mistake in the equation―it's part of the equation.
—Jeanette Winterson
According to Uri Geller, the endless reoccurrence of these hours 11:11, 11:01, 11:10, 10:01, 10:11, 10:10, 1:01, 1:11 represents a positive connection and a gateway to the mysteries of the universe and beyond.
Hell and heaven—sounds like eleven! Well, either that, or good ole Uri’s trying to make sense of 9:11.
Still, if I let my mind wander, I begin thinking there might be something in what he says. I mean, every time I look at a clock lately, it’s 11:11.
Isn’t that the same for you? No? —Oh well, maybe the Cosmos is just re-programming my mind.
As you might have guessed, I’m a Mathematician. My hero’s Leibniz, a dead white man who’s been decomposing for nearly four hundred years. He was a Sinophile and obsessed with binary patterns in the I Ching.
Lately, the same binary number keeps turning up in my equations, so I’m becoming obsessed too.
The number itself is random—1111000110110—expressed in Arabic numbers, it’s 7734—but for me, it’s more a case of what Jung called synchronicity.
Don’t think I’m crazy—I have to make sense of things—I’m a Mathematician and that’s my infirmity.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re weird, Arthur?”
I give Matt my best withering gaze. “Hey, I’m a nerd—what do you expect?”
Why are you obsessing over a stupid number?”
I take a deep breath and try to slowly explain. “As I told you—it’s not the number per se, it’s the coincidence—it keeps popping up everywhere I turn.”
“Yeah well, duh—that’s what coinki-dinks are bro—just lucky occurrences.”
I sigh deeply. “I wish I had your ability to dismiss things so easily—but I don’t.”
Matt’s feet are up on my desk and his chair is tilted so far back, I figure at any moment he’s going to tip.
He shuts his eyes trying to picture my trail of thought.
“Let’s see if I understand—this number keeps turning up, so, you’re going to use the I Ching like an oracle to figure it all out—is that about right?”
“No,” I growl, “I mean, it’s partly right. Leibniz saw some value in the I Ching and I feel there may be some kind of cosmic law at work here—you know—yin yang and all that.”
“Yin yang, eh?” he says amused.
“Right—like good-bad, yes-no, she loves me, she loves me not.”
“Ahha! I knew it was all about Enid.”
“You’re being absurd,” I parry, trying to get my blushing under control.
“Look, it’s all right, Man—I get it. You’re crazy about the girl.”
“No, you don’t get it,” I sigh. “Sure, I love Enid and want to marry her, but it’s more than that.”
‘Wow, this is really bugging you, isn’t it?”
I nod sadly. “I’ve taken a much too rational attitude toward life—at least, that’s what Enid thinks. She thinks I need to be more spontaneous.”
“And you figure by consulting an oracle, you’re going to be more spontaneous?”
“Well, certainly more intuitive. Say, have you ever thought what the word rational means? It means ratio/proportion—measuring everything by a logical yardstick. I need to get outside my head.”
“Yeah, well you’re doing a pretty good job of that,” he deadpanned.
“This is just something, I’ve got to do, Matt,” I protest.
He swaggers toward the door and turns back, leaning against the doorframe.
“Y’know Pilgrim," he says in his best John Wayne accent, "a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do.”
I fire my stapler at his head, but he ducks and avoids it—hell, even the Duke would’ve done that.
It doesn’t make me feel better though. I hear his laughter echoing down the hallway, reverberating off the walls, long after he’s gone.
I don’t care. I’m determined to explore my intuitive side.
Next day I’m sitting at the desk in my office, flipping three coins to determine the six lines of my hexagram.
I complete the tosses, check the pattern of broken and unbroken lines and look for a match. I find it—it’s number 53—gradualness in love. Obviously, my relationship with Enid should progress slowly.
I feel I’m finally gaining some secret wisdom about the mysterious alchemy of love.
But, instead of Enid and I growing closer, we seem to grow apart.
“I think we should get married in June, Arthur—it’s only three months away, but it’ll be lovely to have a June wedding,” she says.
“I really think we should wait, Enid. You know what Lao-Tsu says, make a blade too sharp and it will quickly grow dull.”
“Does he say anything about missing a boat?”
I look at her perplexed. “No, I don’t think so. You may be thinking of Shakespeare.”
“Oh, of course, silly me.”
I consult the oracle and do the coin toss each day, but consistently get the same hexagram. Of course, the same binary number keeps turning up as well.
But by the time May arrives, Enid doesn’t even want to see me. I’m devastated. I ask Matt for advice, but all he says is to follow my heart. I tell him that’s what I’m doing. He just shrugs.
When Enid turns down my invitation to go to dinner and a movie, it’s the last straw. I march over to her apartment and confront her.
I catch her dressed in old jeans, hair in a kerchief and rubber gloves on her hands—she’s cleaning her oven—but I don’t care.
I’m furious.
“I thought we had an understanding,” I shout.
“So did I,” she replies, pushing a strand of hair back from her forehead and managing to smudge her nose with dark grease from the stove.
“I told you I want to marry you,” I yell.
“Well, it doesn’t seem to be a matter of urgency.”
“What makes you think that?” I thunder.
“You keep putting off the date. I told you I wanted to marry in June. Every girl wants a lovely June wedding.”
“I’m about to reply, when it hits me—now I know what women want—or at least, what this woman wants.”
I slap myself in the head, as if just realizing.
“What an idiot, I am. I was trying to be more intuitive and not so logical.”
“Oh, you could have fooled me.”
“No wait, Enid—you don’t understand. I was consulting the I Ching about our relationship—to find out if you were right for me and when we should marry. It kept telling me to wait.”
“You were consulting an oracle—what made you do that?”
It all started when I kept getting this binary number—1111000110110. Expressed in Arabic numbers, it’s 7734. I remembered Leibniz devised the binary system based on his observations of the I Ching and you began saying I was too rational—so, I thought I’d follow my intuition.”
“And that’s why you delayed marrying me—based on what this oracle told you?”
I hung my head. “It seems stupid now, but yes—that’s what I was thinking.”
“But I don’t get why you bothered with the I Ching when you already had your answer?”
“How’s that?”
“The number 7734—it’s the street address of this building.”
I Blinked. I felt really dumb. “I’m sorry, Enid—I didn’t notice—just your apartment number—twenty-one.”
“What’s the sum of 7734?”
“Twenty-one,” I answered—and then, realized the significance.
“It doesn’t matter whether you caught onto the numerology, Arthur, or attached any significance to the coincidence. What bothers me is you didn’t follow your heart.”
I saw it, so plain and simple—it was just staring me in the face—it had a smudged nose and was wearing a kerchief.
My eyes smarted. I turned away ashamed.
“Wait—don’t go, Arthur.”
Her eyes were shining.
“Why would you want me to stay?”
“I saw your true feelings. Tears are words the heart can’t express. Now I know you love me.”
I don’t know if numbers are the gateway to the mysteries of the universe, but I know getting in touch with my feelings has helped me make sense of my life.
I didn’t need an oracle, or the I Ching, the book of changes—what I needed was a change of heart.
I have a compass inside me that points me in the right direction and guides me along the right path.
And I especially don’t need a coin toss seeking divination when the truth is staring me right in the face.