Dear Navel Diary, Are You Listening?
I was doing a crossword puzzle and got stumped by a clue—“omphalos”. Filling in the spaces around it spelled it out: n-a-v-e-l.
Now I know I have an omphalos. Isn’t that just the coolest word? Saying it out loud several times is bound to make me laugh. My first impression was that it should be something in a circus or some kind of a primitive musical instrument that makes a comical sound. It’s not. An omphalos is a navel! I went and looked it up just to be sure. So, I can say here and now that it is true—an omphalos is a navel, second definition—a hub, a central point, a focal point.
In fact, an omphalos sounds like something that SHOULD stick out. A hub, a center of activity and importance. I’m getting accustomed to the look of my navel anyway but this just reinforced my comfortability. I don’t feel quite as hateful toward it for betraying me and losing its youthful In-ey-ness. I'm aging and I have an Out-ey now—Ha, Ha! I have an omphalos that’s important enough to stick out and so it does and I almost like it again, just calling it something important like that.
The search is still on for Homeo Sweet Stasis, that perfect balance of all systems, nothing out of kilter. When I float on my back in life’s ebb and flow, my omphalos points straight up. What a perfect compass for where I'm headed. . . .
How I Lost My Belly Button and Found Myself