In preparation for Monette Chilson’s upcoming Excavating Her workshop on Sept. 20, 11 - 12:30 PST where she will discuss St. Fillian’s cave in Scotland and its relevance with the divine feminine, I offer a personal cave story - my confrontation with the Great Goddess.
When Monette and I were in Crete together, I tried very hard to connect with the divine feminine. I was yearning from something undeniable, proof that would allow me to be a card-carrying believer. Although we were led to powerful ancient sites where we enacted rituals and dances and I was moved by the beauty and energy in our group of women, I failed to feel greeted by any great universal power.
Except once.
And I almost missed it.
Skotino is the largest cave on Crete. It has two steep levels one has to scramble down in order to get to the innermost sanctuary. In the deep caverns of the cave, Minoans performed purification rites, sacrifices, and chthonic offerings. Archaeological findings such as female figurines, pottery, and other votive items, confirm the cave's use for sacred purposes from the Bronze Age through the Roman era. The journey into the cave's darkest passages is itself a ritualistic experience meant to invoke the presence of the divine feminine.
That day, a small group of women took it upon us to co-lead a ritual at the site. The collaborative approach to facilitating a ritual was new to us, so we all felt especially ignited, giddy, and connected to each other. Before we descended into the depths of the cave, I sang (something I NEVER do). I had been given lyrics but I made up my own melody, which my fellow initiates sang back to me, as a call and response.
She goes and we go down.
We follow her underground.
Hail Ariadne!
Who dies and is reborn.
And deep calls to deep.
And deep calls to deep.
Hail Ariadne!
Who dies and is reborn.
A woman burned incense as more chants were softly sung as we descended slowly into the first cave, still illuminated by daylight through its round opening. This was followed by some slick rock-hopping down moist crevices into the innermost womb of the cave. We were now surrounded by complete darkness.
A woman lit a candle, and sitting together, we each lit our own candle from the woman next to us. In soft flickering light, we each pulled out a rock to which we had given special meaning of release. Another woman welcomed our ancestors and spoke encouragingly about letting go of aspects of ourselves that no longer served us. Solemnly, each women stepped forward toward the edge of a deep cavern, and tossed their rock into the darkness while listening for it to hit the bottom many seconds later. Monette played her flute. She recalls feeling at the time that she was unable to pick up the tune she wanted to play. Looking back now, I wonder if a searching, wandering tune was exactly what the moment demanded. Lastly, a woman led us into silent meditation. We blew out our candles as she urged us to merge with the darkness.
That’s when something happened.
We sat in the dark for quite some time. I watched the darkness and listened to the drip of water seeping out of the rocky walls. I noticed the twinge of fear in my body. I was in unknown territory. I searched the darkness, vigilant and alert. I tried to attune to the surroundings but fear would not subside. I closed my eyes trying to calm myself. Instantly, a steady even-toned hum showed up in my ear, or rather, in my ear/head/mind/body/soul.
I noticed it, but brushed it away. As I tried to re-focus on the here and now, the hum grew louder and thicker. Again, I brushed it off. It must be some sort of inner ear echo - there is probably some science-y explanation. The hum continued to grow quickly becoming so loud, that it was uncomfortable and scary. I began to fear being overtaken by it. The tension grew into a state of great discomfort. I became so frightened, I thought something was wrong with me.
My heart pounded, my blood quickened. I flashed open my eyes to see if any of the other women heard the sound. As soon as I opened my eyes, the hum went away. In the shadows, my friends looked peaceful. I closed my eyes, and immediately the hum returned - a densely layered energetic ribbon…
… like a never-ending vibrational sigh.
STILL. I pushed away the thought that I could be sensing something important - that a wave length of vitality could be coursing through me. But, as hard as I tried to explain it away with rational thought, there was another part of me that felt I was facing something purposely terrorizing. Was I supposed to be scared? Why? I truly struggled to accept this hum from deep within the earth, which I knew was inexorably linked to the expanse of life itself. I spoke harshly to myself, Get control of yourself.
Because this is what patriarchy has taught us: Chaos needs taming.
Luckily, I did not jettison the hum away completely. I managed to stay on a threshold - dancing between justifying the energy away from mystery toward logic, and being ravishingly over-taken by this inexplicable force so clearly streaming through me. I breathed consciously in and out. The hum remained ever-present until our meditation came to an end. I said nothing to the others as we climbed out of the cave. One woman from our group had remained behind. She beckoned to us soothingly singing, “Sisters, Sisters, it is time to return…”
It has taken me a long time to wrap my head around this experience and even now, I dance on the threshold. A few months ago, I reported this experience to my cohort of Disruptor Goddesses who were also at Skotino cave that day. I asked if anyone had also heard the awesome hum from beyond.
No one heard it but me.
Did it happen? It happened. Did it mean something? It meant something. Was it real? It was real. But still, I have no proof, except for my body, my soul.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the Dark Goddess as explained by Woodman and Dickson in their book, Dancing in the Flames. I believe my experience at Skotino is an embodied example of the tension the authors examine in their book - a tension between the false promise of objectivity and the passionate threat of a fully ensouled body.
The more we recognize the non-materiality of the body, of nature, the more conscious it becomes. This consciousness is what we call soul, a soul no longer forced into exile… This reanimation of the body allows us to enter consciously into the flow of life. We can dance in the flames, dying and being reborn again every moment, because the fear that cuts us off from life has been eliminated. (my italics) (Woodman & Dickson pg. 222)
My internal battle with the hum of the universe lives as testament to the real struggle we have as humans to fully invest in the divine nature that lives within us and that we are a part of at every moment. Western thought honors causal events; action-reaction. But what about the dimensions outside this simple formula? What about the meaning we gain from psyche and soma? If we continue to negate these alternate modes of consciousness, we will remain removed from the full power of the universe.
What could it have been?
Because our ritual was lovingly and communally held, because we took our time to stay together and share the sacred space simply and reverently, because we honored each other while each released old wounds into the cave’s abyss, because we offered our shy voices in song, our searching flute melodies, our awkward yet sincere candle lighting, and because our intentional call to the Great Goddess was focused and earnest, a force was initiated and a great chasm opened, through which Her archetypal energy was freed. As quoted in Dancing in the Flames,
In Jung’s thinking, the activation or awakening of an archetype releases a great deal of power, analogous to splitting the atom… The activation of an archetype releases patterning forces that can restructure events both in the psyche and in the external world. The restructuring proceeds in an acausal fashion, operating outside the laws of causality.” (Combs & Holland, p. 74)
I don’t know. But, the more I live, the more I believe not knowing is the thing to know.