The Cave

A mythic reflection on the travails of self-reflection

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the cave

Three years ago, The Cave swallowed me whole. And I didn’t put up a fight.

I had spotted it on the horizon for some miles, large and looming. But not a single person walking along the path could share about what awaited me. 

“It all depends,” they would say.

“On what?”

“You.”

As I neared the entrance to The Cave, the terrain seemed to be demanding something from me. Offerings in exchange for deeper access. 

I gave my podcast to the bees so that they could dissect the lessons I’d compiled about pregnancy, postpartum and parenthood.

In return, the gave me a meditative buzz to travel with. The better to drown out all of the world’s voices that were clamoring for my attention. I’d need to focus on the divine inner voice instead.

I gave my social media presence to the lake and watched the daily updates float away enchanted by the reflection peering up at it.

In return, the lake gave me a willingness to be still.

Without the weight of those former responsibilities, my attention was free to be more present for the journey ahead.

Four friends awaited me on the path to The Cave, each one a sounding board and mirror both. Contact with the rest of the outside world would fall away for some time. So this chosen quartet would become my anchor to the Outer Space, tethering me to a sense of reality when isolation threatened to make me disappear.

And then, like the fog rolling over the deep blue sea, the darkness unfolded.

I bathed in tears every day for months, little trifles mutated into monstrous trials that wouldn’t accept ignorance for an answer and public appearances became loathsome at best.

There was no mistaking it now: I was in The Cave.

I welcomed the retreat. There was so many minefields hidden within my own heart that crossing through them became impossible. Instead of tiptoeing around them, biding my time for an impending explosion, I needed to examine the triggers myself. Defuse them if I could, detonate them if I must. I didn’t want to leave a single one unturned.

It was tedious work. Tiring. The Cave required a vast amount of focused attention from me that no longer had much energy for anything beyond my essential daily tasks. In the beginning, I felt like I couldn’t access my creativity. It was a deeply inward practice, without much outward flow.

In The Cave, I moved by feel rather than sight. I learned to tap into my other senses, cultivating a deeper perception. And there, in the solitude of darkness, I saw myself more clearly than I ever had before. Much was revealed, much was called out.

I became better acquainted with my triggers, the things that would send me over the edge. I became more familiar with how to better regulate my nervous system. I dug my heels into long standing friction in my closest relationships and devoted myself to examining what they needed for repair. 

It was intense and tedious. Awkward and fumbly. But I kept inching forward until one day the darkness lifted. The shift was nearly imperceptible at first, but gradually, The Cave brightened.

I looked down and I was holding gems that glistened in the pooling light. I noticed I had an urge to share them with others, to be with others. My passion for community care projects had returned. And once again, I am bubbling over with inspiration and creativity.

For three years I wandered through the twisting caverns of The Cave. For three years I examined the crevices of my own Inner Space.

And now I have emerged. Grateful, fortified, eager.

The Cave and I will meet again at some point in the future. No Doubt. But until then, it’s time to make good on my commitment to share what I picked up.

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As you return to your daily rhythm, I invite you to ponder the following questions:

• Are you going into The Cave?

• Are you currently in The Cave?

• Are you coming out of The Cave?

• What resources do you need to gather to support yourself where you are?

• What do you need to set down in order to be more present?

• What gems did you collect/would you like to collect in The Cave?

If you feel so called, come share your ponderings in the comments.

Rest well this weekend.

In All Honesty,

Maris

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