I can tell that Tom does this bit every year. He seems so excited to do it, bouncing on his heels as he leads us to the tiny room inside of the old sugar mill.  

“We’re going to see Aphrodite. We’re going to see her as they worshipped her.” 

And to tell you the truth, he had looped me in a little before we walked in. 

“It’s not what you’re gonna expect.” 

But even thought it was funny when we walked in and Tom pointed at this giant black rock that looked like a nose and said, “That’s Aphrodite.”  

I understood completely.  

I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone on hikes or walked beaches or even just wandered around my own neighborhood and found a stone or a shell lying on the ground and felt moved.  

A sign from the universe or God or whatever, lying there waiting for me to find it.  

I can imagine it was maybe the same for the Cypriots who saw that rock. Because when something so ordinary can make you feel that way, like you can find something in it that makes it seem like more than it really is, that’s special.  

Although the Aphrodite the Cypriots worshipped isn’t the same Aphrodite we know from the classic Greek myths, the sparkling woman who walked out of a shimmering sea, there is still something to be said about putting Love above all else. 

The Athenians worshipped Athena, goddess of war and wisdom. The Roman turned their eyes towards a savior in Christ. It’s all so bloody and grim. Which isn’t to say love can’t be that way, too, because it can be. But the intention of love is peace. What’s more peaceful and solid and strong than a giant rock?  

So it made sense to me. And I looked at that big rock for a while, and I started to love it, too. 

-Abby