The Magical Tree at Warwick Castle
A quiet moment of power and grace with an ancient Tree
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I remember the first time I heard about tree-huggers. I was just a kid and hadn’t experienced enough of the world and its mysteries to begin to contemplate the seemingly absurd. No, there was definitely no tree-hugging in my young world and because I was living in a highly toxic family situation, there wasn’t even any people-hugging in it.
I couldn’t possibly have imagined the winding, often bewildering journey that lay ahead, a journey that would one day lead me to an incredible, magical moment with one particular Tree.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Growing up in an environment of constant fear, I was always waiting for the next attack or violation. So by the age of 8, I was having terrifying panic attacks in the middle of the night, made worse by not knowing what was happening to me.
When I hit 16, I’d had enough of my insane environment and I left home, thinking, “Woohoo! I’m leaving all that insanity behind and I’m going to live happily ever after!” To be honest, every time I think about that now, I shake my head and laugh.
I was such a babe in the woods, so naive to think I could just walk away from 16 years of warped “education” about myself, the world, and relationships — and suddenly be happy. After being taught I was worthless, unimportant, stupid, responsible for other people’s feelings, and deserving of the worst violations, how could I possibly believe I deserved happiness — or even basic kindness? My view of “love” was poison at best.
In my late teens, I was already a divorced single parent (for the first of too many times) and struggling with a load of anxiety disorders. I had OCD that manifested in a series of 24-hour miseries — frequent hand-washing, scrubbing clean dishes before I could use them, and more.
I had become agoraphobic, which made it exceptionally horrible to have to go out to work and do all the things I needed to do as a single mum. The more places in which I had panic attacks, the fewer “safe places” there were to go. I barely made it to work and back. I was so relieved when I found a job I could do from home.
During my marriage, I had begun what would ultimately become a 9-year battle with anorexia. I was frighteningly thin. And eventually, in a desperate attempt to cope with this and the other anxiety disorders, I developed an addiction.
Around the same time, my physical health began to suffer. Our bodies aren’t built to carry fear for years on end. The stress hormones that once helped me survive were now slowly dismantling me.
By the time I was 20, I was a complete mess in every way.
As my journey toward physical healing began, over the next decade I managed to overcome the anxiety disorders, and the resulting addiction. But my toxic childhood had planted the seeds for a series of, shall we say… colourful choices — ones that took me down some strange and twisted paths.
For years, the events of my life could rival any soap opera. People would call and say, “I’m afraid to ask, but what’s new?” And unfortunately, there were usually plenty of hair-raising tales to tell. I’m sure it was harrowing for my family and friends to watch from the sidelines — unable to do a thing to stop it. It didn’t matter that I was trying to improve my life. To anyone on the outside looking in, things just kept going from bad to worse. Time and time again, there I was, seemingly hell-bent on careening down a steep hill on a bicycle at a high rate of speed with a brick wall at the bottom.
In the midst of all of that, I never gave up my search for happiness. I never stopped trying to make my life better. I had a powerful vision of the happiness I sought. But it was like stumbling through a dark forest with a blindfold on — no map, no compass — just spinning in circles, dizzy and disoriented, with no clue where happiness lived or how to reach it.
My search for physical healing ran parallel to something else — though I didn’t know it at the time. I just knew I felt lost, disconnected… like something wasn’t right. I test-drove a bunch of religions, without realising that what I was actually seeking was something I couldn’t yet name — a spiritual connection.
Somewhere along the way, I’d given up on conventional medicine and had begun trying alternative healing modalities such as acupuncture, reiki and others that brought the concept of “energy” into my life in a completely new way.
It was around this time that the light went on. My search for healing and happiness revealed an energetic connection — between everyone and everything, across the planet, the universe, and beyond.
My physical health had been deteriorating for years, though I didn’t yet grasp how long the road back would be after decades of unrelenting stress and chaos. But at least I felt like I would figure out how to fix my life, my health — and find my way to happiness and fulfillment, even if it wasn’t going to be overnight.
I was in my 30s. I was underweight, a non-smoker, with an extremely healthy diet. I got loads of exercise and rarely drank alcohol. Blood pressure was a little low, if anything. And suddenly, without warning, I had my first heart attack.
My doctor said it was simply from the overwhelming stress of my life, with nothing but crises and turmoil since I came out of the chute, so to speak. There were no risk factors; there was no particular “disease.” But I was significantly ill with unstable angina. My doc was a straight shooter. He looked at me and said, “Go home and update your Will.”
Right. Okay, then.
It wasn’t my first up-close look at my own mortality but it was going to be one that dragged on for years. There were glimmers of false hope now and then — brief stretches when I could climb the stairs without stopping to rest, or even just walk across a room without struggling to breathe — but the hope never lasted. I’d end up back in bed, heart hammering, lungs clawing for air.
Meanwhile, there was a whole lot of “life stuff” to clean up — like yet another toxic marriage and the fallout from it, along with the usual nuclear waste from past choices.
Nope, this wasn’t going to be a quick fix. And it was going to get a whole lot worse before it ever got better.
I managed to keep going, and now and then I’d have periods of relative wellness. Homeopathy had eliminated many of my ailments and was also healing some of the long-standing emotional scars I carried so I began a 4-year course of study to become a classical homeopath.
My heart trouble was stubborn. A few highly reputable homeopaths took a crack at it, including Misha Norland, the principal of my school (with the school having one of the best reputations worldwide). He was incredibly bright, and a gifted homeopath. He had even taught some of the people who wrote our textbooks that are used in homeopathy schools around the world.
But with homeopathy being highly complex and individualised, sometimes the correct remedy prescription can stump even the best experts.
After one particularly brutal period of several months — and after I’d finished my studies and become a practitioner — I finally figured out the correct remedy. Almost immediately, my symptoms vanished and I was free of all heart trouble for more than five years.
In the preceding years, I had also been diving deeper into my journey as a practicing witch — exploring life-enhancing spiritual pursuits that lit me up from within.
Gradually, I was cleaning up my life — though there were definitely moments of two steps forward, one (or more) back.
I was beginning to understand who I was — getting a glimpse of my capabilities, my gifts for the first time. I was starting to see a clearer picture of what I wanted, and how I might get there. So I stayed focused on that vision, no matter what.
I’d also ended up meeting Mr Wonderful — or so I’d thought — on the other side of the planet. I moved to England, married him, and truly thought I’d finally found my happily ever after. I was blissful in our idyllic life, enjoying the peace and beauty of our old stone cottage in the English countryside.
It seemed too good to be true.
And you know what they say about that.
Out of the blue, I was hit with two massive emotional shocks that left me reeling. My beautiful marriage and romantic life came to an abrupt end.
About two weeks later, my heart problem returned suddenly — and with a vengeance.
The day my health crashed again, I was deeply distressed. I couldn’t believe I’d been thrown back into that dark place. I repeated the remedy that had given me more than five years without heart symptoms, but this time it didn’t work.
Homeopathy is as much an art as it is a science, and remedy selection is based on the mental and emotional root of the symptoms. The root cause this time wasn’t the same as it had been before.
Utterly devastated, I was back to square one, with none of my remedy choices yielding more than brief results.
I’d made arrangements to visit Warwick Castle with a friend but on that morning, I was feeling particularly ill. My face was drawn and grey; I looked at least as sick as I felt. I considered cancelling our day out, but thought perhaps the distraction would be good for me.
So off we went — but not without several heart remedies in my handbag.
I had difficulty getting through the Castle and grounds as my heart struggled for oxygen. Breathing was hard. I was utterly exhausted, dragging myself along and trying to keep a smile on my face for my friend. Halfway round the grounds, I looked through an archway and saw the most incredible oak tree, tall, striking and haunted-house eerie, just begging me to come and touch its ancient, ivy-covered trunk. The Tree appeared to be dead. After all, it was May in England; it should have been flourishing yet there wasn’t a leaf on it. Still, it was absolutely magnificent.
It had been many years since I’d first heard of those crazy, hippie tree-huggers, and although I’d learned more about why people hug trees — and had a fairly open mind — I’d never felt compelled to give it a shot. But that day, it was as though the Tree had summoned me. Not just with beauty or curiosity, but with something deeper — something ancient. Something that pulled me like a magnet. As if it knew I needed it.
I couldn’t resist. I wrapped my arms around its ancient trunk and rested my cheek against its rough, ivy-covered bark.
That’s when I felt it — a surge of something powerful — warm, electric, and alive — rushing up through the ground, into the Tree, and then straight into me. Energy moved through me like it had a purpose.
It was a beautiful, tingling feeling — and I couldn’t pull away for several minutes. I swear it was holding me. Not just physically — energetically. Lovingly. As though it had called me there for this.
I was happy to rest against its ancient bark for a while. And there I stood, enjoying the magic of the Tree’s warm, steady presence — and what felt like a deliberate gift of healing.
When it was done with me — and yes, it truly felt like it decided when — I stepped away, and something had shifted. My body felt lighter. My spirit had breath again. I bounced through the rest of the day like a child released from a long, dark spell.
I was astonished by what had happened — but mostly, I was deeply grateful, and soaking up every second of feeling better. My friend had taken a photo of me during my “Tree Time”, saying I looked 20 years younger. Later, I received similar comments from other friends who saw the picture.
I wish I could say the Tree healed me for good that day. I did become well some years later — after a breaking point, a meltdown, and a vow that I would heal myself. I was fed up with being ill, and after thinking of people who have cured themselves of cancer or other diseases, I swore I would heal myself. (I did, here’s the book about it)
So began a process of research and experimentation, and my experience with the Tree years earlier played a significant role in putting together many pieces of the complex puzzle of what makes us ill and what makes us well. Einstein proved that everything in the universe is energy — from the solid world we see and touch to the unseen workings of our minds. It’s all patterns, all vibration.
All of us are a part of that energy, and that includes the magnificent Tree that shared its healing magic with me. Its roots are firmly planted in Mother Earth. Her nutrients — and her vibrant, pulsing energy — rise up through the Tree’s roots, trunk, and branches.
And on that day at Warwick Castle, that energy flowed from the Tree straight into me, too.
I’ve often reflected on that moment — not with confusion, but with reverence.
Because now I understand what I couldn’t back then:
The Tree didn’t just happen to be there. It didn’t just look inviting.
It called me.
It was part of the Divine design — a sacred encounter between my aching spirit and the ancient wisdom of the Earth herself.
The energy that flowed through that Tree was the same energy I had come to know through years of spiritual practice — through spells, rituals, connection with the elements, and the quiet whisperings of my soul.
This wasn’t imagination. It wasn’t metaphor. It was a moment of alignment. A moment of grace.
The universe knew what I needed. The Tree knew.
And I was finally ready to receive it.
To this day, I carry the Tree’s energy with me — quiet, steady, and alive beneath the surface — reminding me of who I am, and how deeply I am held.
A bit about dear Misha and the incredible legacy he left (that’s Misha with now-King Charles at Highgrove in 2017, with other faculty members)
A note to my dear friend, — Thank you for requesting this story. Better late than never? One down, one to go…
🏰🌳💔💫✨⚡️🌱🤍🌿🎁❤️
