15 She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her.16 Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honour.17 Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.18 She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her.
That's from Proverbs chapter 3. This wisdom chick, this Sophia, this infinitely desirable lady that had Solomon up in arms. Who was she? Do we have an ancient desert dude smoking his hookah and dreaming up a metaphor that caught on and made it into the Black Book itself? Is it a good way to take some of the edge off of the super bloody, aggressive, masculine attack dog that was the yahweh of the covenant? Did Solomon retaineth her?
This chapter on wisdom is as evocative as it ever was. I can see my scribbled notes in the margins, the little indicator that I read this in 2007. Gems. Rubies. Get those rubies. This wisdom as a woman thing, what is that? What is all of it?
On occasion when I close my eyes and let it all fall away, let those thoughts, those capering satyrs and the rest of Oberon's retinue scamper away into the blackness, I get a whiff of that perfume once again.
Those lips, forming the ancient words with unsure deliberateness, white teeth glinting in the sun that flickers on an off without warning.
How can I find wisdom if the road keeps folding in on itself? How can I keep these walls from stretching? What am I supposed to do? Where is this instruction, Lord? How can I wrap my hands around this untouchable femme fatale, the very means through which heaven and earth were established?
Plunge into the deeps. Fly to the heavens. Peer into the cracks, into the in-between, the underneath. What lies under the glossy surface, the gleaming billboards and the screens? Where is she? I saw her at the river this afternoon, and she was laughing. Where is she now?
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