Discovering the Davelis Cave
At the cottage in Little Viciente, there still are long winter nights. Darkness descends early and without a television or central heating, one can do little more than crawling up in the book nook around the fire and read or write. Needless to say, the muses love this and are ready to drop their ideas into a nest like that.
It must have been December 2018, when cuddled up in the deep winter, I suddenly saw my two Ancient Greek characters (from "Twenty-Five Centuries Without You") Laurin and Pasión descending into a subterranean cave system. It belonged to an ancient Order, to which Pasión was to be initiated: members had entrances to the underground tunnels and cavities from various locations, even their home backyards. At that time, I dismissed the idea as too fantastic and I continued drafting the novel without any caves in it.
However, on my first study trip to Greece with Marco something presented itself. We've been following a track of hunches and synchronicities to discover the places which were relevant for Pasión's story. We were coming back from Milos, his birth island, by boat, when very sharply, the images of the caves came back to me: I read somewhere the name of the Davelis Cave, which sent the sacred shivers down my body. We both knew, we had to go there.
There was very little to find about this cave, despite its historic importance: in ancient Greece, the marble used for the Parthenon and the classic statues was mined there - and it is only a comfortable hour and a little hike away from Athens. Yet, all we could find about it was a curious collection of supernatural rumors: footsteps disappearing in tunnels seemingly leading to nowhere, compasses and magnets going wild, time distortions, people and vehicles going up vertical rock-walls, and even water flowing backwards. To me, such anecdotes suggested that the place may have an unusual energetic constellation, which causes people's usual interpretation of reality to shift. My friend, Marco, who senses subtle energies, confirmed this in a quite dramatic way: when we finally found the cave, he refused to stay in for any extended period of time. I understood: the energies in there were by far not only "positive." There was something sinister, downright threatening. As I was hunting for a story, I needed to stay open for anything: for whatever fearsome may come, not just the comforting. While in the cave I felt watched - as if by some invisible folks - but also inspired. I stayed in the cave for about an hour and new dimensions of Pasión's story began to open up. I voice recorded everything which came to me during that hour.