I don’t believe in any gods, but I do believe that the earth is a living thing. If there is judgment to be rendered, it will come in the form of our extinction for all the destruction we’ve wrought upon the land and all the harm we’ve done to all the living things upon it.
The creatures of air, land, and sea do not need us and will not miss us.
Once in a while I’ll turn to a writing prompt to give me a nudge when I’m blocked, and today I went to writing.com. The prompt that came up was “Write about the number 3.”
For Christians, 3 is a holy number, one that represents the trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit/Ghost.
For writers, public speakers, comedians, and psychologists, there is a Rule of Three: Humans recognize patterns and the smallest pattern they recognize is a pattern of three, so giving them ideas in threes is interesting to them and easy for them to remember.
Johnny Depp’s lucky number is 3, and he has it tattooed on his hand. I read somewhere that it represents how a man and a woman make a child so that there are three, and that he believes three is a magical number, though I don’t know how true any of that is.
Years ago, Peter Criss wore a 3 on the back of his KISS outfit to signify that he was the third member of the band. As he was the third member to join, that makes sense, but again, I don’t know how true that is.
Then there’s the ol’ ménage à trois, the sexual threesome, which may or may not be followed by a love triangle.
Three is special for me for another reason. It’s the number of fangs I have. In addition to the usual two big canines, I have one that descends from the roof of my mouth just behind my two front teeth, right before I’m about to feed. It’s annoying at times, but it does help me drain my vessels faster than others of my kind—something that comes in handy when you’re at risk of being seen. Perhaps it’s evolution.
I took the photo above at Powązki Cemetery in Warsaw, Poland last month. I was struck by how ivy had blanketed the graves, turning them into earthen beds where two souls lie in eternal slumber. I’m not a romantic by a long shot, but the way the ivy came together in the middle, as though this husband and wife had reached out to one another and joined together even in death, brought a tear to my eye.
zenzalei 