Sacred travel isn’t about escape—it’s about relationship.

Long before I ever stepped on a plane for my first big adventure, I was taught that travel begins with intention. I was seventeen, preparing to leave the U.S. for a year-long student exchange in Norway, and I was given one piece of advice from the organizers I’ve never been able to shake:

“Only bring what you can carry. No one will be able to help you.”

That was it.

A sentence heavy with consequence.

So, I packed light.

One suitcase. One carry-on. A whole year of life. Every item had to matter, and I had to leave space because I wasn’t sure what I’d need to carry back.

What no one told me was that the heaviest thing I’d bring home would be me. The version of myself I couldn’t yet imagine—but who was waiting for me across the ocean.

And that advice, blunt and practical, (and very Norwegian!) would become a life philosophy.

A kind of spell I still return to, again and again:

What am I carrying?
Is it mine?
Is it worth the weight?
Do I need to leave space for something more?

This is the kind of travel magic I believe in. Not the kind you buy in matching luggage sets, or schedule between flights, or filter through someone else’s Instagram lens. But the kind that shapes who you are, if you let it.

That simple phrase became a spell I’ve carried with me ever since. Because real travel, the kind that touches the soul, changes you.

Travel as A Spell

There is magic in every journey—whether it’s a summer road trip, a weekend at the seaside, or a walk to the nearest forest edge.

But that magic doesn’t live in bucket lists or tour itineraries. It lives in how we meet a place.

Do we show up empty-handed and entitled? Or with reverence and curiosity?

Animist travel begins with the idea that the land is alive—and watching. That spirits dwell not just in temples or ancient ruins, but in roadside wildflowers, village fountains, and stormy skies.

It’s a remembering:

  • To bring an offering, not just a camera.

 To greet the stones like elders, not props.

  To listen for what the land is saying before we ask it for anything.

Travel, when done with reverence, becomes spellwork. And like all true magic, it changes the one who casts it.

Animist Travel in a Loud World

Modern tourism is loud.

Every summer, I see it here in Sardinia—a land sacred to shepherds and sea folk, matriarchs and megaliths become overwhelmed by traffic, entitlement, and Instagram.

People forget that not everyone here is on vacation. That we’re not all performers in someone else’s dream.

Animist travel softens the edges. It asks us to step out of consumption and into relationship.

You don’t need a suitcase full of crystals or a flawless itinerary. You need only a willingness to slow down and ask: What lives here that I cannot see? What does this land remember? What does it want me to know?


Cultural Exchange, Not Consumption

What if we treated every trip as a mini cultural exchange program?

Not just sightseeing—but soul-seeing.
Not just tasting local food—but learning where it came from and who still grows it.
Not just standing in front of ruins—but wondering whose ancestors are buried beneath them, and whether they’re still being honored.

And if your ancestors are buried there, bring them an offering, speak to them in a few sentences of their mother tongue, and if you have them, introduce your children to them.

Real magic comes when we stop trying to take something from a place and start asking what we can offer back. Sometimes that offering is literal—money well spent, infusing the local economy or a bunch of wild rosemary or breadcrumbs left by a spring.

Other times, it’s a gesture:

• Learning how to say “hello” and “thank you” in the local language.

• Supporting local artists and vendors instead of global chains.

• Respecting the locals by treating them like someone’s grandmother. Because she probably is.

A Simple Travel Spell

Before your next trip, try this:

1. Light a candle or touch the earth.
2. Say aloud: “I am going to a new place. May I walk gently. May I honor the lives and stories that came before me.”
3. Make a small offering—a flower, a coin, a piece of bread, or a few words of gratitude.
4. Ask: “What would you have me carry into this journey? What must I leave behind?”

Let the answers come as they will. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be willing to listen.

Coming Home to the World

Whether you’re traveling far or just beyond your back door, there is always a way to root yourself in magic. To move through the world as a guest, not a conqueror. As a listener, not a collector. As someone in conversation with life.

This is the essence of sacred travel.

And it’s the heart of the Animist Atlas, part of my High Summer Package—a seasonal offering filled with rituals, recipes, and reflections for those who want to stay grounded in ancestral rhythm, wherever summer takes them.

From rituals and offerings to cultural exchange and spellwork for the road, the High Summer Package is an invitation to move through this season with presence, reverence, and joy.

Because this world doesn’t need more tourists.
It needs more pilgrims.
More rememberers.
More people willing to walk as if the land is alive—because it is.