Going Into The Void To Find Our Power
What my journey into the Cave of Cats can tell us about our own emergence, and diving deeply with our Earth Connection.
On a recent trip to Ireland, one of the first places on my list was the Cave of Cats – Oweynagat.
It’s said to be the home of Morrigan, the Irish goddess of war and of death, and an entrance to the underworld:
The gates of hell themselves are said to be held in this cave and it is the place to which all of our Samhain/ Halloween traditions can originally be traced - a pretty sacred place for someone who practices as a witch.
For all of my longings and Soul callings, I didn't know what I was going to find by venturing into the cave – and the void it represented – all I knew, with every fiber of my being, was that I needed to go.
And wouldn’t you know it, visiting there turned out to be the most sacred experience of my life, not to mention a bloody big reminder of the power we have as women.
Venturing into the void
Despite all of its history, Oweynagat is in a seemingly normal field, where it looks like just another small hole in the ground at the bottom of a tree.
From the outside it seems pretty non-descript, not to mention difficult to enter!
But when my guide - someone a good foot taller than me - was able to fit through that hole, I figured there was hope for me too. And so enter I did by wriggling down into the tight, low opening.
It was muddy - so muddy that I slid as I crawled, with nothing at all for my fingers or toes to grip onto, and the constant sensation of clay-like earth sticking to my clothes, my hair, and my skin.
And it was dark - even just inside, the entrance was so small that my body easily blocked out the light and left me at the mercy of my other senses, a tiny dim torch, and the voice of my guide a few feet in front.
I had to relinquish control and feel my way in.
And I had to trust – just as we always do when we go into the void.
We live in a world that tells us to be in control all the time, especially as women.
It tells us that everything is our responsibility.
When things go wrong, it's generally considered to be our fault, o we must be in control.
Going into the void, just like going into that cave, required me to trust and relinquish that control.
I had to trust my body and its ability to bend and curve into the spaces where it could fit; to stay balanced no matter how slimy and slippery it became underfoot, and to know the limits - sensing the low-hanging rocks overhead even if I couldn’t see them.
We went through a tight, sloping tunnel that required me to crawl on my knees and eventually ended up in a vast, womb-like area.
It was incredible – so potent, particularly when you think about the history and mythology of the cave.
This was allegedly the entrance to hell itself; the home of the Goddess of death and war; the place where terrifying creatures were said to lie in wait ready to pour from the cave and roam the streets each Samhain.
And if the stories were to be trusted, this was also the place where young would-be warriors would be sent to be initiated, tested, and left alone for days on end until they would either be reborn stronger, braver, and more in their power; or would emerge shivering and terrified, unable to contend with whatever Oweynagat had sent their way in the darkness.
It could be a really terrifying place. But it wasn’t.
It felt cosy and safe.
In every moment I knew instinctively that I was held in that powerful, sacred space.
As a society, we’re taught to fear darkness, but it’s also something we long for – the soul-nourishing envelopment that is the womb. A place we can be at peace.
In the depths of the cave with even the smallest of torches turned off I saw a darkness that can't be described by sight – only by feeling.
And within that darkness was a silence more potent than any I’d heard before.
It was like being held.
Within that embrace, I was so aware of myself.
I was stripped to a place of my own soul.
And in that silent darkness, I suddenly came to realise so much more about myself than I ever could in the light.
I heard a voice from beside me, within me, and all around me say: “Do you trust this? Do you trust yourself?”
It was a firm whisper on the non-existent breeze, a breath on my cheek that came from as I stood alone, and the peaceful yet galvanising alignment that reminded me of who I truly am.
And that’s what the void does for us.
It allows us to look at who we are beneath everything we've pretended to be – beneath everything we thought we must be and are told we should be - and to remember who we are in all of our wise, powerful glory.
Emerging from the void
When we crawled back out from the cave, the world seemed brighter and louder – a little too much if I’m honest.
It reminded me that after stepping out of the void, we need to give ourselves time for integration, recovery, and to find our feet again.
At the same time, when we come out of the void, we have a new understanding of who we are, what we're about, what we can do, and what's important to us.
It’s a journey that’s fundamental to so many goddesses who are gatekeepers to the darkness.
And it’s one we all have the opportunity to take many times throughout our lives, whether it’s going into winter, following with the phases of the moon, or immersing ourselves in our own cycles for those of us who bleed each month.
By taking that journey, we re-find ourselves and step back out into the world in the fullness of who we are.
It’s important to trust ourselves as we go into the void so that we can find that sense of peace when we're there, and remember the womb-like nature of the darkness rather than its scariness.
But then, as we move back out, that self-trust is equally important - it’s what encourages us to go gently, and enables us to do so while still fully tethered to the truth of ourselves that we found within because doing that can be hard.
In a world all-too-eager to diminish our feelings of power it can be easy to forget all that we’ve seen, heard, felt, and witnessed within the void once we come back to the surface.
But if we can only retain that memory, that connection, that embodiment to all that we truly are, the surface is the place where we can allow that to truly root in and flourish. Where, like those warriors of old, we can be reborn.
Are you struggling after stepping out of the void? Then my advice to you is exactly that: Go gently. Take one step at a time and don’t be afraid to pause on your way as you continually ask: “Is this the next right step for me?”
Re-Kindling Her Story: Tomorrow
One part of myself that stepped clearly into view as I stood there in the darkness of Oweynagat was my role as a storyteller and, specifically, for re-connecting us with the Her Stories that can do so much to bring us back to the wise and powerful parts of ourselves.
That’s why I’m making Re-Kindling Her Story sessions a regular feature in my calendar, and one that you’re welcome to attend at the price point that feels right for you. Meanwhile all Re-Kindling Her Stories sessions are included for paid members of this Community, with Zoom details in the pinned post for all Community members.
Our next session takes place tomorrow, Wednesday 5th April, at 19.00 UK time when we will be journeying with the story and energies of Elen of the Ways and diving deep with her through storytelling, channelling, meditation, and discussion.
Though a mysterious figure in many senses, Elen is an Earth-Goddess, guardian of the ley lines, and the woman credited with Britain’s transport infrastructure even today. Unsurprisingly she has a lot to teach us about ourselves, the paths we walk through life, and our connection with the Earth itself; all lessons I can’t wait to step into more deeply tomorrow!
To learn more click the button below - I adore these sessions and would love for you to join us.
For now though, thank you as always for being here. Until we talk again take care, and I hope that your own journey of re-emergence - particularly in the light of this week’s Full Moon - is gentle.
Love,
Ceryn xx