Echoes in Stone: A Personal Journey into Ancient Circles
Memory, Mystery, and the Sacred
by Paul Robear

There’s something about stone circles that calls to me. They are a fascinating aspect of our human story—timeless and evocative. Found across the globe, they are most concentrated and mysterious in Europe. These megaliths—massive stones raised by human hands—date back to the Neolithic period, roughly 4500 to 2500 BC, and even earlier in some places.

It’s now estimated that more than 35,000 megalithic sites survive in Europe alone. These include tombs, alignments, individual standing stones, stone circles, and megalithic temples. They weren’t placed randomly—many align with the movements of the sun and stars, perhaps serving as calendars or ceremonial spaces. But what strikes me most is the sheer scale of the effort. Generations of people must have carried stones, measured sightlines, dug postholes, and gathered in ritual. Why? My thoughts are that there is a longing in the depth of the human spirit—a desire to connect and define the sacred.

Just recently, archaeologists uncovered submerged stone circles off the coast of northern Scotland, dating back an astonishing 11,000 years—far older than any previously known. These were built when the land now underwater was still dry and inhabited. To imagine our ancestors shaping stones and placing them with intention so long ago only deepens the mystery.

Many believe stones possess a kind of animation. They seem to have distinct personalities, as though they speak to us. Folktales abound with stories of their agency—bringing bad luck if disturbed, or even moving on their own.

I’ve felt the magic of standing within megalithic circles myself. It inspired me to build a 30-foot stone circle of my own—ten stones, each ten feet apart, with some reaching as high as nine feet tall. It’s deeply gratifying to share this space with others who speak of feeling a profound connection when standing within it.

These structures are more than archaeological puzzles. They are touchstones—literally and figuratively—of our human journey. They remind me that long before we built cities, we built meaning into the land. And somehow, across the ages, those intentions still echo.

When Laura and I stand within our own stone circle at sunrise or beneath a full moon, there is a feeling of being part of something vast and ancient. It’s as if time folds in on itself, and for a moment, we are not just remembering the past—we are participating in it.