Numbers are crucial to understanding patterns in nature and even predicting stock market indexes.
Lately I'm obsessed with one particular golden sequence of binary numbers that I see as a gateway to open the mysteries of the universe—some people may see this as recondite, but hell, there are even binary patterns in The I Ching.
So, if all of nature is governed by these codes why wouldn't it make sense to exploit these sequences and use them as a guide to conducting the affairs of daily life, including even romantic relationships?
It makes sense to me.
Today 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 I realizing, I could have had a V8.
“What an idiot, I am. I was trying to be more intuitive and not so logical.”
“Oh, you could have fooled me.”
I slump down onto a kitchen chair feeling exasperated.
“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. Don’t you know, 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.