In an age of curated spiritual experiences and crowded sacred sites, the menhirs of Clendy offer something increasingly rare: the gift of solitude. Gabrielle Cavegn’s recent pilgrimage to Yverdon reveals a profound truth about the nature of holy places—they often hide from those who seek them too eagerly.

Located on the shores of Lake Neuchâtel, these standing stones emerged from beneath the waters that had concealed them for centuries. Their current arrangement, while somewhat arbitrary due to their watery history, does nothing to diminish their spiritual potency. Cavegn describes her heart “pounding happily” upon finding them, a testament to the living energy that animates these ancient markers.

The journey itself becomes a meditation. Missing bus stops, walking through deserted streets, and encountering locals who have never heard of the stones—these obstacles strip away expectation and leave the seeker vulnerable to the raw encounter. “I had the place all to myself,” Cavegn writes, “and could absorb the quiet but serene atmosphere.”

For the travelling OBODI, Clendy teaches that the most powerful spiritual encounters often require both persistence and surrender. The stones do not advertise themselves. They wait, patient as millennia, for those willing to become lost enough to find them.