OK, everybody, knock it off!
I got it. It’s 12.12.12, and this is supposed to mean something. The Bible is full of 12s – 12 tribes of Israel, 12 apostles. There are 12 inches in a foot. We buy eggs by the dozen. 12 dozens is a gross.
Why must we humans heap meanings on things that really have only one? 12 by itself is a NUMBER. That’s where it begins and ends. It may have interesting mathematical properties. So have a good time, but don’t get exercised about it.
Apparently, 12 has lots of significance in Judeo-Christian culture, but there are other cultures. From what I read, the big number in China is 8, so couples jumped through hoops to get married on 8.8.08.
A numerologist once told me on a radio show that my life path number was 5. I read that I’m supposed to be happy-go-lucky and adventurous. I am neither. The description says that I’m a good communicator. I’ll leave that up to the readership here.
It’s a little like astrology. You think you were born under a certain sign, and it may have worked as a pickup line in a bar in the ‘70s, but in fact, the sun apparently travels through two extra constellations these days, so what you think you are, you’re probably not.
To return to numbers, the only ones that have any great practical use for me these days are those in the bank account, the cholesterol count and perhaps the percentage of body fat. There may be one or two more.
But in the end, can at least some of us agree that this preoccupation with the meaning of numbers is all about having too much time on our hands?
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