Cappadocia, Turkey I salute thee

 

Blue skies. That’s what I think of when I think of Turkey. Blue skies for miles – the sweetest blue, the kind you can taste in the air. I imagine skimming my fingers against the fabric of the sky; I bet it would be softer than rose petals, smoother than a Queen’s silks. I remember a wisp of cloud spun around a jagged mountain top like cotton candy, so thick and real that I could reach out and sink my fingers into it, wrap it around my shoulders like a heavy, damp cloak. Cappadocia.

There aren’t movies made about the romance of Cappadocia; no great men have walked its streets as in Athens or Rome. It is small, but it feels like home and starry nights with nothing but air and the weight of the world keeping you from swimming among the constellations. It feels like whispered stories and blood-streaked rocks, scarlet-scarred mountain faces, caves that wander too deeply into the warm Earth for us to follow.

It is there that I can feel myself melting away; I am no longer a shy girl from the suburbs of Houston. I am invincible, I am the stars, I am the earth. I am staring Atlas in the face, seeing the place where the heavens kiss the humble feet of men. I see the meeting place of the universe, opening my hands to the sky, to opportunity. It makes me feel brave. If the Earth can kiss the stars and be unafraid of being burned, I think, so can I. If the heavens can still embrace the Earth even as it pulls and scrapes against her sweet blue, I think, then maybe I can embrace myself. I can stop worrying about the future and the past, and accept the present.

I have the courage to be who I want to be, do what I want to do. I can topple kingdoms with my words, sharpen my axe on the ignorance of humankind. When the sun reaches its apex in the sky, my shadow stretches out below me, confirmation that light has traveled for 93 million years to touch the ground beneath my feet only to be obstructed by my presence.

In Cappadocia I feel brave. I feel like I can be more. The Earth and its beauty reminds me of my insignificance, but instead of feeling scared and alone, I just feel stronger.  I am reminded that no matter what I do, the Earth will keep on turning, the sun will still rise. No matter what failures I stumble through, the Earth will survive and so will I. The sky reminds me of the incredible odds of my existence, and how I defied them just by being born. A million things had to fall perfectly into place so that I could walk the Earth, and a million things did.

 

Cappadocia is the place in the world where I am reminded of this, of who I am. I am reminded to be proud to be who I am. Atlas may hold up the sky, but I’m the one who holds myself up – and that’s a great feat in and of itself.

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