In search of Diana

On our way to Salin-de-Giraud, south of Lyon, we decided to stop in Nîmes, drawn by an ancient echo calling from the Garden of the Fountain. At its heart stands the Temple of Diana, beside a spring revered since ancient times.

They say four springs feed this sacred flow. From them arose the cult of the god Nemoz, who offered himself as medicine and guardian. Source, inspiration, and breath.

When the Romans arrived, Nemoz became Nemausus, and Nemausus became Nîmes. Curiously, Nemausus is masculine in plural but feminine in singular, as if this place embodied the integration of the masculine and the feminine.

The waters remained sacred. Rome merely adorned them with stairways, a portico, and a nymphaeum.

The Temple of Diana remains an enigma. Its vaults, arching and tripartite floor plan were revolutionary, yet its purpose still uncertain. Sanctuary? Library? Or something entirely unseen?

As I write this from the car, I feel it clearly: we came to connect with the invisible, with the essence of this place.

A thought arises, simple and geometric:
Nîmes (France) – Évora (Portugal) – Mérida (Spain).

Three temples named after Diana.
Three temples from the 1st century.
Three temples in the heart of ancient cities.

And none, curiously, dedicated to her.

Three temples without a goddess, where the goddess still breathes.

Perhaps, if one listens closely, one can still hear the same cosmic pulse that once laid its foundations.

And then we arrived. We walked towards the entrance, just in time to see the police closing the gates.

We decided we would return tomorrow before the planned itinerary.

Before leaving, I felt the sweetness of the canal water, a soft welcome.

Then, we sang blessings of light and love and heard the fish, and something else, respond with tiny bursts of sound before us.

That night we drove on to Salin-de-Giraud, hearts at peace, sensing that the journey had begun long before we arrived.

And so, the journey continues.