Ancient Mystery Quest

An Ancient Mystery hidden in the sacred South of France has been at the center of my life for nearly a decade now, but this era is coming to an end.

Heretic Happy Hour is tonight, and this month’s theme is Nature Magic! Join us Thursday, August 22 at 5:30 PDT / 8:30 EDT for a powerful exploration of what Nature Magic looks like and how it works for different people.

If you’re new here, welcome! Secrets of a Magical Life is a space to explore the invisible, magical worlds hidden beneath and between our everyday reality and learn the skills of living a magical life. A place where it’s safe to be weird, whimsical, curious, creative, geeky, witchy, wild, magical, and deeply human. Here, we embark together on an adventure into the past… into our own hearts… and into the Unknown to train our magic and become the extraordinary being humans were always meant to be.

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Gammie (70) climbing the mountain of Ste Baume, where Mary Magdalene is said to have lived the last 30 years of her life.

The Adventure of a Lifetime

Years ago, my grandmother and I ran off together on an epic adventure following the trail of Mary Magdalene through France.

Tracing rumor and legend through the landscape—from mountaintop sanctuaries to ancient crypts—we could feel the ancient secrets hiding just out of sight.

It was an amazing journey, but at the end of it, we were left with more questions than answers. So the next time we returned to France, we hired the Mystery Man himself.

Here’s an excerpt from The Heretic describing our first meeting with fictitious details altered to mirror reality:

“Sir [Henry Lincoln] looked as old as anyone I’d ever known and not a day over forty-two at the same time. The all-weather waistcoat he wore smelled of leather-bound books and decades-old smoke. His white shock of hair was thinning and brittle, flying in every direction at the slightest breeze. Sunken in pockets around the eyes and cheeks, the old knight’s face was weatherworn, but his complexion was rosy and healthy. His [oceanic blue eyes] were bright and focused. Curious, intelligent, they belied his age and made me think rather of the too-big eyes of an infant. Well into his eighties, it was clear this man was still exceptionally sharp.”

As the co-author of Holy Blood, Holy Grail—the non-fiction book that inspired The DaVinci Code—Henry Lincoln offered tours to anyone curious enough to come and learn about the codes he’d found in the church and landscape around Rennes-le-Château. We met up at the hilltop hamlet buried in the foothills of the Pyrenees, where he spent his later years sifting through the conspiracy theorists and treasure hunters who had come to plague his existence, quietly searching for someone to carry on the legacy of his work.

The old man led my grandmother and I on the same tour he gave every tourist and visitor to the region, but as he walked us step by step through his revelatory discoveries, I could feel my entire worldview slowly unravelling. The truth was more beautiful than anything I’d imagined. I could only listen, rapt, as my whole life changed.

I don’t know whether Sir Henry heard the quiver of awe in my voice or saw my eyes shining with magic, but he must have noticed the way my jaw dropped to the garden floor. 

This is earth-shattering! Life-changing! Magical!

I could feel the reality of our ancestors' secrets rushing through my blood. Sir Henry Lincoln never missed a thing. He must have noticed immediately that my long training in ancient magic led me to naturally understand his discovery in a way few others did.

“Sir” Henry Lincoln overlooking the Valley of God from the hilltop hamlet of Rennes-le-Château.

As our guided tour ended, the old man laid an arm on my shoulder and leaned in too close. His white shock of hair danced in the wind above bright eyes that shone with hope and mischief. He took a quiet step toward me, standing so close I could smell the smoke on his breath. I wanted to pull away, but his gaze held me immobile. Everything hushed as the words fell between us.

“Il faut que tu reviennes,” the old knight whispered. “J’ai besoin de toi.”

As I stood there in the gravel parking lot overlooking the Valley of God, there was no way I could have known that this moment would change the entire trajectory of my life.

His words rang through my consciousness with finality—You must come back. I need you.

Answering the Call

A few days later, I dropped my grandmother off at the airport in Paris and drove eight hours back down to the Languedoc.

“The drive to [Sir Henry’s place] was surprisingly exciting, filled with hairpin curves, sharp gullies, and massive rock walls. The speed limits were set astoundingly high, and I felt like a race car driver as I flew through the landscape. Bouncing up the rocky private drive, I parked in front of a grand house whose years were written in [the soft patina of time that had smoothed each stone of the facade.] Trimmed with thick wooden beams, the front porch overlooked the expanse of the Razès Valley decked in [brilliant summer greens.]”

(Excerpt from The Heretic with fictitious details altered to mirror reality)

Suddenly nervous as I parked the rental car at the end of of the long gravel driveway, I wondered what the old man could possible want from me. 

Was his invitation serious? Did he really expect me to show up on his doorstep like this? What was I doing?

My intuition was screaming, "This is amazing! I can’t believe this is really happening!"

What this was remained to be seen, but the opportunity was too INSANE to pass up. The man whose real life story had inspired The DaVinci Code wanted my help with ancient secrets and hidden codes. If I didn’t drop everything and accept the invitation to join Sir Henry’s treasure hunt, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

Sir Henry immediately came out to greet me as I climbed from the car, leading me to a small bistro table on the front porch. He sat down across from me and slowly pulled a pack of French cigarettes and a lighter from his many-pocketed down waistcoat. Staring out over the mountains, he slowly lit his cigarette without a word.

With a dramatic exhale of smoke that wreathed his face, he asked at last, "So, how are we gonna tell them out there?" He gestured toward the folds of Pyrenean foothill that surrounded us with the butt-end of his cigarette, speaking of the world at large from within the safety of his own private haven.

"Tell them what?" was the only thing I could say.

Not for the first time, I saw a charismatic and mysterious glimmer rise in his bright blue eyes. "You'll See," he said quietly. "You have to See it for yourself." His voice was low and serious, articulate Queen’s English ringing through the garden with subtle attention to timing, words delivered with cadence and measure.

On the Trail of Mystery

Time spent with Sir Henry passed in a blur. Each day, he led me through the landscape in what seemed to be a calculated pattern, never telling me what I would find.

The sites we visited were stunning, and my experiences grew more magical every day, but any questions I asked seemed to fall on deaf ears, as if my queries were so ridiculous they weren't worth acknowledging. He left me to bumble in the dark, wondering what I was supposed to See, while trying desperately to appear intelligent enough not to make a fool of myself in front of this brilliant scholar.

Exploring sacred landscapes on the trail of Mystery.

He wanted me to encounter the Mystery as he had—exploring one site at a time… immersed in my own questions... with nothing to guide me but clues and intuition.

I don't know exactly when it happened. There was no single moment of epiphany, but I began to understand the Mystery in a whole new way. I began to See what Sir Henry couldn't say. And I began to feel in my bones why he had chosen me.

Sharing the Truth

He charged me with writing a book to tell the world the real story of what he had found, including how magical the scientific reality of his discoveries must have been for our ancestors. It took me seven years to research and write The Heretic, and I am currently working on the second installation in the trilogy.

Together we founded Sacred Mystery Tours, a boutique company creating bespoke adventures for those ready to journey into Mystery. For almost a decade, we led small groups of seekers on the path of discovery into the sacred Mysteries of history. Now, this era is coming to a close.

Sir Henry and I worked closely together for almost a decade—I was honored to call him my mentor and friend.

Sir Henry Lincoln died in 2022, but not before charging me with continuing his legacy.

It’s an interesting thing to be charged with sharing an ancient secret with the world and continuing the legacy of discovery of one who spend their life searching for the Truth. For the past several years, I’ve been expected to continue on in the same thread that Sir Henry did… researching this one tiny area of France and obsessing ad nauseam over the same pieces of tired evidence.

Even as I begin to dive more deeply into sequel, The Martyr, it’s clear that my adventures are leading beyond the bounds of the Languedoc. My work and my research includes new histories, new Mysteries, new ancient secrets, new magic. I feel myself being called to Ireland… to the Greek Isles… to Egypt.. to the Holy Land. The Mystery is growing and so am I.

Right now, I am preparing to lead my final Ancient Mystery Quests in the Sacred South of France. It is beautiful, sad, exciting to imagine moving beyond this insanely wonderful adventure I created with Sir Henry Lincoln… but I know it’s time.

Our fall adventure is all set to go, and I’m already spending my days preparing my binder, reviewing histories, and planning tiny details. I’ll be leaving on September 23 for a month abroad in the sacred South of France, and I hope to somehow bring all of you with me.

The legendary “Cathar” fortress of Montségur.

I know my writing won’t be able to continue in the same way while I am on the road, but I’m looking forward to finding creative ways to share the adventure with you and the powerful magic of the places I will be visiting.

Thank you for joining me, dear Heretic, on this turning of the page—which may be a small thing for you, but for me is the end of a beautiful era.

Next spring will be my final Ancient Mystery Quest in this format. If you feel called toward this phenomenal sacred, historical, and cultural adventure, let me know and we can explore together if the Quest is right for you.

Sir Henry exploring a little-known cave on a very specific spot.

Honoring Sir Henry Lincoln 1930-2022