In the realm of the sacred: The woman who listens to mountains

There’s a quiet knowing in Jeannie E. Javelosa’s voice — one that speaks not just of ideas and initiatives, but of realms both visible and unseen. Known for wearing many hats — cultural worker, artist, writer, advocate, entrepreneur — she carries the distinction of bridging modern thought with indigenous wisdom, scientific logic with spiritual insight. But in the world of Javelosa, none of these sit in opposition. In fact, for her, integration is where the sacred lives.

The mystics of Mount Banahaw

Nestled between Quezon and Laguna, Mount Banahaw is a living mountain, a place of pilgrimage, energy and unseen portals. 

“It is a mountain of power,” Javelosa says in an interview with DAILY TRIBUNE. “A sacred mountain where the intentions of prayer, healing and faith converge.”

As Holy Week approaches each year, the mountain transforms into a spiritual hub. “You have bus loads [of people],” Javelosa recounts. “At some point, the city of Dolores where Banahaw is located and Barangay Santa Lucia — you can’t bring cars anymore. You have to walk. It’s that full.”

Devotees begin arriving up to two weeks before Holy Week, many bearing a panata, or religious vow. They camp along trails, clutching their novenas, enduring the elements in silent devotion. The atmosphere, as Javelosa describes, is intense and otherworldly. “Sometimes, you can’t even walk through the sacred sites. You inch your way, like in Pamumwesto — the walk through the sacred spots — all packed with people. Then there’s Husgado cave, another powerful ritual site. It’s something to see.”

The sacred mingles with the economic in this high season. Local vendors sell food, religious goods, and anting-anting — amulets believed to hold protective and spiritual power. Photographers, journalists, curious tourists and even UFO hunters join the fray. “I think, if I’m not mistaken, last year it was one million people. That place, one million cramped in there.”

Amid the sea of pilgrims, stories emerge — like the woman who carried over a hundred life-sized santos up the mountain, fulfilling a deeply personal vow. “It was like a church exhibition,” Javelosa recalls, her voice tinged with awe. “Everyone prayed to their favorite saints. In another corner, someone would be doing the Pasyón, singing the Passion of Christ. Then another group might be from a different faith. Yet, there’s no conflict.”

That absence of discord, she believes, is telling. “It’s a small example that if we have a little bit more openness and appreciation for another person’s belief system — that’s it. At the end of the day, everyone believes in a higher force.”

“It’s grabe,” she laughs, referencing the physical toll everytime she climbs the mountain. “But when you reach the top, the view — 360 degrees — is breathtaking. The energy is just different.”

And then there’s the matter of anting-anting. “People go there to recharge them,” Javelosa explains. “It’s not just stones or wood — it’s your belief system. You’re charging it with your faith.” The origin of these talismans, she notes, dates back to the 19th century, when Filipino mystics and albularyos fled colonization and took refuge in Banahaw’s forests. “They couldn’t be reached by the Guardia Civil. So it became a sanctuary. That’s why it’s called the Power Mountain.”

The mysticism of natural experience

To the uninitiated, these stories might seem mythical, embellished. But not to Javelosa — because she has seen more than most. When asked if the UFO rumors around Banahaw are true, she replies with quiet certainty: “Yes, I’ve seen one. I say this with no weirdness. They exist in another dimension.”

She tells the story simply. One night in the early ’90s, while stargazing after dinner with a 12-year-old friend, she saw circular lights zigzagging across the sky. “There was a vibrational hum. And the lights were just moving across. The little girl screamed and ran inside. I couldn’t breathe. It was very clear, and it just disappeared.”

She isn’t alone. “There’s a UFO track in Banahaw. Japanese groups go there looking for orbs — blue fairy lights. The small ones, they say, are fairies. They follow them into the forest.” In her own spiritual journeys, she has seen astral cities, interdimensional beings, even received messages during meditation. “Some people think it’s crazy. But for those who’ve opened their consciousness, these are natural experiences.”

Her gifts emerged young. At 16, Javelosa found herself out of her body. “I saw my body from the outside and freaked out,” she says. “But before that, I was bumping into the light bulb, looking at the spiderwebs, thinking how beautiful they were. There was no fear until I saw myself.” From then on, her path of metaphysical exploration began.

Her spiritual development, however, came with societal pressures. Raised in a Catholic household, she was labeled “weird” for her abilities. “People said it was the work of the devil. So I knew I had to succeed in the world the way people understood it — to be taken seriously.” She did — through award-winning work in branding, heritage preservation, and women empowerment.

And yet the other side of her — the intuitive, the seer, the guide — never left.

Today, through the Banahaw Circle Nature Retreat, Javelosa helps others reconnect with meaning. The retreat’s visitor center, tucked in the foothills of the sacred mountain, includes a mandatory welcome video. “We try to orient guests. Otherwise, they wouldn’t understand. Why is there a candle here? What’s the meaning of this rock? Everything has meaning.”

Javelosa believes that in the coming years, the veils between worlds will continue to thin. “Astrological energies are pushing us to grow in consciousness. Interesting times ahead. But you shouldn’t resist. What you resist will persist — and that might be dark or scary. Openness is the key.”

She doesn’t claim to be special. “Everyone has these gifts,” she says. “We’re just afraid. But if you tune in, you’ll feel it. And somehow, all those gifted people — they find their way to Banahaw.”

After all, mountains don’t call the masses without reason.