo Image Collection The importance of storytelling
Once a place is considered sacred, that feeling tends to linger, even if the use or message shifts. That's why we are drawn to ancient sites and why sacred places are often built upon one another, both literally and symbolically.
While many of these places are extraordinary on their own, it is often the stories we tell and the rituals we repeat that make them sacred. 'People make places sacred,' Magliocco says. 'We create place through space personally.' We do this in our everyday lives, for example, by becoming regulars at coffee shops. It's our way of saying 'I belong here.'
Cultures also create this sacred meaning on the larger landscape through collective storytelling. These narratives link physical locations to divine beings, heroic events, or spiritual transformations. A place becomes sacred through repetition when stories are retold and rituals reenacted. The acts themselves imprint meaning. Over time, that meaning deepens. Eventually, people build structures to house these rituals, laying foundations for sacred spaces for future generations to connect with. The lens of our viewpoint matters
Why we're drawn to these mystical places often depends on whom you ask, says Crockford. Religious people might say the experience is due to God or a divine presence there. A psychologist might say the feeling is simply your brain's response to awe. An anthropologist will tell you it's society projecting itself onto its gods.
'There isn't one answer as to why these spaces are sacred. When someone tells you an answer, the answer tells you more about the person you've asked, rather than the space itself,' Crockford says. Pilgrimages can foster a deep sense of meaning and connection to a place, like the Chandragup mud volcano or the Camino de Santiago. Photograph by Matthieu Paley, Nat Geo Image Collection (Top) (Left) and Photograph by Matthieu Paley, Nat Geo Image Collection (Bottom) (Right)
In that sense, sacredness is like a mirror, which helps explain why so many different people are intrigued by these spaces. People project meaning onto a site and then see their beliefs reflected back. A yogi feels energetic alignment on a quiet mountainside. A traveler walking the Camino de Santiago may feel something sacred not from the churches, but from the journey itself.
Kripal agrees. It's not just the place—it's the interaction that creates the experience. 'I suspect it's a relationship between the person and the place,' he says
That relationship can be self-reinforcing. The more people who report spiritual experiences at a location, the more others come seeking that same connection. That expectation, Crockford says, makes it more likely they will experience something spiritual. Machu Picchu in Peru is dotted with ancient Incan ruins. Photograph by Jonathan Irish, Nat Geo Image Collection Spiritual and mystical experiences are deeply personal
That doesn't make it any less real. 'These experiences are personal and individualized. You can't run a replicable experiment to prove someone's mystical experience,' Crockford says. 'But that doesn't invalidate it.'
Science, by its nature, destabilizes sacred stories. It offers a grand, cohesive narrative—like the Big Bang or evolution—that leaves less perceived room for myth.
This tension has the potential to undermine the meaning of sacred places. And yet, countless people continue to experience profound, unexplainable moments at these sites. That sense of being connected to something larger than us, something enduring, is appealing and can feel rare in modern life. Sacred places meet this very human need, offering a moment outside of time and a space where the constant search for proof dissolves.
The good news, Magliocco says, is that sacredness isn't limited to Machu Picchu or Stonehenge. 'We can make a meaningful place out of anywhere,' she says.
'The real mecca,' Kripal adds, 'just might be in the heart.' Tiffany Nieslanik is a freelance writer drawn to stories that begin with the question, 'Why?' With a deep curiosity for the human experience, she explores narratives at the intersection of science and personal transformation. She can usually be found wandering historic streets with her family, petting stray animals, or getting lost in a local bookstore.

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Why spiritual tourism is on the rise, from Stonehenge to Sedona
Why spiritual tourism is on the rise, from Stonehenge to Sedona

Yahoo

time2 days ago

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Why spiritual tourism is on the rise, from Stonehenge to Sedona

As the sun rises at Chaco Canyon, shadows stretch across ancient sandstone with such precise astronomical alignment that it's easy to believe it was designed for a cosmic purpose. At Machu Picchu, the intricate stonework and mountaintop design reveal feats of engineering that leave visitors in quiet reverence. Sedona's red rocks hum with rumored energy vortexes. On the Salisbury Plain, Stonehenge casts shadows both on the landscape and on its original purpose. Across the world, places like these stir similar feelings—that something ancient and wise lingers. These destinations are charged with a sense of awe and draw travelers to them en masse. But why are certain places magnetic to the human spirit? What are we seeking when we visit them, and what do we find that keeps us coming back? In a world grappling with disconnection and digital overload, there has been a steady rise in spiritual tourism and pilgrimages. People are turning to sacred places not just to see the history, but to experience something bigger than themselves. 'Humans believe that the sacred is an energy that inhabits particular places or buildings,' says Jeffrey Kripal, the J. Newton Rayzor Chair in Philosophy and Religious Thought at Rice University and author of How to Think Impossibly, among a dozen other books. 'It's innate in human nature to return to these sacred places. We somehow need this as human beings.' 'Mountains, large bodies of water, and canyons frequently inspire this reverence,' says Susannah Crockford, an anthropologist specializing in religion, ecology, and political economy. She adds that such geographical features often stir deep emotional responses in the human brain. 'They are very vast, very affecting.' It's not just natural features that move us. Human-built structures, like Indonesia's Borobudur Temple or Turkey's Göbekli Tepe, imbue a landscape with meaning in such a way that it creates this sense of awe, says Sabina Magliocco, a professor of anthropology and religion at the University of British Columbia. 'Cathedrals, temples, and mosques are constructed to create this sense of connection to something greater than oneself,' says Magliocco. Across cultures and centuries, we design places to hold our sense of mysticism. Once a place is considered sacred, that feeling tends to linger, even if the use or message shifts. That's why we are drawn to ancient sites and why sacred places are often built upon one another, both literally and symbolically. While many of these places are extraordinary on their own, it is often the stories we tell and the rituals we repeat that make them sacred. 'People make places sacred,' Magliocco says. 'We create place through space personally.' We do this in our everyday lives, for example, by becoming regulars at coffee shops. It's our way of saying 'I belong here.' Cultures also create this sacred meaning on the larger landscape through collective storytelling. These narratives link physical locations to divine beings, heroic events, or spiritual transformations. A place becomes sacred through repetition when stories are retold and rituals reenacted. The acts themselves imprint meaning. Over time, that meaning deepens. Eventually, people build structures to house these rituals, laying foundations for sacred spaces for future generations to connect with. Why we're drawn to these mystical places often depends on whom you ask, says Crockford. Religious people might say the experience is due to God or a divine presence there. A psychologist might say the feeling is simply your brain's response to awe. An anthropologist will tell you it's society projecting itself onto its gods. 'There isn't one answer as to why these spaces are sacred. When someone tells you an answer, the answer tells you more about the person you've asked, rather than the space itself,' Crockford says. In that sense, sacredness is like a mirror, which helps explain why so many different people are intrigued by these spaces. People project meaning onto a site and then see their beliefs reflected back. A yogi feels energetic alignment on a quiet mountainside. A traveler walking the Camino de Santiago may feel something sacred not from the churches, but from the journey itself. Kripal agrees. It's not just the place—it's the interaction that creates the experience. 'I suspect it's a relationship between the person and the place,' he says That relationship can be self-reinforcing. The more people who report spiritual experiences at a location, the more others come seeking that same connection. That expectation, Crockford says, makes it more likely they will experience something spiritual. That doesn't make it any less real. 'These experiences are personal and individualized. You can't run a replicable experiment to prove someone's mystical experience,' Crockford says. 'But that doesn't invalidate it.' Science, by its nature, destabilizes sacred stories. It offers a grand, cohesive narrative—like the Big Bang or evolution—that leaves less perceived room for myth. This tension has the potential to undermine the meaning of sacred places. And yet, countless people continue to experience profound, unexplainable moments at these sites. That sense of being connected to something larger than us, something enduring, is appealing and can feel rare in modern life. Sacred places meet this very human need, offering a moment outside of time and a space where the constant search for proof dissolves. The good news, Magliocco says, is that sacredness isn't limited to Machu Picchu or Stonehenge. 'We can make a meaningful place out of anywhere,' she says. 'The real mecca,' Kripal adds, 'just might be in the heart.' Tiffany Nieslanik is a freelance writer drawn to stories that begin with the question, 'Why?' With a deep curiosity for the human experience, she explores narratives at the intersection of science and personal transformation. She can usually be found wandering historic streets with her family, petting stray animals, or getting lost in a local bookstore.

From Stonehenge to Sedona, why are we drawn to mystical places?
From Stonehenge to Sedona, why are we drawn to mystical places?

National Geographic

time2 days ago

  • National Geographic

From Stonehenge to Sedona, why are we drawn to mystical places?

As the sun rises at Chaco Canyon, shadows stretch across ancient sandstone with such precise astronomical alignment that it's easy to believe it was designed for a cosmic purpose. At Machu Picchu, the intricate stonework and mountaintop design reveal feats of engineering that leave visitors in quiet reverence. Sedona's red rocks hum with rumored energy vortexes. On the Salisbury Plain, Stonehenge casts shadows both on the landscape and on its original purpose. Across the world, places like these stir similar feelings—that something ancient and wise lingers. These destinations are charged with a sense of awe and draw travelers to them en masse. But why are certain places magnetic to the human spirit? What are we seeking when we visit them, and what do we find that keeps us coming back? Rituals and celebrations, like the pictured autumnal equinox, can make visitors feel more connected to a place. Photograph by Alice Zoo, Nat Geo Image Collection Turning to nature for connection In a world grappling with disconnection and digital overload, there has been a steady rise in spiritual tourism and pilgrimages. People are turning to sacred places not just to see the history, but to experience something bigger than themselves. 'Humans believe that the sacred is an energy that inhabits particular places or buildings,' says Jeffrey Kripal, the J. Newton Rayzor Chair in Philosophy and Religious Thought at Rice University and author of How to Think Impossibly, among a dozen other books. 'It's innate in human nature to return to these sacred places. We somehow need this as human beings.' 'Mountains, large bodies of water, and canyons frequently inspire this reverence,' says Susannah Crockford, an anthropologist specializing in religion, ecology, and political economy. She adds that such geographical features often stir deep emotional responses in the human brain. 'They are very vast, very affecting.' It's not just natural features that move us. Human-built structures, like Indonesia's Borobudur Temple or Turkey's Göbekli Tepe, imbue a landscape with meaning in such a way that it creates this sense of awe, says Sabina Magliocco, a professor of anthropology and religion at the University of British Columbia. 'Cathedrals, temples, and mosques are constructed to create this sense of connection to something greater than oneself,' says Magliocco. Across cultures and centuries, we design places to hold our sense of mysticism. Human-built structures can also create a sense of connection. Photograph by Dean Conger, Nat Geo Image Collection The importance of storytelling Once a place is considered sacred, that feeling tends to linger, even if the use or message shifts. That's why we are drawn to ancient sites and why sacred places are often built upon one another, both literally and symbolically. While many of these places are extraordinary on their own, it is often the stories we tell and the rituals we repeat that make them sacred. 'People make places sacred,' Magliocco says. 'We create place through space personally.' We do this in our everyday lives, for example, by becoming regulars at coffee shops. It's our way of saying 'I belong here.' Cultures also create this sacred meaning on the larger landscape through collective storytelling. These narratives link physical locations to divine beings, heroic events, or spiritual transformations. A place becomes sacred through repetition when stories are retold and rituals reenacted. The acts themselves imprint meaning. Over time, that meaning deepens. Eventually, people build structures to house these rituals, laying foundations for sacred spaces for future generations to connect with. The lens of our viewpoint matters Why we're drawn to these mystical places often depends on whom you ask, says Crockford. Religious people might say the experience is due to God or a divine presence there. A psychologist might say the feeling is simply your brain's response to awe. An anthropologist will tell you it's society projecting itself onto its gods. 'There isn't one answer as to why these spaces are sacred. When someone tells you an answer, the answer tells you more about the person you've asked, rather than the space itself,' Crockford says. Pilgrimages can foster a deep sense of meaning and connection to a place, like the Chandragup mud volcano or the Camino de Santiago. Photograph by Matthieu Paley, Nat Geo Image Collection (Top) (Left) and Photograph by Matthieu Paley, Nat Geo Image Collection (Bottom) (Right) In that sense, sacredness is like a mirror, which helps explain why so many different people are intrigued by these spaces. People project meaning onto a site and then see their beliefs reflected back. A yogi feels energetic alignment on a quiet mountainside. A traveler walking the Camino de Santiago may feel something sacred not from the churches, but from the journey itself. Kripal agrees. It's not just the place—it's the interaction that creates the experience. 'I suspect it's a relationship between the person and the place,' he says That relationship can be self-reinforcing. The more people who report spiritual experiences at a location, the more others come seeking that same connection. That expectation, Crockford says, makes it more likely they will experience something spiritual. Machu Picchu in Peru is dotted with ancient Incan ruins. Photograph by Jonathan Irish, Nat Geo Image Collection Spiritual and mystical experiences are deeply personal That doesn't make it any less real. 'These experiences are personal and individualized. You can't run a replicable experiment to prove someone's mystical experience,' Crockford says. 'But that doesn't invalidate it.' Science, by its nature, destabilizes sacred stories. It offers a grand, cohesive narrative—like the Big Bang or evolution—that leaves less perceived room for myth. This tension has the potential to undermine the meaning of sacred places. And yet, countless people continue to experience profound, unexplainable moments at these sites. That sense of being connected to something larger than us, something enduring, is appealing and can feel rare in modern life. Sacred places meet this very human need, offering a moment outside of time and a space where the constant search for proof dissolves. The good news, Magliocco says, is that sacredness isn't limited to Machu Picchu or Stonehenge. 'We can make a meaningful place out of anywhere,' she says. 'The real mecca,' Kripal adds, 'just might be in the heart.' Tiffany Nieslanik is a freelance writer drawn to stories that begin with the question, 'Why?' With a deep curiosity for the human experience, she explores narratives at the intersection of science and personal transformation. She can usually be found wandering historic streets with her family, petting stray animals, or getting lost in a local bookstore.

How to plan an epic road trip through Baja California
How to plan an epic road trip through Baja California

National Geographic

time4 days ago

  • National Geographic

How to plan an epic road trip through Baja California

Mexico was made for road trips. Its landscapes are diverse, breathtaking, and adventure-packed, as well as filled with cultural experiences and mouthwatering cuisine. My husband and I have driven over 10,000 miles across Mexico in our RV, and while we've loved our year-and-a-half trip, one route stood out above the rest: the Baja California peninsula. Jutting off from California and wedged between the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of California, the Baja California peninsula is the ultimate road trip for adventure seekers. The journey down Highway 1 may be rough in places, but it rewards you with sweeping coastal views, quiet beaches, dramatic desert backdrops, and unforgettable experiences. You can sip wine in Mexico's largest wine region, spot gray whales on a boat tour, swing in a hammock on a secluded beach, and visit a world-class beach. Best of all, road tripping through Baja California is easily doable for U.S. and Canadian travelers. All you need is a vehicle, passport, and a plan. In this guide, I'll share some of the best stops along the route, tips we learned from experience, and why this is one Mexican road trip you don't want to miss. ("Rocky, wild and unpredictable"—why Baja California is ideal off-roading country) Prepping for the road trip There are a few things you'll need to prepare before hitting the road. First, and most importantly, is vehicle insurance. If you plan to drive a rental or your own vehicle in Mexico, you'll need special liability coverage issued by a Mexican insurance provider. It's required by law and cannot be issued by your home carrier. The cost varies but typically costs a few hundred U.S. dollars, depending on how long you'll be traveling. We spent about five months meandering through the peninsula, lingering a week or two in each destination. The more time you have, the better. However, many travelers complete the route in two weeks. 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Photograph by Hemis, Alamy Stock Photo (Top) (Left) and Photograph by Hemis, Alamy Stock Photo (Bottom) (Right) Your next stop is two hours south in the charming Pueblo Mágico (a "charming town" classification by the Mexican government) of Loreto. Once the capital of the Baja California peninsula, Loreto offers rich history, a welcoming expat community, and a walkable downtown filled with great restaurants and bars. It's easy to spend a few days here, but don't miss a boat tour through Loreto Bay National Park. This protected marine area includes five islands that host whales in the winter, along with migrating birds, endemic wildlife, and pristine beaches. Section 4: Loreto to La Paz La Paz is the capital of Baja California Sur and the state's largest city, but still has a laid-back charm. Don't miss Playa Balandra, often ranked among the world's best beaches for its shallow turquoise waters and iconic mushroom-shaped rock. 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San José del Cabo is your gateway to Baja California's major international airport and offers a mix of all-inclusive resorts and luxury stays. For a more remote beach escape, continue east to Cabo Pulmo National Park, home to one of North America's healthiest coral reefs and excellent snorkeling, before making your way back toward the border. (This Mexican health spa helped shape modern wellness travel) Liz Brumer-Smith is a Florida-based freelance writer and travel creator behind the channel Eat See TV. In 2017, she and her husband hit the road full-time in their RV with their two cats, exploring North America and documenting their adventures on YouTube and their blog. Today, Liz shares stories of food, culture, and destinations around the globe.

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