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Poetry Inspired by ON THE TRAIL OF THE GREAT GODDESS November, 2011
The Call
Mythic Travel, Sacred Journey, Nourishing Mother, Divine Feminine. Buy Now. The Goddess beckons. Departure, Arrival
Departing LA on Turkish Airline Flight 0010. Twelve and a half hours to In the airport, pilgrims in white robes are beginning the Hajj. At the hotel, I find free Wi Fi, Turkish delight, and the kindness of strangers.
From From Sun Prairie and from Four “goddess women” have arrived at the Aziyade. Let the adventure begin!
Finding the Mother in Deep in the cistern the two Medusas wait, Women of Protection bathed in the Water of Intuition. Aya Sophia's dazzling heights free the heart and mind, And Divine Wisdom is restored. The mosaics of Chora tell a story: The Great Mother is in charge. Stones of Stones hold our memories -- Memories of the sea and of the sea creatures, Memories of the rising and breaking of the rocks, Memories of our villages, our “settlements,” settling into the earth, Memories of fires and sieges, Memories of our hopes, our fears, our victories, and our defeats. The mud bricks wash away and the wood decays, But the stones remain our witness -- silent and strong, keeper of our memory.
Arrival at
The sun sinks behind the leaving the moon, the bats, and the sea. Sappho welcomes us.
We climb the steep path in the chill of the morning. Her cat greets us and leads us on. From Her hilltop temple, She gazes across the water watching Sappho write poems of love. Hands and faces numb with cold, we honor Her, we honor ourselves. Asklepion at Pergamon
They came before, and they come again, seekers of healing, walking an ancient path. The snakes intertwine, and there is light at the end of the tunnel. In the land of dreams and intuition, I am blessed with sacred water. Great walls of brick tower into the sky, A river's waters pass underneath. Earth Mother with Babe in arms. We open a pomegranate and sing to Her stones. The Acropolis at Pergamon
Palaces and temples rise to pierce the sky, The wedge-shaped theater hugs the ground. Cat and bees welcome us to the Is this Athena's Where did they go? -- Is this the way down? Oh No! Go back! That's the wrong way! Saved from disaster, we find the stairs and make a safe descent. The
Embraced by encircling mountains, Her temple rests in harmony with the earth. Nestled among Her stones, We pause in quiet communion. A daisy blooms amid the stones, a lizard seeks shelter. Bees are drawn to sweet purple flowers. The tinkling bells of goats complete the magic: A moment of peace and symmetry. She was waiting so long for her daughters. We have returned. The City of The old city unearthed stretches before us, Latrines, shops, and restaurants line the way, The road to In the synagogue, Cybele's lions guard Jewish memory. In the gymnasium grounds, today's children on holiday surround us, pose for photos, and shower us with candy and flowers. The
We approach the lofty but solitary column that marks the temple's remains. It is crowned with a stork’s nest from which crows and sparrows dart in and out. Flocks of geese patrol the grounds, as vendors hawk their goods to tourists and pilgrims alike. We bide our time, waiting for our opportunity. We make a simple offering of orange slices and chocolate. Mother Goddess, we celebrate you. The House of Mary
A solemn walk to the sacred shrine amid the trees, Two white candles selected from the tray, and The Mother of Compassion receives us all with quiet grace. I light the candles for all sentient beings. I take water from the sacred spring to dab my forehead. May we all be well.
City of
Great Metropolis of the ancient world. The rich and the poor, The sacred and the profane, The city lives again as tourists crowd the streets. The library statues speak of virtue, The footprint on the paving stones tells another story.
The road winds up into mountains covered with pines and lavender flowering shrubs. Autumn leaves are turning. White houses of bees alternate with white rectangular gravestones. The wheel turns toward the dark, From Maiden, to Mother, to Crone. Hecate watches as we approach. Dark Mother enfolds me in Her embrace, as I walk widdershins around Her temple. Meeting at Her altar, we arrange leaves, flowers and dried fruit. We circle, we chant, we sing, while John of New York guards our rite. In the quiet of the warm stones, Hecate's lizards show the way: Let us be here Let us be now Let us be here Let us be home. Artemis at Magnesia on the Meander
We join the procession, Across the courtyard, To the temple. We are coming home, Mother, We are coming Home. Aphrodisias
Not the Aphrodite of Greek myths, She is the Mother, she is Cybele. She is Nana, Anna, Inanna, Matar. She is the ancient Anatolian Mother. There's a surprise around every corner -- the Tetrapylon gate in a meadow of green, the grand Stadium still awaiting the competitors, the Bouleterion with its princely chair, pomegranates and golden grasses, and the faces -- oh the faces! The Necropolis at Pamukkale So many lives, so many camera angles. Tombs large and small, rectangular and circular, Jutting upwards and leading us under. Birds singing chipperly and hang gliders soaring overhead. In a grove of pines, we connect with those who came before, The spiral of eternity in a nautilus shell: “From waking to sleeping, and sleeping to waking, and over.” 11 -- 11 -- 11
Driving through the mountains, we head to the Sea. At 11:11 we fall silent in meditation. May peace and healing flow through the world. The
Apollo's Athena's Soft sea breezes, Golden afternoon light. A sailboat and a parachute brightly colored. Moon God Men watches from his mound of rock. Ancient Mother From the Sea to the Anatolian plateau. We eat bananas, as we ascend Into forests of pine and cedar, dusted with snow. The fields and stones of the high plateau, Glowing and golden in the autumn light -- A landscape of Dream and Memory. Ancient Mother, we hear you call us. Ancient Mother, you call us home. We remember, we are your children, We remember, we are your own. Ancient Mother, we hear you call us, Ancient Mother, we're coming home. We feel now your arms enfold us, We know now that we are home. Musings
The vast Anatolian plateau in November -- Grain stubble, a few birds, a few flocks, Small trees planted by the road -- Will they survive the coming winter? Electrical wires spin a web of connection from village to farm to village. In my mind I weave connections to loved ones gone before: Mother, Father, my husband Clift. Strands of DNA spiral through time connecting us with ancestors unknown. And the old ones of Catalhoyuk -- what would they make of us? Would they be proud of us? Or would they be dismayed? Would they recognize themselves in us, as we recognize ourselves in them? Re-entry
We are back from the land of myth and dreams. The statues and paintings of the old ones are separated behind glass and carefully labeled. Our last meal together, Our final ritual. Hands adorned with spiral rings stretch out to bless the chocolate soufflé, provided by our guide and guardian-- a fitting close to our journey. The circle is open, but never broken. Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again! Susan D. November, 2011 Women’s Rights Turkish law provides complete equality for men and women. A man may have only one wife and women have equal rights with respect to inheritance and in other spheres of social life. This is in sharp contrast with the Moslem code which allows a husband to have four wives, recognizes the testimony of two women as being equal to a single man, and gives daughters only half as much as sons in inheritance. Turkish women received the right to vote and the right to be elected to office in 1934, before Swiss, Greek, French and Italian women. Currently, Turkey has several female members of Parliament, mayors and governors. Tansu Ciller, a 46 year old professor of economics, became Turkey’s first female Prime Minister in 1993. The Hittites By the second half of the third millennium BCE, a highly developed civilization characterized by a high level of craftsmanship in metals of all kinds was already in existence in Anatolia . Assyrian merchants were selling tin and clothing in the area in exchange for gold and silver, establishing trading colonies, and had introduced cuneiform script and the Assyrian language to the indigenous Hittite culture. Knowledge of writing, organizing trade and public administration allowed the Hittite culture to emerge. Cities were built with large public building: palaces and temples. Cuneiform tablets have been discovered that document complicated business agreements, and also contain literary works and school exercise texts. The Hittite empire expanded, eventually extending into Syria and Egypt and lasting until around 1200 BCE when sea peoples from the west overran and burned down the capital city. While the "Hittite style"
flourished, cities were built with fortified walls, town squares,
and streets with channels. Figurative art and ceramics rose to
new levels of creativity. Ivory statuettes of fertility goddesses,
sphinxes, eagles in flight, animals lying down and rock crystal
statuettes of lions have been discovered by archaeologists. Vessels,
cosmetic boxes, and stamp seals have also been found. Significantly,
these items are decorated with Anatolian style motifs: animals;
the Anatolian goddess and her consort; the chief god, and their
children. In this way we have learned about ancient Hittite religious
practices. Today, the visitor can walk on the remnants of the streets, temples and palaces built over 3000 years ago. A huge outdoor temple has friezes carved into its rock walls depicting the goddess, her consort and children, a Hittite king, and his procession of priests and warriors. At the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations in Ankara, fine examples of statuary, ceramics and stone carvings are displayed. -- Özgüç, T. The Hittites. Ankara: Museum of Anatolian Civilizations The Philosopher and the Skipper Ali was a philosopher who thought he knew all there was to know. Everyone agreed that he had a broad knowledge of the sciences and the arts, yet he insisted on bragging to one and all that he was the smartest man in town. Ali’s’ friends were bothered by this arrogance and tried to make Ali see the world around him with open eyes. The efforts, however, were unproductive, so Ali’s friends encouraged him to go on a sea voyage. Such a trip would expose Ali to difficulties that he would otherwise not experience. Ali liked the idea and the arrangements were made. Once at sea, Ali talked only about philosophy with the sailors. The skipper listened patiently for a while without saying a word, but finally interrupted to complain that he was bored by this talk. "Do you know anything about philosophy?" Ali asked. "I’m afraid not," the skipper replied. " What a shame," said Ali, shaking his
head, "for half of your life has been wasted, not having
such knowledge." The skipper let that comment go unanswered
and kept busy steering the ship. They sailed for days. Ali was enjoying himself, talking most of the time. He was so busy explaining his ideas on how governments should run their countries and how leaders should address different problems that he did not bother to learn anything about sailing. Even when they cast anchor alongside a small island, Ali did not take advantage of the calm waters to ask for swimming lessons. Neither did he care to ask his sailor friends any questions about their life at sea. The next night, while they were in mid-ocean, heading back home, the captain started to get worried. There were unmistakable signs that a storm was on the way. The crew prepared to face the emergency. Only Ali remained calm in his cabin, his mind occupied with loftier matters. The wind blew hard, wresting control of the ship from the captain’s hands. The sailors, panicking, were thrown from side to side as the vessel pitched in the swells. There was so much water on deck from the heavy rain and giant waves that the ship was riding noticeably lower in the water. The skipper shouted for the crew to prepare to abandon ship. The ship’s only lifeboat was lowered into the water, and soon it became obvious that it would not hold all the men. The skipper and several sailors were preparing to jump into the open sea and take their chances swimming. It was then that the skipper remembered Ali. He asked one of the sailors to find him. Ali was holding onto his cabin door, trying to maintain his balance. The sailor screamed at him. "Hurry up, we must abandon the ship, it is sinking!" Ali, confused, was helped to the deck. The skipper hollered, "Do you know how to swim?" "No!" Ali shouted back. The skipper shook his head, "What a shame for all of your life has been wasted, not having such knowledge." The skipper and his crew were saved that night by another vessel after the storm subsided. Even Ali was rescued, with the help of some sailors who kept him afloat. From that day on, not a peep was heard from Ali about his vast knowledge of philosophy. A few years after the incident, Ali presented a gift to the skipper, who was now a close friend. It was a framed painting of a ship in a stormy sea. A couplet was inscribed beneath the picture: Only empty objects remain on top of the water. Become empty of human attributes, and you will float on the ocean of creation. --M. Bayat and M. A. Jamnia. Tales from the Land of the Sufis. Boston: Shambala, 1994. |
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