Discover Cappadocia

As a lone traveler I venture down many roads and think, the places I see and the things I pass by are too magnificent to describe. As a person with many valued relationships left behind, I work to convert the intangible into a picture book to tell the story of my voyage.  This duality in my identity has left me in contemplation before. Up until now it has been a question I ask myself, but while I have been experiencing life lived in a cave the question has surfaced as more a personal dilemma. 


Why do I write? Is it for you; is it for me? It seems as with all things, I find words to string together into sentences for a spread of reasons.  I have family and friends who I adore and who I hope enjoy following my adventure line. At a more superficial level, I hope people will view what I am doing and see it as something worth giving recognition to.  However, these reasons for writing are only additional motivation behind the source of my inspiration. I would not create prose and I would not publish photos if it wasn't for the feeling  that my products are something evolving inside of me with the intention to become a part of the world. Although I have this organic desire to write and create I wonder now if it is truly pure. I am worried that the pressure of sending updates may soil any true passion for this art.  I always am pleased with my finished work when I put The Energy into it, but that energy is sometimes exhausting to access. As an amateur writer I can not help but wonder if this form of self expression will fade from my life.   


As I bring you, now, into my present I am even more hesitant to reveal in detail what I have been doing. It is not because I am ashamed or feel guilt; in fact I am proud and revived by it. There is a place in central Turkey that was inhabited one thousand years ago by a civilization of people living in caves and off the land. Now this place, called Cappadocia, is spotted with tourists and lush with abandoned caves. Here I have been living for ten days, cooking over an open fire, exploring ancient artifacts, collecting wild fruit, and sleeping on straw in a low dark cut-out of rock.  I am shy to share this experience in full because it has filled me so deeply with life and I think that telling anyone about it would be a cheat to feeling it for yourself.  My loose sense of morals are telling me to be vague in hope that you will discover this experience on your own. 


For a small push in the direction I will leave you pondering this... 


What, beyond body warmth, is created when you share an ancient way of life with new found companions?  

How must it feel to wake up after your first night sleeping  within stone, wondering if your shelter is going to keep you secure, to find that you slept in the warmth of a cradle and the valley you reside in is covered in snow? 

How far away does modern society feel when you gaze at the same celestial pearls from the same earthly abode just as one did a millennium ago? 

The answers, I wish for all to find themselves, but I will tell you what they may provoke in you. For me the time here has led me to decide on the continued growth of my hair and beard and discontinued use of soap above my neck and discontinued consumption of meat.  

Cappadocia is a way of life...

Dedetepe-Well-Being

Warm rays of pink, orange and gold sink through my eyelids, drawing me to rise just a moment before the sun can rise herself, over the Autumn forest hills. Rhythms of this life, no need for alarm. I wake-up well.

Her body is scored with scars. She looks at the world through a cloud of trauma, seeing with only one eye. I accept her fear towards our tailless kind. Slowly gently, I absorb her aggression and get close to tend her wounds. Day by day I can hear more comfort in her response to my call, "Hey girl." I care well.

Earth: births the olives that drip the oil, sprouts the seeds that grown to be food, gives the mud that is molded for an oven, supports the trees that ignite for cooking, holds my feet, so I can patiently combine the gifts into an organic slow-food meal.  I am nourished well.

photo from Linda and Eriks

Focused energy streams through my actions producing progress to the task I attend. A group of bodies sharing a breath, food's fuel goes unwasted. Physical tasks accomplished satisfy more than my host. I labor well.  

photo from Linda and Eriks

I follow the music to find what I hear, I go to the land's edge to see what I find. Off the guide-book-trail I work to crack the surface of what is here. I inquire well.

Moments of laughter, moments of appreciation, moments of acceptance, moments of respect, moments of compassion, moments of communication, moments of creation, moments of weakness, moments of strength, moments we share, together our relations are well.

Here I am nature. Here I am free.  Here there is time for me to focus on me. I stroll down the river to feel the source. It is a connection like this that keeps me on course. Now as I go, self-care vibrates like a soft ringing bell. I-be-well.