There are places on this Earth that feel like doorways to another time. The island of La Gomera, hidden in the vast Atlantic, is one such place. Deep within the Garajonay National Park, there grows a forest older than human memory – a laurel forest, a living relic from a time when dinosaurs had just vanished, and humans were not even a thought.
The moist ocean air rises from the sea, cloaking the moss-covered trees in ethereal mist. It’s quiet here. And yet, you don’t feel alone. This ancient forest, known as Laurisilva, once covered much of Southern Europe. Today, it survives only in a few sacred places – with La Gomera at its heart.
Bay Laurel – More Than a Kitchen Herb
The bay laurel tree (Laurus nobilis) is far more than a culinary plant. In ancient times, it was a symbol of victory, purity, and divine inspiration. Greek oracles chewed laurel leaves to enter visionary states. Roman generals were crowned with laurel wreaths – a mark of triumph and a connection to the gods.
But what does laurel mean for us today, in a world that often forgets its roots?
The Spiritual Power of Laurel
Bay laurel is known for its cleansing properties – both for spaces and the spirit. In smoke rituals and energy work, it’s used to clear negativity, focus the mind, and invite inspiration. It can help dissolve inner blocks and restore a sense of purpose or alignment with something greater than ourselves.
When a fresh bay leaf is burned, the air shifts: the scent is earthy and clarifying, almost awakening. It feels as though stagnant energy is released, making space for clarity and renewal.
In shamanic or meditative practices, laurel is used to enhance dreams, activate the third eye, and invite protective energies. According to ancient lore, laurel connects us with the wisdom of the ancestors – a thought that resonates deeply in a forest as old and sacred as the one on La Gomera.
A Walk Through Time
To walk through the Garajonay laurel forest is to feel something ancient stir. Not just plants, but echoes of the past. It is as though you’re walking through a living temple. Every tree, every moss-covered stone is part of a story far older than we can grasp – and if we’re quiet, we might just hear our own voice within it.
La Gomera isn’t just a destination. It’s a return. A return to something timeless. To a strength that has always been there. Maybe even, a return to ourselves.
