Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Threes are massing
I'm standing in my kitchen, talking to Ravyn over my shoulder. Not dreary, but me, at my kitchen window and Ravyn, perched at the table behind me.
It happens again. I see the threes. They've gathered in here for a month or so, quietly massing on the window sill, the countertops, the refrigerator and even outside on the patio table.
They are spirited here by the creature in my head who wants them. It is a subtle little beast, who creates threes by addition and subtraction--Three bottles collected here, but I broke the forth canister accidentally
I don't think about numbers outside of mathematics, normally. I don't think about numerology or astrology because, well, I just haven't gotten to those yet.
Recently I came across a copy of Ramsey Campbell's Eleven that has a thread of something I think is numerology. I see references to "meanings" of numbers and have a number (pun intended, sorry) of collectors who always request specific numbers for numbered editions and prints.
This is the third time (I'm not kidding) I've discovered flocks of threes. Each time before, I shoo'd them away. I went searching and disbanded others as I found them.
I'm not talking about arrangements of art on the walls or furniture groupings. Those are natural elements of design (which is another subject entirely.)
I'm talking about random groups of things that could be found in any other number. In this case they are:
Three bottles waiting for recycle
Three tins (of five) from Orion's party
Three steel ball magnets on the fridge (used the forth yesterday for the studio fridge)
Three rooting pencil cacti
Three tea cups (of seven)
Three potted herbs
Three narrow vases (I moved one last week)
Three canisters---minus one broken
And that's just the kitchen.
There are more, including threes of towels, paperclips, reading glasses, printer cartridges, bottled water, apples and yes, candy wrappers.
Third time's the charm?
As I type this I look out the office window. There are three crows in the tree past the fence.
I stand up to look at them and, with a great deal of flapping, they are gone.
Okay. I'm onto you three. Now what?
Do you think, now that I'm aware of them, they'll go away?