On the front cover of my metaphysical fantasy book Keys to the Heart, a fire dragon descends to meet a rising water dragon over a hexagram filled with the alchemy of their union.

On the back cover of the book, a blurb appears inside a circle of stones. The stones, if you look closely, resemble the heads of dragons. Out of the circle, the tails of the water and fire dragons emerge. The scene wrapping the book tells its origin story.

A story inspired, in many ways, by my visit to Arbor Low in Derbyshire, England nearly seven years ago with Sue, Stuart, Deb, and Nick during a Silent Eye outing. Arbor low is a Neolithic henge monument complete with a crown of stones that sits atop a hill that is now owned by a farmer. I sometimes wonder if the caretaker, who charges a mere one pound/person to visit the ancient site, knows how lucky he is to live amongst the dragon stones.

As soon as I exited the car in the lot below the mound, I felt the pull of the stones even though I could not yet see them. Deb and I helped Nick up the crest of the hill, but when we reached the top, I released him to Sue and Stuart. Sue understood how the energy magic consumes me when I visit the ancient landscapes, and here, before me, was a scene of absolute wonder. On the edge of the mound, I stood at the gateway, letting it fill my cells with memories as time slipped through space.

The stones at Arbor low are arranged in a recumbent circle, with two recumbent stones in the center. Some people think the stones once stood, and I saw the center stones as pillars; a doorway to the stars, while the ones on the ring rose up from the mound watching, protecting. The heads like dragons in wait for the Fire and Water to reunite to seed light back into the sacred womb of Earth.

I chose my path by the pull of my cells, taking each turn between the stones as though I were walking through time. “Like a clock.” When I completed the circle of the face, I was filled with a vision of magic that felt so alive I could not contain it. I felt like a lost soul finding home, once again, in the vast sea of the universe.

It was here, in Arbor Low, where I found the essence of the narrative that had been weaving its labyrinth inside of me.

As a writer, I am often asked about my process. Usually I keep the answer simple, “I am not a plotter, I let the story guide me.” The truth is, quite often I cannot explain what I write until I experience it for myself. Images and names will come to me, and sometimes entire scenes, and I will put them on the page only to discover later, why.

Standing at Arbor Low, nearly seven years ago, my body was re-awakened to the alchemical energy of the universe. Here, I experienced the magic of natural forces concentrated in the land. An energy so strong it transcended time and space. Arbor Low, like other ancient sacred sites, is a place where the complex theories of physics and math make sense. It is a place where magic is tangible and achievable without fantasy.

By the end of the day, I understood why I was so driven to write a story about six thirteen-year-olds who were drawn into a mysterious hexagram filled with broken lines of light to save a broken planet and a broken mother. By the end of the day, during which I visited three ancient sites with the Silent Eye group, I felt the wholeness of reunion in away I had never experienced in this lifetime. Inside of me joy danced with sorrow like I had finally come home.

So while I may have written two books, with a third in process, that are in the genre of fantasy, their essence is the magic of life through the lens of my own experiences. I have a feeling this is how many stories arise through us. We may doubt their origins, but the seeds they sow thread truth in an attempt to bring us home to ourselves.