At the heart of the Earth

While digging through my texts, I came across a piece I wrote a few years ago during an immersive writing course near the Foissac cave. There’s an incredible figurine in the cave, a gift from the river.

I thought I’d share it with you. To find out more about the Grotte de Foissac: https://grotte-foissac.fr/

I walk down the steps with the sensation of descending into myself, and into her. Closer to the heart of Mother Earth.

In this mineral cathedral, I feel the presence of mystery. A space where our human time gives way to the murmur of the ages.

This space is like an offering to the eternity of the moment.

I feel the body’s call to move into another rhythm, to forget the hours, the days, the months. To forget the race.

I let my sacred inner self open up and join space. My breathing becomes slower, my thoughts fade away and subtly the veil lifts. I hear sacred chants and forgotten languages whispered. The water comes alive and each drop tells its own story.

Rising up from the depths of time, guided by the source, she appears. In this figurine, sculpted by conscious hands, I see the woman who loves and protects all things. I let myself be touched. She enters me and takes me far into my depths, into the memory of the Ancients.

The voices of the other visitors fade away, the group disappears. I am no longer aware of any human presence. In the walls, the ceiling, the calcite columns, 1,000 faces appear. All shapes and sizes. Invisible beings, discreet, silent, watching us. In dark places, I can feel gentle glances calling for a meeting. The spirits want to talk to us but we’ve forgotten how to listen.

They hold out their hands to whisper secrets to us once again.

I’m still moving forward, not quite sure what time I’m in. The ceiling of the cave is reflected in the cool, smooth water. For a second I thought I was on the other side of the mirror, the other side of the veil.

The conscious part of me clings desperately to a tangible reality for fear of disappearing into the immensity of the mystery. So I move forward, breathing slowly, expanding a little more with each step in this suspended time.

First I feel his gaze, probing me. The path stops, blocked by a rockfall. Behind me, no more light. Only the glow of a crackling fire reminds me of the reality of my body, my flesh. I return. Two metres above me, on a mound of clay, there he is, crouching, motionless. And real. Have I crossed over to the other side after all?

All I can see of his body are a few patches of tanned, crumpled, dry skin. In his left hand he holds a twisted wooden stick with tiny bits of bone dangling from it. The prehistoric wolf skin envelops him and the fire makes the animal’s shadow flicker on the wall as if he were still alive. All that can be seen of its face is a thin nose and a mouth that looks as if it hasn’t moved in centuries. Although invisible, his eyes look at me, piercing me, giving me a presence that makes me waver.

I quietly wonder who he is, and am astonished by the serenity I feel. A voice in my head, not my own, softly says the word ‘guardian’. My body responds in kind, shivering from head to toe.

Then he shakes his stick from right to left. The bones clash, making a strange echo on the walls of the cave, as if they were responding, as if all the spirits of the place were also waving their sacred staffs.

Faster and faster, louder and louder.

I dilate again, all my cells open and seem to expand. This time I’m scared. I try to resist but the sensation continues. Resisting hurts, so I give in. The guard’s voice is back in my head, ‘Remember’, like an injunction. The stick hits the ground three times, as if to open it up.

Then I fall. Matter no longer exists. Not even my body, scattered in the nothingness of time. I become water, wind, fire and earth gathered in a heart, His.

I hear a tinkle. I see a hand waving what appear to be coins. Then a face that goes from smiling to worried. I’m sure I’ve seen it before. I realise I’m looking at him with my mouth wide open and my eyes round. He asks me if I’m all right, and I don’t really know what to say, my face frozen with a feeling of beatitude and amazement.

They sit me down in a chair with a sugar cube and a glass of water. I hear her say to her colleague: ‘That’s the third one like that this month’. They look at me with a doubtful pout. Then my memory comes back. The visit to the cave, the guide tearing up my ticket and the descent of the steps.

I descend the steps with the sensation of descending into myself, and into her. Closer to the heart of Mother Earth.