Page 108 - The Irony Board
P. 108

Into the Cosmos


              Each time the sticks are thrown,
              A new pattern is formed;
              But many see only
              A mystical number.


             While  Gluckman  perceived  some  validity  in  astrology,  to  him
         other “occult sciences” are clearly based on impossible assumptions.
         Divination, by whatever means (including predictions according to
         academically-approved  scientific  “laws”),  simply  can’t  be  done;
         violation  of  the  spacetime  continuum  is  implicit  both  in
         prognostication and in all types of sympathetic magic. Jung tried to
         provide  an  omnibus  justification  for  mystical  knowledge  in  a
         principle of simultaneity: all things occurring at the same instant in
         time are linked; one need only discover how to read the signs in one
         part  of  nature  to  apprehend  the  significance  of  the  whole.
         Unfortunately, this theory was based on Newtonian time, a physical
         constant already rejected by Einstein.
             An internationally-popular method of divination uses the Chinese
         Book  of  Change,  the  I  Ching.  Yarrow  stalks  are  tossed  on  the
         ground,  landing  in  groups  translatable  into  one  of  the  sixty-four
         hexagrams described in the text. Coincidence is elevated to symbolic
         certainty in the interpretation of that text relative to the situation in
         the  diviner’s  mind  at  the  moment  the  sticks  were  thrown.  Like
         reading tea leaves or cracks in a baked ovine scapula, this search for
         omens requires the agency, at minimum, of that invalid principle of
         simultaneity.  But  it  goes  further:  unlike  those  purely  analogical
         organic microcosms, I Ching is a  six-bit  binary code. It slices  the
         universe  of  possibility  into  a  limited  range  of  cases,  denying  the
         necessary uniqueness of all events. “Number” has two meanings in
         the  epigram:  first,  as  the  integer  coaxed  from  a  jumble  of  twigs;
         second, as the finite quantity of such integers.




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