Today’s topic centers on the Greek concept of the omphalos – centers on it, that is, because in addition to its translation as the anatomic term for “navel” (i.e., “belly-button”), the word also conveys the sense of a center, point of focus, or origin[1]. Anything lying at the center of a circle might be described as an omphalos; or, more properly, a circle might be thought of as the set of points equidistant from the omphalos. Most often, this usage applied to the boss that protruded from the center of a circular shield (cheaper on eBay).
This notion of centrality was not merely spatial, but spiritual and figurative in other ways. In addition to its location near the body’s center of gravity and center of spatial volume, the navel was accorded special significance due to its physiological function as the umbilical nexus through which the embryonic human takes in substance (er…matter) from its mother. It was thus regarded more transcendently as the source and center of one’s physical being – the cause or defining mechanism of one’s presence in space and time[2]. Likewise, the omphalos of a shield was not only the point of attachment for a handle, but could also play a crucial role in construction of the shield, as it provided a way to hold the unfinished object while working on its surface. Something with an omphalos was considered to exist by virtue of having a past, of which the omphalos was a vestige.
More abstractly, the pre-Socratic Greek philosophers described the state of “being” (the general fact of existence, in the later metaphysical sense, as opposed to an actual creature) using imagery of a circle or a sphere. Figuratively used, the image expressed the principle that no “quality of being” had greater or lesser reality, but that all existence shared a uniform degree of reality, emerging from and standing in equal relation to a unifying, original principle – the omphalos.
To the Greeks, though, this reference to an origin was not just theoretical – not merely an intellectual construct, positing a unifying reference point in the space-time continuum, the way we think abstractly, for instance, about the (0,0) origin of a Cartesian plane. It also offered a practical reference, complete with a geographical location and paid staff, for evaluating daily life with respect to immutable, if rather inscrutable, principles of what was true, right, and good. Such truth, of course, was to be found at the venue that housed the Mother of All Omphali:
I’ll conclude with a corollary to the Delphic omphalos tradition that both presents an enigma and provokes further thought. Aside from Apollo’s activities there, the location of
1. Or, as the celebrated lesbian poet Olga Broumas might prefer it, an o-rigin.
2. Human beings seem inherently receptive to this idea. Even Harry Potter, when he learns to pass from one realm to another by means of a portkey, feels a sensation described as a tug or jerk just behind his navel.
3. Most scholarly commentators describe this artifact as “beehive shaped”, and indeed (as the caption to the linked photo points out), it was crafted as a replacement to resemble the original stone – a meteorite – draped with the mesh used to cover beehives. As a Gentile Jew living in the
4. One might wonder whether this designation reflects some anatomical – not to mention symbolic – confusion on the part of the Greeks. As the caption states, the stone marked the point “where Apollo first established his oracle by driving the serpent monster Python into the Earth (=Gaia).” So…the big, scary snake entered the Earth Mother through the bellybutton? And after that, eternal truths issued from the depths at this same point? It seems the snake might have been better advised to start its spelunkean adventures elsewhere – nearby, perhaps – after which the Earth might have brought forth some incarnation whose own umbilicus linked it directly to the originating wisdom of the Mother. Surely, though, I’m being too schematic, as if such mystical things might be proven by algebra. Still, if you ever have house guests from
5 Which reminds me of a story involving the
6. Remind me, if I forget, to talk about Nemerov’s gulls.





