For thousands of years in the Celtic world, people understood ley lines. They have a different meaning now, but in those days that these energy lines were the routes that faery folk took in their trooping journeys.
Interestingly enough, there is an odd modern equivalent marketing experts call desire lines. They have nothing obvious to do with Earth energies, but a lot to do with human movement. Desire lines are lines of debris tossed away along routes that people use but that have no transportation systems on then.
Coming home after over two weeks in the hospital, I’ve noticed desire lines AND Energy Lines right in my apartment. They have to do with our movements, the times of day we go to certain rooms, what we put down and when, and also such things as the lines of energy made when Whitley, say, smudges with sage and cedar, which we have started doing.
I think that I brought some of my personal desire lines home from the hospital, and I’m careful to step around monuments such as the tall coat tree next to the front door. As I return to normal movement and normal life, I bring with my recovery a new awareness of such objects. I always just took them for granted before, but when you might or might not notice something in the normal way, everything takes on new significance.
I also interpret my journeys differently. For instance, the other day I was doing physical therapy at the hospital. The therapist put down 10 colored cones on the floor of a hallway, and had me walk from one to the other and point them out.
I suddenly found myself saying ‘no, no, you can’t have 10, you have to have 12.’ The reason was an odd one, but sensible to me: it was close to Easter, and there were lines that I could see that had to do with fertility. Easter eggs represent unfertilized wombs, eggs that have been unused. The Easter basket represents the womb. Since a woman has 12 periods a year, she has 12 chances to use her eggs.
The therapist didn’t get it, but on a very deep level, we all do. It’s why we put 12 eggs in a carton, for example. Old wisdom—so old that it’s been forgotten.