What is a Swayambhu?

There are some places in the world that feel alive. But the energy is more than alive; it sparks a special connection with the divine. You walk into them, and even before you know their name, or their mythology, or just how many centuries pilgrims have walked there, something inside of you recognizes them as extraordinary.

This is the essence of a swayambhu — a word from Sanskrit that means “self-manifested” or “self-originated.”

Above is a lingam in a temple next to the Cave of the Mother, Avani, India.
The energy and vibration were high and powerful inside.

Most often, the term is used to describe self-born images or icons, such as the Shiva lingams that arise naturally from the earth. These are revered as manifestations of the god untouched by human hands. However, a swayambhu can also be a place, such as a cave, a river, a mountain, or a spring. Basically, it is a natural formation that reveals itself as sacred due to the energetic quality it radiates. Such places do not need to be built. They simply are.

I had never been to a swayambhu and was fascinated by the concept. What do you feel in such a sacred place as that? My husband and I were visiting India, so we asked the locals if they knew of any swayambhus near Bangalore. We were told that the Cave of the Mother in Avani was one of them. So off we went to explore.

Tradition holds that this is where Sita, daughter of Bhumi Devi (the Earth goddess) and wife of Rama, lived in exile. She gave birth to her twins, Lava and Kusha, here and raised them within the protective embrace of Sage Valmiki's ashram. Avani also carries the memory of Sita’s final act: weary of endless trials and public doubt, she called upon her mother, the Earth, to take her back.

The ground opened, receiving her into its embrace. She did not die as mortals do — she simply returned to her origin, re-merging with Bhumi Devi. This is why the Cave of the Mother is considered so profoundly sacred: it is not only a place of her refuge and motherhood, but also the very earth that opened to receive her into eternity.

Legends are a part of swayambhus. However, we had a theory that these places evoke special feelings that can be sensed with our bodies. During our investigations into sacred sites, we encounter qualities that connect us to something greater than ourselves, something sacred, something divine. The people of the place recognized this as being something rare and began to build sacred structures around it. Later, the language of myths and stories emerged to illustrate why the place was sacred and special.

It was with this in mind that I came to Avani, a small village of Karnataka, nestled among granite hills, ninety kilometers east of Bangalore. To reach the Cave of the Mother, you need to climb stairs cut into rock that lead up to enormous boulders and little shrines. Many pilgrims leave small stacks of stones, balancing one on another, as quiet offerings.

Inside the little temple with the doorway to the cave on the left. The Goddess of the Mother is the most important figure in the room.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, I discovered a little open doorway, nothing fancy to indicate the presence of the Mother. Inside was an altar with the Goddess. Another doorway leads down to the cave. The air is filled with stillness and power. I was drawn down into the cave. Huge stones hold up the inner sanctum, and a little figurine of the goddess is placed upon an unassuming stone. Inside the cave.

I sat down to commune with the goddess; the energy was dark, fertile, and comforting. I felt the word ‘embody’ emerge into my consciousness and realized that my body felt more alive and filled with life force. I was simultaneously deeply rooted to the earth and connected to the cosmos. The vibration inside was very high, powerful, and deeply connected to ‘spirit’. As I meditated in the silence, I asked the goddess for her blessings in my life and for a sign that she was present here with me.

Almost immediately, a fragrance wafted through, a delicate, unmistakable scent of flowers. Surprised, I looked around, but there were no flowers inside, nothing material to account for it. Just this sudden sweetness wafting inside the stone cave. It amazed me, because nothing like that had ever happened to me before. In that moment, I realized that the goddess is truly with me.

It is said that Sita, who endured exile and suffering with such steadfastness, finally called upon Mother Earth to take her back. And the earth opened and received her. At Avani, the story locates that moment here, at this cave. Standing there, breathing in that fragrance, I understood why. It is not only a place where a story is remembered — it is a place where the energies of Goddess and Earth converge, a swayambhu.

What the temple builders and storytellers did was recognize what was already there. They wove shrines to Rama and his brothers around the cave, placing the Ramayana’s maternal figure, Sita, within its womb-like chamber. But long before the stories, long before the carved linga or temples, there was the cave itself, radiating a presence and energy of sacredness.

On that day, in that cave, I felt the truth of what a swayambhu is. It is a place where sacredness rises directly from the land to meet the heavens. It is not mythology. It is not architecture. It is the living Earth revealing itself to us, calling us to connect with something bigger than ourselves. At the Cave of the Mother in Avani, it is the subtle, yet powerful, embrace of the goddess. And sometimes, if you dare to ask, she will fill the air with the perfume of flowers.