Finding the Oracle 

A metaphorical quest for mother and daughter

Francesca Howell

We went to find Cuma last summer. We had tried once before, four years earlier, when on a visit to Italy… but my daughter, then 9, had a raging ear infection and it was not the time for a spiritual/historical adventure. Now she was 13, and had studied quite a lot of the Feminine Mysteries, Goddess worship and post- modern Paganism. Since we were staying a mere 50 miles or so away from Cuma, on the Bay of Gaeta in the far south of Lazio, the region of Rome, I decided – she was not really part of the choice! – that now was the time to find Cuma.

Cuma should be a well known archeological site and tourist destination, on the level of Pompeii, Paestum or Agrigento. It is in the same region as Pompeii – just over the line from Lazio to the south in Campania - and is a place of huge historical, literary and spiritual significance. However it seems that few people, Italians included, have heard of it. This is a very symbolic gap and lacuna – one which speaks to the lack of importance given to sites connected with feminine power or the Divine Feminine. In short, it is an eloquent metaphor for -- and point of history in -- the oppression of women. As my story will illustrate, it likewise relates closely to the degradation of nature.

This became one version of a Grail Quest.

But first some dates. Cuma was a hugely significant Greek city from the early part of the 8th century BCE till well into the "Christian era". Its decline began in the 4 th century CE when it was conquered by Rome, and finally the city was destroyed by the Saracens in 915 CE. In its earlier history Cuma (or really "Cumae") was a highly successful port and trading center, as well as the site of various significant temples and spiritual centers, which dominated the coastline and volcanic lands around Naples. Among the important sites was the place where the Oracle sat, the Priestess who advised Emperors, generals and ordinary citizens. This tradition and practice went on for many centuries – a Priestess, trained in “seeing”, told her prophecies there – like the Delphic Oracle, the Pythoness, in Greece.

The renowned Roman poet Virgil (70- 19 BCE) describes the Oracle at Cuma in his writings, such as the Aeneid; likewise Michelangelo chose to include her on the Sistine Chapel ceiling – impressive and somewhat poignant to find her in the seat of patriarchal spiritual domination. However, today -- try to find Cuma as you drive around Naples and you may end up woefully lost as we have been, twice now. Or worse, as on this last trip, you may end up stymied and baffled by mountains of garbage which literally block the road and stop you from taking the right path. Here the symbolism of the Quest became particularly marked. I began to think, as this second attempt to find the mysterious site of the ancient Oracle again became deeply challenging (in the most bizarre ways), that it was a test. Perhaps the Oracle still set her tests for those daring to ask her advice, even across the centuries and the cultures? Naples’ “garbage problem” – at that time not widely known nor discussed, but now international news -- was the new barrier to finding the seat of the Oracle, in her uterine-shaped grotto.

Why was this a metaphor, however, you may wonder? I am a High Priestess of Wicca. I am training my daughter in the ancient ways – she has been exposed to Wiccan ceremonies, magic, visualization and divination, etc. from early childhood. We are now living in Italy for some years, and so it seems a perfect time to teach her some of the ancient history of classical Paganism. Thus began our pilgrimage… which eventually led us through piles of garbage, often side by side with prostitutes, standing amidst the roadways and homes of Naples' periphery.

To find Cuma, the keys are the small towns of Scalandrone and Nuova Colmata, which are visible on maps, next to the marking for Cuma. The keen-eyed will find small signs for the archeological park. However, it is not marked on the highway or in any way really indicated that this is a large park, or a very important one. The historically-minded tourist has to be very determined to get there.

Peace finally reigned when we at last entered the parking area of Cuma’s ruins. We were hugely relieved to see that some calm, beauty and sanity had returned. No garbage. No prostitutes. Strangely, in marked contrast with Pompeii or other southern Italian tourist sites, not even the ubiquitous rows of peddlers, beggars and market stalls. The magic of the Oracle began to make her presence known. Inside the park itself calm settles on the jangled nerves; it is clean, well-laid out and full of glorious natural vistas. Not a souvenir stand is in sight inside Cuma’s walls, and many well-placed inscriptions on the walls are from Virgil, in Latin. The coastline stretches away to north and south, with wild-looking dunes and wide sandy beaches, a wildlife and ecosystem preserve. There are the remains of various temples: Apollo and Jupiter are the most noticeable and best marked. There is a temple to what are known as the "Capitoline Triad", Jupiter, Juno and Minerva as well. However, what we had particularly come to see was the grotto of the Oracle.

It is unknown how the Oracle spoke or where exactly she sat. There is a long, unusually-shaped cave and tunnel, vagina-like, which leads to where it is believed she sat to give her prophecies. What could feel significant to a post-modern Priestess, like myself, or to anyone dedicated to the honoring of nature, is that the original Priestesses of the Greek world, at Delphi, Cuma and elsewhere were in the earliest centuries of their practice dedicated to Gaia, Greek primordial Earth Mother. As the centuries wore on and Greek civilization changed, Apollo became the Divinity whom the Priestesses represented and with whom they communicated for their prophecies. In essence, they no longer communicated directly with the Earth and the deepest levels of consciousness, in a quasi-shamanic style of “channeling”. The Priestesses no longer spoke from their own oracular powers of divination, but instead were spokeswomen for the male deity. It was a short time historically before there no longer were any Priestesses, their power dismantled and discredited by the newly arriving patriarchal monotheism.

One could make a case that the events at Cuma are a link to the moments in history when nature began to be desacralized, and women disenfranchised. One theory is that the alphabet and the development of writing in humanity’s history and evolution played a role in humanity’s deep division from nature (for example David Abram, 1996, TheSpell of the Sensuous). Some have pointed a finger at agriculture, but others have more convincingly seen our new fascination with writing as the source. In Western Europe, particularly southern Europe, Greek civilization and thought has had a huge impact. Thought which developed after the time of Socrates, Plato and the Athenian groves of study and scholarship have left more of a heritage than many may realize. Part of its deep traces can be felt in this division from nature and dishonoring of life interconnected with nature… with the desacralizing of nature. Platonic and Aristotelian thought profoundly influenced Christianity, in particular medieval theologians, and humanity moved farther and farther away from nature. The Priestesses' voices were not only silenced, by then they were buried deep and forgotten. In the case of Cuma, quite literally buried as layers of earth piled over and on the ancient city’s sites and the cave of the Oracle was lost.

Very important is the sense of continuity and legacy I felt from the energy of Cuma's Priestesses of old.  The silence and beauty there inside the grounds helps one to feel it. As a person of (largely) European ancestry, for whom the vows and commitments of Priestesshood in Wicca are very, very significant and life-altering, that heritage is fundamental to me. Therefore, being in a place that was a site of those ancient Priestesses, Oracles and Servants (once upon a time) of Gaia, then of Apollo, was deeply moving to me.  I have spent a great deal of time in Rome over my life, but it never had the same impact... except the site of the Temple of the Vestal Virgins in the Roman Forum.  

What of my allegorical trip with my daughter? We walked quietly and reverently among the ruins that broiling hot July day, in silence broken only by cicadas in the splendid trees, by the pounding of the sea waves on the undeveloped coastline below. My daughter was aware of the history, but like most young teens, was not terribly interested in that. What she felt , I believe, from our discussions and her comments, was the mysteriousness and power of the quiet ancient site. It posed a most impressive juxtaposition with the side roads, lined with ugly sprawl, refuse of every description, and prostitution openly practiced, even in broad daylight.

The metaphor arises in this mother/daughter pilgrimage to a site of ancient European female ministry and power, in our quest to find a place once honoring women and the Feminine Divine. The task we had to accomplish was a Grail Quest, a “Shero’s” Journey; the search for the true path, again and again, leading us past and through piles of detritus and filth, mounded up by Western “civilization” – like the traditional obstacles in European legend, Beowolf’s monster, Arthurian dragons and knights. Despite disgust, disheartened purpose and growing fears, avidly and determinedly we had to seek the Path to the heart of the Mystery. Naples’ hills of garbage, blocking the roads, confounding our GPS; the badly marked maps showing the neglect of this area’s history, none of this stopped us -- mother and daughter, High Priestess and young Priestess (perhaps) in training. Equipped with intuition, faith and reason -- and not to mention, American determination and privileged upbringing, as well as a car - we overcame obstacles and found the home of the Oracle at Cuma.

The symbolism spoke with the eloquence of the renowned Oracles. Once past those roadblocks, we found a green heart beating with nature’s magic, an ancient presence and magic, honoring Gaia’s beauty and the ancestors’ wisdom. May her memory be revived and the “herstory” retold.

© Copyright Francesca C. Howell