SOPHIAN WAY?

This is my icon of Sophia. The artist is Hrana Janto (1). I call my path a Sophian Way, and the image is emblematic both of the path and the inspiration behind it. At times I wonder whether this name and image are still appropriate. On the whole, I am not focused on deity, gender or celestial realms. If I look within, Sophia dissolves into pure presence at the heart of being, If I look outwards, she dissolves into the web of life. Non-dual awareing removes the need for a cosmic mother, messenger of light, or healer in the heart. Doesn’t it?
And yet …
A young child in me likes this picture very much. He would like to be Sophia’s friend. He senses that she might be the kind of older friend who is also a guide. The whole picture throws open a door to another, more radiant, dimension. He feels relaxed and at home. He loses himself in happiness.
Another part of me, a good bit older, would like to delete the immediately previous paragraph. He wants the post to suggest that the evolution of my inquiry has delegitimatised the Sophian trope, or meme, or whatever word he is reaching for. To be fair to him, his deeper wish is to be in integrity as an inquirer, and to be seen to be so. His intentions are sound, but anxiety and concern to get it right have narrowed his horizons.
A third part, believing in caution, personal privacy and self-compassion, would like to delete both of the last two paragraphs above. He would like to spend more time with the image, and find another approach to talking about it. I can see his point, but I’m not going to take him up this time. The writing process itself has been inquiry in action, belongs on the record, and feels Sophian to me.
(1) Artist Hrana Janto at http://hranajanto.com/ (The image at the top of this post is used with her permission.)




This is Wyndham Hill, Yeovil. I was born only a few hundred yards away, and I felt a close connection with it throughout my childhood. As representing ‘nature’ or the countryside, it felt safe when I was little and reassuring later on. It hasn’t changed much, and I am still reassured.
Above is the house I grew up in – the grey one. It was a pharmacy when I lived there, though it ceased to be that in 1973, three years after I left home at the age of 21. Its value as a retail site and community resource had long been weakened by a movement of people away from the old town and the building of a ring road within the modern town rather than around it. I don’t know about the later history of the house that brought about its dereliction. Clearly the house doesn’t now evoke the sense of safety and reassurance that it once did.


