Mathematics and I have a complicated relationship.
It all started back in high school, when my mother promised this cute guy in my class that if I got an A in Trigonometry, she’d bake him the cake of his choice. Suddenly he was at my house almost every afternoon. I got an A (by the skin of my teeth). He got a triple-decker peanut butter cake. And the two of us ended up dating for a very long time — twenty-seven years and counting.
I have discovered a beauty to numbers over the years. I became fascinated with set theory when I read the lovely and intricate memoir I Am A Strange Loop. The New York Times ran a smart and thought-provoking series on math a year or so ago — you can read the first article in that series, entitled “From Fish to Infinity” here. In it, author Steven Strogatz explains with lyrical simplicity the basic principles of math even as he explores how something so concrete can be so heady. As Strogatz writes, “This dual aspect of numbers — as part-heaven, and part-earth — is perhaps the most paradoxical thing about them, and the feature that makes them so useful.”
So this is me, with visions of angles and angels simultaneously in my head, drawing lines that seem to partake of infinity. Wordless for once. And grateful for it.
It all started back in high school, when my mother promised this cute guy in my class that if I got an A in Trigonometry, she’d bake him the cake of his choice. Suddenly he was at my house almost every afternoon. I got an A (by the skin of my teeth). He got a triple-decker peanut butter cake. And the two of us ended up dating for a very long time — twenty-seven years and counting.
So now this year in Witchcraft Four, I’ve been introduced to gematria, sacred geometry, all kinds of number-related spiritual practices. I realized this yesterday as I was cutting out octagons and crafting eight-pointed stars for my Qabalistic peyton. My altar — usually covered in candles and incense and crystals — was instead loaded with protractors, rulers, graph paper, and that most fascinating of potentially dangerous instruments, the compass.
I have discovered a beauty to numbers over the years. I became fascinated with set theory when I read the lovely and intricate memoir I Am A Strange Loop. The New York Times ran a smart and thought-provoking series on math a year or so ago — you can read the first article in that series, entitled “From Fish to Infinity” here. In it, author Steven Strogatz explains with lyrical simplicity the basic principles of math even as he explores how something so concrete can be so heady. As Strogatz writes, “This dual aspect of numbers — as part-heaven, and part-earth — is perhaps the most paradoxical thing about them, and the feature that makes them so useful.”
So this is me, with visions of angles and angels simultaneously in my head, drawing lines that seem to partake of infinity. Wordless for once. And grateful for it.
