Hagia Sophia:Holy Wisdom

Spiritual symmetry and canonical organizational belief systems offer up a quandary to a person such as myself. Apt to “go with the flow,” I suppose if I were to adhere to a structure of thought, the Tao might be most appropriate. Preferring instead wu wei, to stricture, I’d rather follow a less dogmatic ideology.

Nomadic tribes and Bronze Age peoples had an uncomplicated view of the world. The Moon’s reflection, revered for the light it brought to darkened forests and subterranean caves, garnered respect. The green returning from its long winter hiatus, along with the Sun’s return, elicited joy. Spirits of the long-deceased gave consult to those seeking refuge. Narratives told were edited and collated over the millennia resulting in the organized religions of today.


Either my parents were either too busy to indoctrinate me, or they understood that a belief system needs to be acquired slowly. I liken it to developing a taste for fine wine. What once seemed arid and acerbic is transmuted to full-bodied with hints of blackberry and cassis over time. Though many family and friends subscribed to an organized view of spirituality I could not. Throughout, I attempted to understand many religious doctrines but always found them constricting and decided to bow out of the entire process at a very early age. I simply maintained a faith in nature since it has always abided by me, allowing myself instead to absorb the natural magic around me with the knowledge that we, like the tides, flow in and out of life. Without hostility towards binding spirit into manuscript, agnosticism seemed a better fit when gods and saints and angels were not part of my repertoire.

Then on a blustery, snowy predawn morning on March 17th 2007, an angel fell to earth and into my arms.

Not being familiar with the congenital birth defect gastroschisis, I immediately sought to understand it in its entirety. Reading medical journals and literature seeking explanation for this aberration in nature, I was relentless in my search for answers.

Gastroschisis is a condition seldom encountered; however of late is on the rise statistically. It occurs when during gestation the human fetus’s intestinal organs form outside of the abdominal wall. The amniotic fluid surrounding the unprotected organs, caustic from uric acid secretions in the waste from the fetus, causes the organs to swell, pushing them out through the skin usually to the right of the umbilicus.

At birth, the infant must endure immediate surgery to place the organs back inside the abdomen. Aside from being bathed in uric acid while inside the womb, once born, the organs are exposed to the air and subject to drying out and further bacterial infection.

More severe is an omphalocele, mostly occurring in males, in which a larger opening is present in the abdominal wall. Treatment generally consists of placing a silo around the organs and utilizing pressure over a period of days to weeks to coax the organs back into position. The literature as to the cause of this birth defect is somewhat weak. The etiology is not fully known. It seems to occur in women under 30. It is not linked to chromosome abnormality or attributed to drug use.

They chose to call her Sophia and when she gazed at me for the first time I recognized a distant familiarity. As though acquainted in some long-ago time and place, we knew one another at once. Repressed by extreme malaise and qualm she lay stoic, a tiny courageous female warrior. She seemed to possess some innate wisdom of her surroundings, her anguish, and the world. Volumes were exchanged between mine and those baby eyes.

Soon, time passed and she healed quite well aside from some periodic abdominal disturbances.

On her tummy, a faint star-shaped scar remained where a belly button should have been. Repeatedly she would point at it and look at those around her for answers.

Unknown she and I were to the origin of her name: the Hagia Sophia, a large basilica in Constantinople, which translated means Holy Wisdom. The imperial capital of the Roman Empire oddly enough would be my home once as a child.

She tenderly spoke in a sweet little voice only a baby could have. Inquisitively, “Nona, where is my belly-button?” she’d ask. Rather than reply with an explanation of the variances in nature or how the surgeon made her tummy all better, I assured her from the depths of my spirit, “Because angels don’t have belly buttons, Sophia.”

This article was first published on Blogcritics.

Read more: http://blogcritics.org/culture/article/hagia-sophia-holy-wisdom/page-2/#ixzz1EMmsb49n

Dodging New Jersey for Southern Solace


Growing up in central New Jersey there was a lot to be grateful for. It was not the industrial waste zone most visualize when thinking about New Jersey. Surrounded by farmland, open spaces, and the Pine Barrens just to the south, our childhoods were filled with sunshine and fresh air. Our yards were spacious and there were woodlands to hike and explore. Monarch butterflies and Baltimore Orioles filled the trees during their migration turning them ablaze with color. To the north was New York City, entertainment mecca of the world. Its flavors filtered down to us in the piedmont and beckoned us to come taste its wares. In summers, our seashore drew millions of visitors for salty surf, splintered boardwalks, and sugary taffy.

Soon though the large spaces were invaded by subdivisions and strip malls. The pastoral life living lakeside would present largesse to tax collectors seeking monies from landowners in order to fish or ice skate in their own backyards. And so the exodus began.


Longing for “greenspace,” I moved to my college state, Florida. Everglades and Spanish mosses weaving through tropical breezes, sunsets offering inspiration to the painter, poet, or songwriter, and tranquil warm seas that soothe the weary soul.

It too has become but once upon a dream. The Miami sound machine, its newer populace and cultural fragmentation have altered the Floridian landscape. The disenfranchised arrive seeking asylum from the stressors of life and inadvertently add to the chaos. Gone are the days of serenity and solitude in a southern oasis. No longer the charming and sultry days reminiscent of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings and Ernest Hemingway; bright lights, fast cars, and faster lifestyles permeate the languid coastal towns and farther out to the center of the state. It is heartbreaking to bear witness. May we yet find comfort in some corner of the world with which to commune? Even the Everglades does not see the dark of the moon.

Shall I run forevermore? Straight from childhood visions to rummage a bit of quiet to embrace. To seek a simple corner to lay down a weary heart and head. Where birdsong drowns out the frenetic pace. Where will you go? they will ask. Another planet, perhaps, I will answer.

This article first appeared on Blogcritics.

Read more: http://blogcritics.org/culture/article/dodging-new-jersey-for-southern-solace/#ixzz1EMlwjp7I