She was studying biology and was in love with the micro-cosmos.

“Why don’t you go to lab, then?” Alice asked. “It would be better if you stay there. At least we’ll know where to find you.”

Marylyn breathed and responded. “You know, there are three tiers of knowledge. One is while you sit in class. There, you just hear about cells, the plants, and various kinds of bacteria. When you are in lab, you see that the knowledge you know so far is just a narrative. But when I am in nature, even it is only one tree, I can live it. I can breathe in, breathe out, and each time my cells will appreciate me, my soul will feel refreshed. I wish I could breathe in all knowledge as such. I wish I could be more into their hidden world.”

“You know, I love hiking,” Sharon said. “I love seeing places that I have never been to. To get to know a tree I have never been introduced to before is a way of getting to know the wilderness friendship community. I try hard to have a meaning each time I walk on a new trail. There is that huge connection and circulation in nature. A drop of water that was once at Manhattan Beach can return back to the Bay Area as morning dew. A leaf that left the family tree in one fall can return to her wilderness society in the form of a new nutrient that serves birds or other animals in the form of a new plant. Scientists follow birds that travel for years, but we all travel around. That makes us a family. All are given to the service of humans at the end. Beauty is the thing that makes me think the most. Each snow crystal has a unique blueprint, though we cannot see that with our bare eyes. When an ocean wave pounds the shore, the way the drops of water scatter is very mathematical. You can measure it, and figure out a pattern. But does the water know this? Do flowers know how to calculate how to take off their petals, mathematically, every morning when they see the sun? If not, what kind of knowledge is it? As a human, am I the only one who can read this knowledge?

“If so, we are given both a big responsibility and a very deep honor. I cannot appreciate enough that duty and honor. But, my problem is it is not as easy to read or listen to the language of the universe as it is to read a book. But I imagine, if I could listen to that language, what would it feel like? I would have new friends each and every day from nature, friends who would have scientific names. But I know them beyond science. This is a knowledge of friendship. This is beyond just names; it is to be able to carry a conversation and be one of them.”

“You are funny,” Alberto said. “You should have studied philosophy.”

Karen was silent until that moment. “What you say about three layers of knowledge, reminded me of 3-D movies. It’s as if you would rather be in that movie. But I suppose we do not have a 4-D.”

“I agree,” continued Alice. “But I assume there is something in nature that tells you even though you are in the most beautiful place, it will not last long. Or you will not be able to penetrate into it. You are just an outsider. When you read a book, you can have a special imagined space for that book in your mind. Movies are different. Say, you read Great Expectations. Your characters and places are unique to you when you read it. No cinema can substitute the places and characters your imagination generates in your little world. So when you read, you enter into a secret world of your own. It is so secret that sometimes, even words or art cannot describe it. You travel to the tops of mountains, or to city centers – except those places only exist inside of you. And you can go to those places whenever you want to.

“Nature is like the words on the page of a book. The first layer of knowledge is to attain the ability to read. But when letters composed of leaves come together and form a word from a tree, and when you put trees together what does the sentence of the forest say to you? This is, again, a secret world. First it reads, then it tells, then it speaks, and I suppose at the zenith, it feels. When we go into the wilderness, the first impression is that feeling. Then we go backwards and try to see where it speaks, what it says, what it writes. At the zenith of that inner journey, we meet ourselves as a reader of nature. We are interlocutor, we are in a conversation that touches, that encompasses, but it is beyond the limits of even 4-D. We do not know how to describe it. Thus, we can only say that it feels.”

“Well, is it like me when I want to lie in one letter of a song?” Liam asked. “Or take that word as a jacket and wear it for days? Once we even discussed with my friends in philosophy club whether to initiate a group on wearing the sounds of words in our every day presence. A friend once made a presentation on how we talk out our inner self when we meditate and how that moment of meditation is indeed a replica of nature speaking in its own language. He brought pictures both from nature and from other traditions. He showed how sitting in silence is reminiscent of how trees with big, strong roots lay out on the earth. He showed how oceans and the earth prostrate, teaching us to be humble despite the fact that oceans and water compose 70% of the world and the rest is the soil. He showed us flowers that open their hands and arms to reach out beyond the sky and heavens. When we bow down, we intend to leave our carnal selves in the shape of an animal on four legs, he believed. In his presentation, nature spoke in the form of a human. But I do not know the reverse. Can humans decipher more than the symbolic language of nature? Can we delve in between the lines of the book of universe?”

‘This is a very sophisticated talk. I’m not sure I can add much to it,” Suzie said. “Yet, I see that this is also our daily lives. You know my friends in art school, we seek ways to make things speak in the language of art. I suppose one flower is an example of the highest level of sophistication in the artistic language. Humans can make that flower speak in zillions of languages. But art also feels. The regular words are just a tool to express the meaning. It is mostly a knowledge that is revealed in the forms of feeling. Is feeling also a type of knowledge?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Evan responded. “My professor used to say that sometimes a great article begins with an unsatisfied feeling. You do research and find out that you were not satisfied because of an aspect you missed or that you were right and the literature dismissed one important point. Thus, we shall not underestimate feelings as a point of origin, but we have to dig deeper for the source of knowledge. Feelings are a trigger; the rest is all on the results of the analysis.”

“Well then,” Sharon said. “It is five minutes to my class. Hope to see you again afterwards?”

I am placed inside your chest cavity as two air sacks-or bellows-surrounded by your muscles. I took my first breath right after birth and I still keep working non-stop. Even while you are sleeping, I fulfill my function with the automatic command I receive from the respiratory center at the back of your brain. My close friend Heart started working even before me while you were in the womb. I was resting then; actually I hadn’t even formed fully. As all your needs like food and oxygen were met in the body of your mother-whose heart you occasionally break-I didn’t have to make extra effort to get air, being filled and emptied. Even if I had attempted to do so, I would have had no chance of succeeding; since you were contained in the amniotic fluid, an attempt to breathe could have caused you to drown.

The first breath I take after birth is critical and rather difficult, since the windpipe is still much narrower than normal. On the other hand, the number of my alveoli where oxygen exchange with the capillaries is realized is so high in relation to body size that it balances the situation. When I make my first move and fill with air, I put pressure on the arteries and veins. Then the vessel directly connecting my artery to my mother’s aorta is dismissed, the curtain between the valves is closed and the blood circulations are separated. If this curtain is not properly closed and a gap remains in between, the oxygen-rich blood and the used-up blood mix and result in the disease known as cyanosis-or “blue baby” syndrome. As these two kinds of blood mix, the tissues are not supplied with sufficient oxygen and the white parts of the skin and eyes assume a bluish appearance.

Turning blue-purple due to lack of oxygen in the tissues is the same for smokers. Cigarettes-my archenemy-contain hundreds of toxic substances, such as carbon monoxide, which combine with the hemoglobin in blood and prevent oxygen transfer. Therefore, the lips of smokers turn slightly purple. You need to be careful with the air you inhale. The windpipe which brings air into me is covered with a ciliated epithelial tissue which catches the dust brought along and sweeps it outside. While you are asleep, the vibrating cilia of this sweeper work throughout the night and in the morning you get rid of the outcome of their propulsion by clearing your throat. However, every draw of a smoker kills 800–1,000 of our ciliated epithelial cells. After some time, they become unable to sweep the toxins (carbon, sulfur, lead, etc) inhaled with the air. I can’t stand it anymore! The increased air pollution is already putting enough strain on us… this habit is just too much for a lung to handle! It is just… an open invitation for cancer! Sorry, Peter, I didn’t mean to be rude. I appreciate that you don’t smoke, but I wish those who do would realize how splendid a mechanism they are destroying.

Now let me tell you about what a work of art I am. As you also know, art in a structure becomes more meaningful with functionality. As is the case with my other friends with which I work in your body, I am perfectly made to fulfill my duty. In other words, never mind forming an organ like me as a consequence of molecules and cells accidentally coming together, even a single protein molecule in my structure does not come to existence through unconscious causes.

With every breath you take, the pressure of the oxygen within the air inhaled rises, so it passes through my membranes by diffusion and into the adjacent capillaries; there it combines with hemoglobin molecules. At the same time, the carbon dioxide passes through the same membranes into me, and I dispose of it. Both of these are easier said than done! You breathe 13–14 times a minute and the whole thing is repeated over and over. As I keep expanding and contracting during breathing, which you are unaware of most of the time, first of all I need to be very flexible. Together with this flexibility, my most important quality is having the largest possible surface area within the smallest volume. My surface area of around 100m2 (as large as a tennis court) is made to fit into your chest cavity in the form of thin membranes so that my large surface allows gas diffusion. These membranes need to be kept wet; a special fluid is secreted as a precaution and respiration is realized smoothly. Without this fluid, my membranes would just stick together, unable to carry out their duty.

You can compare the course of the air inhaled to that of a car passing from a highway onto increasingly smaller roads and in the end reaching a dead end in the small sacks named alveoli. The air coming in through the mouth and nose unites at the expressway named the trachea, or the windpipe, which is 15cm long and 2–3cm in diameter. Incidentally, I have a couple of things to tell you about the way you breathe. As a matter of fact, inhaling is the duty of the nose. I’m sure it also has a lot to say as well, but let me just mention a simple fact about it. Now, you should inhale through your nose, so that the air you take in gets warm, wet, and is cleaned from dust. If you try to breathe this way, you do not trouble me much, and reduce the risk of catching a cold or an infection of upper respiratory system. Inhaling through the mouth helps dust and germs get into me and you might contract various illnesses from bronchitis to pneumonia. Now you know why kids who have adenoids who sleep with their mouth open get ill so easily. Sorry, I couldn’t help speaking on behalf on the nose.

Well, what were we talking about before that? Oh yes! The ways through which the inhaled air passes. As the name suggests, the windpipe which makes the air reach me is a cylindrical tube surrounded by 16–20 cartilaginous rings. As it is placed beside the esophagus, one side of the rings is made of soft cartilaginous tissue instead of hard, so that they don’t hinder swallowing. The muscular tissue near these rings helps them widen and narrow during respiration or coughing. I sometimes warn you by making you cough. Maybe it seems to be a disturbance, but if I don’t push out air by coughing through the contracted windpipe, contaminants can clog me up and cause you to suffocate. Therefore, the burst of air-what you call a cough-is a great blessing to you.

The sound system at the tip of the windpipe is another wonder. The used air I send out vibrates the cords in that voice-box and produces such melodies, gives voice to such speech! The air divides into the two lungs. My two sides are not symmetrical; the one on the right is divided into three, and the one on the left into two. I think this was meant to make room for the neighbor on the left, the heart. In addition, if there’s any cancer growth in me, the diseased part can be taken out by an operation and I can keep on functioning. God knows the wisdom behind this form. After that, these main bronchi separate into 8–10 thinner branches, like highways connecting to narrower roads. This branching resembles a tree turned upside down. At the tips of these thin branches are the respiratory bronchioles resembling clusters of grapes. The small spheres which make up the cluster are the end of the road and are the most vital parts. These spheres named alveoli are made of very thin membrane and they are surrounded by a net of capillaries (picture 5). These are the functional spots where gas exchange is realized.

I hang in the thorax with veins and arteries all around. There are two layers of protective membrane over me. One of them is stuck on me, whereas the other is stuck on the ribs which form the chest cavity. There is a fine and slippery fluid in between these two layers and it neutralizes the friction every time I inflate and deflate. If it hadn’t been placed there, I would wear out and be damaged. As I inflate during inhalation, the chest cavity should expand simultaneously to make space for me. If it weren’t given a flexible form, I would fail to breathe and you would eventually die. Fortunately, the protective set of ribs and their connection with the spine are flexible enough to make me work comfortably. In addition, the dome-shaped muscular partition (diaphragm) separating the thorax from the abdomen contracts and pushes down the organs in the abdomen. Thanks to the simultaneously programmed movement of both the ribs and the diaphragm I inflate with air and expand.

Being in constant contact with the outer environment makes me susceptible to various diseases. Coughing is among the foremost signals I give in the case of disease, and sometimes-excuse me-I produce a mixture of blood and phlegm. Also, I may have difficulty in breathing and warn you with chest pain. You should be alert to my signals. If bacteria and viruses infect me, they might reproduce inside my air sacs, and cause stiffening and suppuration.

I am particularly sensitive to allergic disorders. When the straight muscles on the walls of my bronchi contact an alien substance, pollens for instance, the consequent histamine secretion makes my muscles contract. In addition, allergic diseases, which can affect blood vessels, affect me a lot since I happen to be one of the major organs contributing to blood circulation. As a result of the contraction of my bronchial muscles and difficulty in disposing of the mucus I secrete to defend myself, I have trouble with breathing-you call it asthma.

In addition to this, we can mention diseases like emphysema, acute or chronic bronchitis as problems I frequently face. Even your anger has a great impact on me. Breathing becomes more difficult immediately.

Peter, I’m sorry, it is not possible to summarize a work of art like me within a few pages, but I need to stop now… but please, keep away from polluted areas and cigarette smoke! Send me as much fresh air as you can. And even though you mostly take me for granted, like my other teammates, please reflect upon what a blessing I am.

Irfan Yilmaz is a professor of biology at Dokuz Eylül University, Izmir, Turkey.

The air that we breathe consists of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen and 1% other gases, such as water, carbon dioxide, and carbon monoxide. First of all, the level of oxygen in the air is of extreme importance; that is, if the air were to contain 40% oxygen instead of the normal 21%, then there would be no life on Earth. Most living organisms, if not all, would die due to oxygen poisoning. Their proteins and DNA would be oxidized and become non-functional. Metals would be corroded and trees would burn at slightly higher temperatures than normal.

Vertebrates have been equipped with two principal mechanisms to supply their cells with an adequate and continuous flow of oxygen. The first one is the circulatory system and the second one is oxygen-carrying molecules; hemoglobin in the red blood cells and myoglobin in the muscles. The air we breathe is filtered even before it reaches our lungs. Then, it dissolves in the mucus, a highly viscous material, which coats the inside of our lungs. Next, the dissolved oxygen diffuses into the blood through alveolar cells and the walls of the capillary vessels. Finally, the oxygen is picked up by the red blood cells; these are what make our blood red. The red color is due to a molecule called heme that is present in hemoglobin and myoglobin. Every heme molecule in hemoglobin can bind four oxygen molecules together. Every oxygen molecule bound to hemoglobin increases the affinity of hemoglobin to bind to another oxygen molecule. The hemoglobin becomes saturated if the dissolved oxygen is above a certain level; this can be seen in the lungs. If the level of dissolved oxygen drops below a certain level, as can be seen in tissues like the muscles, brain, and liver, then the oxygen molecules start to dissociate from the hemoglobin. Likewise, every dissociating oxygen molecule facilitates the dissociation of another oxygen molecule from the hemoglobin. This is one miraculous design that is known to us: a molecule devoid of any wisdom and intelligence grasps a very crucial cargo where it is abundant, carries it to a place where the cargo is most needed and less abundant, and releases it. The myoglobin in the muscle tissue then binds the oxygen and serves as an oxygen backup resource for times when there is inadequate oxygen supply during exertion.

Fetuses have their own specific hemoglobin, called hemoglobin-F, which is different from that of adult hemoglobin, hemoglobin-A. Before birth, the fetus gets its oxygen from the mother’s blood through the placenta. The higher affinity of hemoglobin-F than hemoglobin-A to oxygen makes the oxygen exchange between the maternal and fetal blood possible. It is interesting to note that right around the time of birth the fetus switches the production of hemoglobin-F to hemoglobin-A, as this is more efficient under normal breathing conditions. Our current knowledge is insufficient to completely understand how this switch-over occurs and how it is regulated. Future studies will shed light on this complex but magnificent mechanism of regulation and this superb design.

Why are we so dependent on oxygen? In fact, our energy metabolism is completely dependent on oxygen. The chemical breakdown of nutrients by a dozen enzymes releases energy, which as is cannot be stored or transferred to the places where it is required. We are equipped with a second mechanism, which involves another set of different proteins that converts the released chemical energy to a more useful and transferable molecular form, called ATP. ATP, which we can think of as small packages of energy, is the main form of energy within our cells that can be readily used by all reactions that require energy. The first set of enzymes abstracts electrons from the nutrients during their chemical breakdown. These so called high-energy electrons are transferred from one protein to the next by the second set of proteins that form the electron transport chain. The final acceptor of these electrons is molecular oxygen. If oxygen were not there to pick up the electrons at the end of this chain, the last protein (cytochrome oxidase) would lead to a dead end, as it would be rendered inactive with the electrons that it is carrying. This would make this superb design of complex mechanism useless and wasteful; the synthesis of every new and active cytochrome oxidase would require more energy than is produced in one cycle of an electron transfer in the absence of oxygen.

It has been known for some time that cells can sense the level of oxygen in their environment. They are equipped not only with a sensing mechanism, but also with a response mechanism, by which they can survive for a short period of time. In 1995, a protein called HIF (Hypoxia Inducible Factor) was identified and was shown to regulate cellular response to hypoxia, i.e., a reduced oxygen level. HIF is a transcription factor, which induces the expression of a set of genes that are required for survival under hypoxia. Several genes encoding glycolytic enzymes are regulated under hypoxia; this allows cells to produce ATP even without oxygen. Nevertheless, oxygen-independent energy generation is very inefficient and the yield is insufficient. Another set of genes induce angiogenesis (vascularization), or the making of new capillary vessels. VEGF (vascular endothelial growth factor) is one of the best known HIF target genes that induces the formation of new vessels where expressed.

One of the most remarkable aspects of HIF-based oxygen sensing is that under normal oxygen levels the HIF protein is simultaneously synthesized and degraded. Only under low levels of oxygen does HIF accumulate and induce its target genes. At first sight, this continuous production and degradation of HIF may look wasteful, whereas in reality it is a very well designed precautionary mechanism. The HIF protein is marked and sent for degradation by a class of enzymes called HPH/PHD. These enzymes also use the oxygen molecule to tag the HIF protein. If there were not enough oxygen around, HPH/PHD enzymes would not be able to tag HIF. As a result HIF accumulates and induces its target genes to ensure the adequate supply of oxygen. With this mechanism cells can quickly adapt and survive. Therefore, continuous production and degradation of HIF turns out to be a necessary precautionary measure which is taken against the risk of death arising from a low oxygen level.

This article is by no means a complete picture of the miraculous world of oxygen, perhaps it is no more than a brush stroke on the entire picture. Yet, even this incomplete glimpse is enough to help us realize how perfectly we have been created, and how well we are taken care of. We do not have even the slightest control over any of these aforementioned mechanisms. We breathe day and night, and every breath should be taken in gratitude to God, who created us as this masterpiece.

Al-Aqsa was fortunate to exist in the same time period as the Kabah. And, just like the Kabah, it emerged from the ground as if bursting forth to comply with orders coming from above. Sometimes it was exalted to the rank of being the niche for devout people, and at other times it served as the pulpit of holy individuals. For centuries, this sacred and blessed place opened its wings to its inhabitants, even at the most pitiless times of disbelief. It let believers breathe security while becoming the paradise of this life.

This sublime temple now looks at our faces with sorrow and exhaustion. Her face has been darkened by suffering, for she is far from what she once was: the source of thousands of holy experiences. When we contemplate al-Aqsa Mosque in this pitiful state, it feels like we are bleeding internally and can no longer breathe. This auspicious niche, this honored pulpit that once had celestial whispers coming to our hearts, now looks like a candle that has been put out, a skeleton about to collapse.

Al-Aqsa Mosque is a victim of injustice and cruelty. Her existence is squeezed in between her friends infidelity and her enemies torture. Once she had her lips at our hearts whispering tranquility, not knowing that in the future she would become a stammering tongue singing a song of sadness.

When I first saw her current appearance, I was deeply saddened. From now on, faithful hearts will not be able to meet and hug each other with love, or to roar Allah’s name among the walls of this place in which Prophet Adam’s voice still echoes, Prophet Abraham’s breaths are still felt, Prophets David’s and Solomon’s cries are still heard, and Prophet Muhammad’s journey to infinity to unite with his Beloved is still known. Alas, these doors will not be able to open wide to believers “ neither slowly nor quickly and without happiness and enthusiasm.

It looks like all of her dreams and fancies are now over, her surrounding lights turned off, the prayers to God heard no longer. It is said that even the rocks and trees have ears. Would that they had tongues too! Yes, for then they could express what they have been through. Perhaps then the people who did this would be afraid and abstain from their evil. Maybe then her faithless companions would come to their senses and rescue her from this tragic slavery.