Love Your Enemies: Pilgrimage for Grief

A Journey of Healing

This pilgrimage began as a collaboration between Jolie and a remarkable woman she had once trained with in the art of fooling. Their relationship had been fractured for over a decade, with a profound falling out that seemed irreparable. Yet, in their shared practice of fooling, they had learned a profound truth: we are all one. This woman, despite being seen as an “enemy,” was simply a reflection of Jolie herself—a mirror in the grand play called Life.

Over time, their paths crossed again, and the two decided to embark on this pilgrimage together as an act of reconciliation. They hoped their journey would not only heal their friendship but also symbolise a mending of the broader divides we face—between left and right, rich and poor, male and female, people of colour and white people, remainers and leavers.

However, ruled by the unpredictable energy of Eris, the Goddess of Discord, Jolie's friend inadvertently scheduled conflicting work commitments, leaving Jolie to walk alone. What began as a shared endeavour transformed into an intensely personal journey.

During the five-week walk along the Michael and Mary energy lines, Jolie was carrying grief, having lost four loved ones during lockdown. On top of this, her husband of 13 years ended their marriage in the first week. The walk became an exploration of her own resilience and healing.

Jolie had heard of the Michael and Mary energy lines but didn’t fully understand them. As she slowed her pace to truly listen, she discovered the unique qualities of these energies. The Michael line brought courage and a sense of support, like a steady hand on her back whispering, “You’ve got this.” The Mary line offered calm and nurturing stillness, a hand over her heart murmuring, “I’ve got you.” Through the journey, she deepened her connection to the land, discovering the profound art of listening.

Listening extended to the people she met along the way. As a pilgrim, Jolie found herself becoming a “travelling confessional,” where strangers would initially air frustrations about politics or Brexit but eventually opened up about their deeper fears, grief, and loneliness. What stood out most was the kindness she encountered—people doing their best to navigate a challenging world. This journey overflowed with empathy, restoring Jolie’s faith in humanity.

Today, Jolie lives on Sark, a car-free, light-pollution-free island in the Channel Islands, with her new partner. Surrounded by untouched nature and a community of just 400 people, this island and the love she found there feels like a gift from the land—a blessing bestowed by the energies of Michael and Mary.

In gratitude for what she received, Jolie planned a second pilgrimage to COP26 the following year, offering her journey as a gift back to the Earth.

Explore her video blog playlist hereand join the journey of connection, healing, and listening.

Jolie has written an autofiction novel about this journey, called Walking With Autumn; Pilgrimage for Grief, which she hopes to find a publisher for in the new year.

‘Ailsa’s Well lurked low in the shadows, unassumingly, almost hidden, nestled beneath the thicket and submerged in moss. It was a modest little water feature, sitting directly on the Mary energy line, with a small opening marked out by ancient granite stones. Ribbons of prayers and offerings hung from the surrounding trees. The guidebook said the well was on land owned by a man named Trevor Rogers, who’d written a book on the evidence he’d compiled showing that the site had been an ancient place of Goddess worship. The air felt charged and the waters were fresh and clear. I pulled out my trusty piece of string and cut it up into bits, giving a piece to each of my comrades. Ever since reading Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching stories, I’d always carried a piece of string in my bum bag. If this makes no sense to you, then you have some reading to do.

We each took a piece and made a prayer, tying our string to a nearby branch. I prayed for protection on my journey and asked for a blessing from the Goddess…

The light in the leafy alcove twinkled with ancient mystery. I quietly lowered myself to my knees at the water’s edge, in the reverential stillness it commanded of me. My fingers drifted through the mottled mirrored image of gunnera leaves and blackthorn needles, rippling my reflection out across the hedgerow, drifting off into the land.

“Please keep me safe,” I whispered to the water. Only a few days from now, I would be walking through Devon on my own, my friends having departed, and I had to admit that part of me was terrified.

With my fingers in the freezing waters of the holy spring, I felt as if the ancestors were crowding in, and the light was thickening in their presence. 

‘I’m so proud of you,’ whispered her Nanny in her ear, ‘I’m in awe of the brave woman you’ve become.’

‘She’s always been a little madam!’ Piped up her Great Nanny Peagram, who meant this with pride, ‘Her eyes always flashed at me whenever I told her off.’

‘Just make sure you take care of yourself and don’t get into any blasted trouble,’ worried her Granddad, who knew the minds of men and feared for her safety. 

‘She will be safe,’ soothed a voice that floated through their collective souls like white satin. 

The Lady of the Spring stepped forward and whispered in her ear,

‘We’ve got you, little one.’ 

Finding my heart filled with a sudden sense of assurance, I dried my hands, and safely extracted myself from the enclosure.’