Thinking about the fact that this is my ninth March-Ex (annual experiment/exercise), the close of a significant cycle to one who studies numerology. Will I find the culminating integration worthy of the milestone? Be alert to various ways to stay attuned to that idea.
Archive for the ‘Numbers’ Category
March Exercise IX ~ day three
Monday, March 3rd, 2014Various & Sundry, part seventy
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008— Month of December workout totals: Swim-2; Bike-2; Run-3; Lift-3; Yoga-8; Pilates-2
— Year of 2007 workout totals: Swim-23; Bike-58; Run-25; Lift-33; Yoga-21; Pilates-16
— This is the 70th installment of a series that has no meaning, other than it precludes me from using the word “sundry” within any other post. I was part of the Class of ’70 when I finished high school, and the seven has always been significant for me, since it’s my destiny number. This is the 763rd entry in this journal, which is a seven, since numbers always reduce to the single-digit sum for numerological analysis. For me, this is also the first day of a new year governed by the number seven. Other practitioners of numerology have marveled at the fact that Dana and I share the same annual number—not rare, but somewhat uncommon for married partners.
— The recent violent unrest in Kenya has provided days of concern for Dan and Sheryl’s Elizabeth, but word has arrived from Neil that she and her group are safe. It will be good to hear from her directly, and hopefully that will happen soon.
— I completed a twelfth work in my series of “Grandy-bo Variations,” but I won’t be including another in the current format for our Christmas exchange, because, for the past two years, my painting has ended up in the hands of a household that already had a “G-bo.” I’ve got to think of a better way to disseminate new pieces to those who haven’t received one, or switch to a medium that accommodates limited-edition printmaking for wider distribution.
(Variations on a Theme by
Grandy-bo, Part Eleven)
— NBC lives up to its reputation for prematurely yanking some of the best dramas on TV. In the spirit of keeping profanity to a minimum at this site, I’ll let another blogger express my profound dismay.
— During my recent morgue reorganization, I came across a post card written by Dana’s father in 1932 to his younger brother. Clearly, it was one of those items we’d rescued from a spasm of “movin’ madness,” before Aunt Marian and Uncle Dick gave up their home in Dayton and moved to San Diego. The card is from the Art Institute of Chicago and depicts a Vermont landscape Rockwell Kent painted in 1921— Mount Equinox, Winter. Almost twenty years after coming into our possession, neither of us remembers how it ended up in the reference files, but we both deemed it too valuable to exclude from the family archives. I put it on the scanner earlier today, never imagining that tonight we’d stumble upon Part One of the PBS documentary about Kent that I missed seeing earlier this year. Familiar with his work as a book illustrator and wood engraver, I knew little about his paintings, nor did I have a coherent appreciation for his life as an artist and adventurer. The man certainly had his flaws (addicted to infidelity and cruel practical jokes), but, Good Lord, what an amazingly prolific creative genius!
— Well, I’d better quit. Tomorrow begins a new cycle of productivity, and 2008 should be a great year. Nic and Michelle will marry, Marty will begin to drive, Peat will finish her degree, Bruce will get a place of his own, Brendan will publish his book, and the “Bay-bo Gril” will make her way to Yorkshire Estate. Follow it all here at Uncle John’s!
Numbers 2
Tuesday, June 19th, 2007I’m no expert on numerology, but I’ve been studying the ancient discipline for nearly 30 years, and I’ve dedicated myself to helping Janet and Jerome make some decisions about naming the “bay-bo grils” who will be soon be under their loving guardianship. As Juno Jordan says, “All names are good names,” so it’s not a matter of making an error. At some level, all names are part of the divine order and help tell a living story of each unique soul. In the case of “Baby Molina,” the best way to look at it is the potential for harmony and enhanced opportunity—harmony of a conferred family name with the name given at birth, harmony with the character of her new parents, and the opportunity to reinforce God-given talents and her heart’s desire with a name that will be true to her real self.
This is not a trivial exercise. The new name can be a means or vehicle for greater usefulness, but will be of no active value without the true self “behind it,” and without a meaningful connection to the special role that is already ordained. In her landmark book, JJ tells of people who take a new name, who are not happy, and who feel an underlying uncertainty because they are aware at the soul level that it doesn’t reflect their true being. This insight is valuable to the objective of naming an adopted child, and could explain in part why some adopted individuals confront undue challenges in life. Maybe it has something to do with carrying a name that’s not in harmony with who they actually are. Another way to look at the endeavor is to avoid setting her up for unnecessary discomfort as she finds her path in life as an adopted child from a distant ethnic heritage growing up in Kentucky. From what I already perceive in her birth chart, she has many fine attributes and inner gifts that will serve her well in this regard. The proper “arranged name” can contribute even more to her opportunities for satisfaction and fulfillment.
Precious one, there is great love in store for you when you encounter your new mother and father, plus an entire Clan that stands behind them in support. And a new sister, too! What a year of profound blessings!
Various & Sundry, part forty-nine
Monday, April 9th, 2007— I’ve been trying to think of an appropriate way to tell Ian that I’m proud of his new workout discipline and to offer my encouragement, but I haven’t thought of anything cool or clever to say to him yet. Well, in the meantime, maybe this will do.
— One of the byproducts of March is an almost hypersensitivity to the ingredient stimuli that influence my state of being for each particular day—whether or not I’ve exercised, what I’m currently reading, whether I’m on the uphill or downhill side of a deadline, how much restful sleep I had, what kind of a movie I might have watched the night before, whether I began the day with a Rosary, what style of artwork I’m in the middle of, whether or not my Macintosh is acting up, etc. Being more aware of how these things affect my mood and powers of concentration is good, right? I used to just let each day find its own pitch without much thought to this kind of assessment, but now I know I can counter-balance various influences with music, poetry, prayer, stretching, dietary adjustments, or just a quick floor romp with a Yorkie. Nevertheless, there are still certain kinds of creative tension that have a tendency to throw me off my game, but I’m “getting there.”
— My talk seemed to go well enough yesterday morning that Milton wants to schedule it again as a “rerun.” I don’t think that’s ever happened before, but it might have something to do with only two other people showing up.
— Easter was a long day, but it felt like it flew by much too fast. When I waited to pick up Bruce from the hospital, I sat in the car for a spell, listening to my tape of Heston reading from the New Testament. Bruce was ready to go, but they failed to order the wheelchair transport to the exit. Such a silly regulation. I can stand to be around hospitals, but I don’t like them. As it turned out, Bruce didn’t feel well enough for the ride down to the farm, so he stayed home. We stopped in Junction on the way, to get Terie and Marty, and the four of us spent the holiday afternoon with Clan. I drank too much coffee and ate too much food. Had a very nice discussion with Peat about her job as newspaper editor next year. She’s laying the groundwork this spring, which is smart, and will spend some time in Europe this summer—quite a few Clan Kiddoes are following in my footsteps with travel abroad during student years. I found out that Seth has committed to Bellarmine. Looks like Sam Morgan will go there, too, and he’ll run track. We saw pictures of “Baby Molina,” and I got the data to do numerology charts for her and Torrance. Later in the day, I watched Marty conduct battles on the PC with ROME: Total War, and we played on the PS2 together, too. Our best boxing bout was Sugar Ray R against Sugar Ray L. Marty has moved to primarily sports video games because they require more controller skill, plus he’s getting more interested in the world of sport overall, which is having a bit of a spill-over effect for me. I actually cared who won the green jacket.
This is my quest
Thursday, January 11th, 2007As usual, I’m scratching along in my own analytical way, looking for “keys.” For me, that often involves attempts at integrating various “reality maps” I’ve encountered that make sense as individual systems. Numerology would be one example, but seems limited when I approach it in isolation. Feng Shui has appeal, but I haven’t totally bought into the premise. For a long time, Bruce has made references to Chinese medicine, but my investigation into Chinese thought has been confined to a study of the Book of Changes or I Ching.
Today I read a short magazine article by Mark Blessington. We must think along the same lines, because he’s made an impressive start at applying the principles of Chinese medicine to the relationships between money and people. There’s often a fine distinction between genuine insight and wacky diversion, I must admit, but I would say that Blessington’s ideas about achieving a balance in money elements deserves the benefit of the doubt.
And so we press on with our attempts to synthesize the unbridgeable gaps of knowledge and to learn the unknowable truths, like why you can’t find a missing object until you tell somebody else that you lost it. We’ll continue to look for the profound answers that elude us all, to understand why time always speeds up every Thursday night during NBC’s telecast of “The Office,” and to solve the many riddles of a mysterious universe.
Numbers 1
Friday, January 5th, 2007Wednesday was hardly “a modest resurfacing.” It must have seemed more like the gasping rise of an underwater swimmer, so I’ll go easy this time.
I was introduced to numerology in 1978 by a client, and make no excuse for continuing to consider it just about the most uncanny thing I’ve ever encountered. The key to its appreciation is tuning into the idea that there are fundamental “essences” at play in life, and that our species has come up with things like numbers, letters, and other symbols to represent their meaning. This process of abstraction we use to make sense of unseen forces is also at the root of mathematics and music, and yet numerology is regarded as the oddball disclipline of the three.
Today was the first vibratory six of the year, the essence of caregiving, responsibility, and selfless service. My Dadbo was fraught with sixes—no surprise. Because 2007 is a “six year” for me on a personal level, I was curious to see how the day “felt.”
It felt extraordinarily good . . .