✴️ Rekindling the Axis

From megalith to therapist – fragments of a vertical memory

🌊 Prologue – The Water That Rises

There is a secret that only a patient gaze can perceive: that of the salmon which, during its return journey, swims upstream to the place of its birth. It has been seen leaping vertically, clearing waterfalls several meters high — seemingly without the muscle strength to do so.

Viktor Schauberger, a visionary forester, did not believe in an animal miracle. For him, this impossible leap was the sign of another law. Living water, he believed, at certain places, does not merely flow downward: it spirals, implodes, and generates a natural ascending force — a kind of levitation inherent to life. The salmon does not force; it aligns.

“The salmon does not jump.
It aligns.
It follows a forgotten vertical force.”

What Schauberger sensed, others — long before him — may not have known, but they felt. And they inscribed it in stone. Perhaps they didn’t name this force, but they shaped it, aligned it, channeled it. Perhaps the ancient builders did not lift the blocks but accompanied them in their own vertical impulse — just like the salmon in its waterfall.

🪨 Poulnabrone – The Vertical Stone Lives

I visited a dolmen. Not just any — Poulnabrone. It stands on limestone ground, swept by wind, cloaked in mist. Nothing seemed to move. And yet.

From afar — no reaction. The pendulum hung still, as if the stone were just a dead relic. I expected resonance — a wave, a tension — but there was nothing.

This energetic void surprised me. It contradicted everything I had felt about such places. And out of this incomprehension, another question spontaneously arose:

What if the axis to explore is not horizontal, but vertical?

I expected nothing. I simply shifted my attention — like turning one’s gaze inward. And there, along the north-south alignment, a tension appeared. No diffuse radiation, no circular ripple. A precise vertical energetic axis, exactly aligned with the dolmen. The pendulum, suspended in this invisible line, began to swing. Not in circles — but drawn upward.

It was no effect. It was a call. And what if this monument was not just a tomb or an astronomical marker? What if it was erected where the Earth still remembers how to rise?

⛰️ When Gravity Reverses

🪨 Almendres, Portugal

Unlike Poulnabrone, the Almendres site in Portugal did not surprise me with silence. From 300 meters away, the pendulum responded. But it was not a beam, nor a single pulse. It was concentric waves, spaced regularly, like the ripples around a stone dropped into water. But here, the center was not a moment — it was a presence. As if the very act of standing stones had created an ongoing impact. As if we were not facing a trace of ancient energy — but the current effect of an active event we are still part of.

🧱 Abu Rawash, Egypt

At Abu Rawash, a 100-ton sarcophagus lies in a niche so narrow it could not have passed through the corridor leading to it. No crane could have entered, no modern machinery could have maneuvered it in. It is there. It remains. It asks us not how it came, but from what logic it was placed — a logic no longer ours. Perhaps not a lifting, but a resonance.

🇹 Göbekli Tepe, Turkey

At Göbekli Tepe, immense T-shaped stones rise from the earth. Their presence defies the agricultural timeline. Here we are in 9500 BCE — long before the Egyptian pyramids. And yet, the vertical gesture is already there: a stone that stands not just to mark, but to connect — to rise, and make rise.

🌧️ Interlude – Ripples Around a Presence

There is a recurring intuition among sensitives and dowsers: that of stones or places that do not emit energy but organize space. They are not batteries. They are structuring events. Around them, energy circulates differently. And sometimes, it seems to respond to us — to our very presence, our breath, our silence.

☂️ The Forgetting of the Vertical – Myth and Memory

The great epic of Gilgamesh, one of the earliest known human texts, speaks of an axis, of a gate, of a descent and a return. It is not history. It is architecture — of meaning, of memory, of orientation. What if humanity’s true trauma was not the Fall, but the loss of this inner axis?

🧕 Transition – The Body as a Suspended Axis

Every therapist knows: there is no healing without verticality. When the spine curves, when the breath shortens, when the gaze drops — the being collapses. And every therapist knows: healing is not pushing, it is restoring the axis.

The hand — grotesquely overrepresented in the brain’s sensory map — becomes the tool of this vertical call. The hand that touches, listens, aligns. The hand that becomes a witness, not a master.

🧹 Conclusion – The Vertical Therapist

All this would remain poetic reverie if it did not concern our health, our bodies, our time. The vertical is not a theory. It is a daily test. When we lose it, we fall ill. When we find it, the body breathes again.

The therapist is not a priest of the invisible. He is a witness of the axis. He listens to the vertical — in the spine, the breath, the tone of the voice. He does not impose energy. He aligns. He facilitates what wants to rise again. What never died, but was waiting.

It is not a return to the ancient. It is the present that becomes ancient again.

🌿 In Lieu of an Open Ending

There will be time to quote, to document, to compare. But for now, let us listen to the stone — and to the silence that rises through it.