In the lovely garden of our hotel in Antalya, after breakfast, five women tell their stories in a "Women and Community" session.

The first woman told of being given away at birth and not knowing who her mother is. She recounts the love, passion, and determination of the journey from an orphanage to being adoped to choosing to become a mother. She shares her fear that since she does not remember ever having what she felt was a real mother, she will not be able to be a good mother.

The mother of the second woman is dying. Her daughter, a midwife, is allowing her that passage. "Goodbye, dearie," may be the last words her mother spoke to her. The mother is so loving she lets her daughter feel peace about leaving for Turkey so close to the end. The daughter was wise and courageous enough to join us here.

Woman #3 calls herself a "late bloomer." She is a deeply caring woman, an activist, 66 years old, with two grown children. She is exploring the richly textured quilt of women's issues, between today's young feminists' "I am not a victim" and older feminists' view that "You don't know you're a victim." Her research on the mothers of lesbian and transsexual women raises fascinating questions. We see the moon in all its phases.

An American woman in her mid '50s who chose not to bear children is deeply involved with her college-age Greek goddaughter, who now lives with her. Mothering this daughter mothers the self in wonderful new ways. The cultural imperatives shrink within this wise woman's happy heart.

"I am an alcoholic, searching for spirit in a bottle". Woman #5 projects her hugely courageous, fierce, sword-like determination to remain sober after so many years. With few words, she says so much. This is a woman full of love, with very fortunate children.

At the museum of Antalya, which is filled with artifacts of daily life from the Stone Age through Ottoman times, I am especially struck by a sarcophagus made for the beloved dog of a "solitary woman" around 2000 A.D.

To the beach. Heaven!! Breeze. We stay as long as possible. The beach is like a magnetic field and a nurturing mother at the same time.

Perge is extraordinary! In its Greek and Roman ruins, I imagine the beauty, conversations, social fabric, fountains, aqueducts, sunrise, sunset, chariots along the great wide road. I hope I dream about it tonight. The great benefactress of the city was a woman, Plancia Magna.

I imagine our group spending 24 hours in Perge. A slumber party. Ritual at sunrise. Stories. Dance. What would we each say about our lives in this arena, with our empowering ancestors listening?

Your editor can't resist adding here the delightful incident with Turkish schoolchildren at Perge. As we entered the site, Meli was just about to give us a rap about the extraordinary ruins we were about to see when the usual lively, exuberant, noisy group of Turkish kids, led by their teacher, marched in and stopped right next to us. Meli sized up the situation instantly and came up with a great solution. She told the kids that if they were very, very quiet while she spoke to our group, she would take time afterwards to tell them wonderful stories in Turkish about the site (not just the dry facts and dates they would get from their teacher). They agreed to the deal and kept their part of the bargain. Then she asked them to recite the pledge. A girl got up and led them in a loud, enthusiastic call-and-response that was about 10 times as long as the U.S. Pledge of Allegiance. Meli told us later that this pledge was instituted by Kemal Ataturk. It begins "I am Turkish: I am honest and hard-working" and goes on to promise dedication to the community, love for the young, respect for the old, etc. Our group cheered their performance and walked through their ranks, as they did the usual "Hell-o!" and "Bye-bye!" routine. We waited a bit while Meli told them some wonderful stories (from her large stock) about their heritage. I marveled at what it must be like to learn in school about history starting 10,000 years ago in the Neolithic instead of in 1492.

DAY6 Thursday, June 14, 2001
by
Diane Martin

Day on the Sea,

Today is a fabulous day of cruising, sunbathing and swimming in the
Mediterranean. We enter a lovely harbor nestled in a picturesque cove
surrounded by lush green gardens. It is hot and humid and the plants and

flowers glory in it. Mountains and tall cliffs surround the harbor andhug
the cove holding the green Mediterranean Sea. It is like stepping into a

painting. We board a beauty of a yacht, a well-designed craft ofcomfort.
White canvas canopies flap and billow in the wind, providing shade and
gentle breezes. A full expanse of white cushions throughout the deck
creates absolute comfort.We set off gently into calm waters, a perfect day for cruising. All ofuskick back into a relaxed enjoyment of sun and sea. We ease into the
inletof Memer and anchor to swim. Immediately, most of the women begin
diving and jumping into the water, laughing and rejoicing in the
coolnessof the sea and relief from the intense Mediterranean sun.
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We set off again, cruising the coast, taking in the sights. I relish the

changing colors of the sea. The waters shift from light green to bluegreen
to a deep turquoise. The sea is so clear that it appears shallow,
because it
looks as though you can see the ocean floor. But this is deceptive, as
diving proves it quite deep. We anchor off the coast again, this time
forlunch and another relaxing swim. It turns out our captain is as good a
cook as he is a skipper. He serves up a colorful array of Turkish salads

and fresh grilled fish, cooked to perfection, followed by breads and
freshfruits. All was absolutely delicious! Happy with our fullness and
drowsywith pleasure, we sail on. Approaching the site of Olympus, we set
anchorto go ashore and visit the ruins. Half the group decides to swim to
shore;the rest of us board a dinghy.
Olympus is set in a lovely picturesque cove lined by trees. The beach is

lovely, but painfully rocky on bare feet. After walking to the entrance
ofthe site, we begin our trek down a brambly path. Surrounded by rich and
wild vegetation, we fight killer branches and thorny berry bushes. We
navigate a hilly and obstructed trail, climbing rock and craggy stone,
following Meli, our fearless leader. Perspiring, we trek on, awaiting
therewards of sites. Finally we break through to an ancient path and the
ruinsof Olympus. We find beautiful arches composed of different colored
stones and the ruins of ancient dwellings. It is awesome! Seeing this
brings an intense awareness of an ancient people living in community.

Hiking further into the forest, we come upon a narrow and meandering
stream, an ancient waterway, also made of stone and still functioning
today to guide the running water from a nearby spring. We are soothed
by the cool, refreshing sounds of gurgling water in the stillness of
intenseheat. I can't resist; quickly unfastening my sandals I step into the
coolwater, experiencing immediate joy and relief from the heat. I reflect on
thewonder that I, a woman in the twenty-first century, can enjoy thesounds,
sense and pleasure of water gathered for community two millennia ago.

In one ruin are mosaic floors and mosaic pieces imbedded in the
building.These structures have rounded arches and half domes with a platform.
Was this a hearth? All of the stone structures are overgrown and wild
withfoliage. The trek is tough, but worth the effort to find this ancient
Lyciancity sleeping in the forest.Some of the women decide to swim back to the yacht, while the rest ofus,pooped, take the dinghy. The refreshing coolness of the water is
exhilarating. I float on my back, just letting go. The water is so incredibly
buoyant that it is effortless to stay afloat! What a dream! Here I am,
weightless in the Mediterranean Sea, relaxed beyond measure. I rest
floating in the arms of the Mother, the Goddess, the Sea. All is well.
At the end of the cruise, most of us are filled with deep satisfaction
as weenjoy the beauty of a twilight ride back to shore in a motorized dinghy.

Landing on the dock, we again encounter momentous history: the ancient
road built for Hadrian's arrival in Antalya, lined with large blocks of
graduated stone for seating crowds. One can easily imagine the color and

pageantry of Hadrian's arrival from this gateway to the sea.

As we arrive and prepare to do our ritual at the site at Phasalis, a
large
group of garrulous Turkish schoolchildren begins arriving, maybe sixty
kids with a few teachers. They are happy, they are loud, and they decide
to
sit right next to us. Meli saves the day by making an agreement with
them: if they are quiet she will tell them stories about Phasalis. Both
parties keep their word. Part of the deal is that the children will
recite the
daily Turkish Children's Pledge to our group. Their enthusiasm is
impressive, their voices high, percussive and snappy. One child, a girl,
was
designated to lead the group in a call and response. It was delightful
hearing and seeing these young, beautiful faces filled with such
promise.Here is the essence of the pledge, which was quite lengthy.

"I AM TURKISH. I AM HONEST. I AM HARDWORKING. I
PROMISE TO LOVE THE YOUNGEST AND RESPECT THE
ELDEST. I PROMISE TO SACRIFICE MY SOUL FOR MY PRINCIPLES."

I am very moved. I can't help thinking of our American children at home
and how they might benefit from a daily affirmation like this one.

We scout around and find a beautiful new location for the ritual on
"Aphrodite and Passion," a young pine forest overlooking the sea. Many
women have written erotic poems. These are wonderful, stimulating, fun,
even humorous. Beebe recites the Rumi poem "Like This" which
reminds us of the earthiness of spirituality. She also introduces the
"Mirror" dance. We dance in pairs, facing each other; one woman leads
and her partner follows her exact movements. It is important to make eye

contact, but non-emotive eye contact, so as to reflect back to your
partnerher essence, a reflection of the divine. At the close, joining in a
groupembrace of affection, we praise Aphrodite, the goddess of love. At
sunset,we all walk though a young pine forest and then through the ancient
ruins of Hadrian's gate. It is the perfect close of a perfect day!