Driving around the area of Cyprus near the village in which we are staying, your eyes are drawn to a beautiful, imposing mountain that rises up out of the landscape. Winding roads lead to the summit and atop this mountain you can see a large building. This is Stavrovouni - a place where Christian pilgrims travel to visit the huge and famous monastery and it is also our destination today.
However, I am not here for the monastery.
Thousands of years ago, pilgrims forged their way through thorny thickets under the searing sun, but it was not to reach a monastery. Buried beneath the bricks of the monastery are the remains of a temple, a temple to the Goddess of Love and Beauty, Temple to Aphrodite. Great feasts and rituals were once held here in Her honour. Fragrant incense was burned for Her, flowers were offered to Her (and in all likelihood her worshippers made crazy love in the house of the Goddess of love and who can blame them!) Where is that temple now, I hear you ask. We already know the answer. Christianity arrived and Her temple was destroyed and replaced with buildings that honoured the new father god from the Middle East. I know that Christianity (and the other Abrahamic religions) bring hope and comfort and community to millions, however I cannot help but lament for the Temple that was lost.
Nevertheless, Aphrodite was adored here for many hundreds of years and those energies are not so lightly erased. One does not simply remove the Goddess of Love and so today I am here to ascend this mountain and call Her back in. It is the end of July and it is scorching; I think about those pilgrims slogging their way up this mountainside in blistering heat thousands of years ago... while I am driven up in a sublimely air-conditioned car, sipping on my rose milkshake while my favourite Greek pop music plays on the radio (we may no longer have the ancient temple but there are *some* perks to living in the 21st century).
The road climbs upward and my ears pop; at every turn the monastery grows closer and while I am excited to reach the top, I am also a little melancholy (and to be brutally honest, angry) at what the monastery sits upon like a greedy child supplanting its parent. when we finally reach the top I am almost relieved to find the monastery closed due to Covid. it is for the best; in all likelihood I would have stomped around like a very grumpy witch, scowling and grudgingly appreciating the architecture against my will.
We drive down a little and I spot a small path that winds around the top of the mountain. We park up and I grab my priestess bag which holds my precious white shawl, my Aphrodite statue, my latest favourite oracle deck (Priestesses of Light), my sage stick and a small bottle of Aphrodite wine that I found here in Debenhams of all places. We make our way down the small, stony path (stamping our feet in case any snoozing snakes happen to be sunning themselves). After while we come across a bench and it seems like the perfect place to stop. My partner sinks down gratefully on the bench (the sun is beating down on us and for the million time I have dragged them to a deserted spot in blazing heat in search of yet another sacred site). I am always very grateful; they know how important my Goddess quests are to me and they have spent years ferrying me to faraway places.
The view is stunning. Far below the Cyprus landscape stretches away and eventually reaches the shimmering sea. Insects sing in the bushes and the sun shines down brightly from an impossibly blue sky. It is perfect.
I wrap my sacred white shawl around myself and then I ground myself. I do this by kicking off my sandals and wriggling my toes into the warm red soil and feeling my connection to Mother Earth. I breathe in and fill my lungs with the warm air. Turning my face upwards I close my eyes and feel the sun's life-giving light and warmth (well, right now at the height of Cyprus summer it is more like a skin-shrivelling furnace but that doesn't sound quite so poetic). Finally I look out towards the sea. Earth, air, fire, water.
Reaching into my Priestess bag I take out my beloved Aphrodite statue and place her gently on the mountainside. I raise my hands. My white shawl flaps in the breeze, the gem in my ring sparkles in the intense sunlight and I feel my Priestess self emerge.
I call Her back in:
"Stavrovouni, Stavrovouni,
Once great temple of Aphrodite,
I call you back into this sacred place,
Once again this mountain it is Goddess space"
I am a Priestess of the Mount Shasta Goddess Temple and yesterday I told my Priestess sisters about my quest here to reclaim Aphrodite and right now many of them are chanting along with me, some as far away as Hawaii. Words have energy, words have power and as I chant, I know that Aphrodite is returning.
I feel a deep, powerful rush of emotion that is hard to describe. Carefully I lift up my state and hold her up to the top of the mountain. Closing one eye I place her 'on top' of the monastery. Back where she belongs. This is not an act of disrespect; this new religion displaced Goddess, here and all around the world and I am merely redressing the balance. Lastly, I take out my small bottle of Aphrodite wine and pour some out on to the hot rocks as an offering to Her.
I say my chant three more times and visualise her Temple at the top of the mountains - a shimmering temple of energy that is invisible but is nevertheless always there. It is time to leave - the sun is lowering and the sky is becoming a beautiful palette of reds and oranges. Somehow far down below is a little tavern which serves fresh fish and Greek salad and I am ready to stuff my face, Priestessing is hungry work!
I hope that everyone who climbs this sacred mountain feels the presence of Aphrodite. of Goddess, of the Divine Feminine and that they remember that for millenia - god was a woman.
Thankyou very much.