A Cave Story by Arianne MacBean

A few years ago, I took a pilgrimage to Crete with the hope of meeting the Great Goddess. I was yearning from something undeniable, proof that would allow me to be a card-carrying believer. Although our group was led to powerful ancient sites where we enacted sincere rituals and dances, each time I failed to feel greeted by Her universal power.

Except once. And I almost missed it.

One day, a small but determined group of women took it upon us to co-lead a ritual at Skotino cave, an ancient site used for sacred purposes from the Bronze Age through the Roman era. The collaborative approach to facilitating a ritual was new to us, so we all felt especially ignited and giddy. Before we descended into the depths of the cave, I sang, (something I NEVER do). I had been provided 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 while 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 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. A woman welcomed our ancestors and spoke encouragingly about letting go of aspects of ourselves that no longer served. Solemnly, each of us stepped forward toward the edge of a deep cavern and tossed our rock into the darkness while listening for it to hit the bottom of the cave many seconds later. A woman searchingly played her flute, recalling later that she never quite hooked into the melody she longed to bring forth. 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 it happened.

I watched the darkness and listened to the drip of water seeping out of the rocky walls. I noticed twinges of fear in my body. I searched the wet atmosphere, vigilant and alert. I tried to attune myself to the surroundings, but fear kept creeping in. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. As soon I my eyes shut, a steady even-toned hum arrived in my ear, or rather, in my ear/head/mind/body/soul.

I noticed the hum but brushed it away. The more I tried to tune it out, 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, it was painful. The tension within me grew to a state of great discomfort. I thought something might be wrong with me.

My blood quickened. As much as I tried to explain the hum 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 flashed open my eyes to see if any of the other women heard the sound. As soon as I opened my eyes, the hum disappeared. In the shadows, my friends looked peaceful. I closed my eyes again.

Immediately, the hum returned – a densely layered energetic ribbon, like a never-ending high vibrational sigh.

STILL. I pushed away the sense that a vibration of vitality could be coursing through me. I spoke harshly to myself, Control yourself.

Because this is what patriarchy has taught us: Tame the chaos.

Even in my state of terror, I knew to not cut myself off from the hum completely. As difficult as it was, I managed to stay on a threshold – dancing between justifying the energy away from mystery and being ravishingly over-taken by the inexplicable force. The hum remained ever-present, wrapping its ribbon of energy around and through my body, 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 at the mouth of the cave. 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.It happened. It meant something. It was real. But I have no proof, except for my body, my soul. My internal battle with the hum of the universe lives as testament to the real struggle of fully investing in the divine nature that lives within.

What could it have been?

Perhaps, because our ritual was lovingly and communally held, because we took our time to stay together and share the sacred space reverently, because we honored each other while releasing old wounds into the cave’s abyss, because we offered our shy voices in song, our searching flute melodies, and because our intentional call to the Great Goddess was earnest, our energy initiated the opening of a great chasm, through which Her archetypal power 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.

BIO: Arianne MacBean is a licensed marriage family therapist with a certificate in somatic psychotherapies and practices at Synergy Somatic Psychotherapy in Los Angeles, CA. Her first book, a self-reflection and somatic journal entitled, Tough Shit. – the angry woman’s guide to embodying change will be published by Tehom Center Publishing in November 2025. You can find more of her writing on Substack @writebig