Dialectics: God's Self-Disclosure Through Intelligent Design

By Paul Johnsen

Dialectics teaches the rules, procedures, and codes used by a technologically advanced overseer, or god, to write a program for Earth and its inhabitants. According to Johnsen, this program was designed to last for 2707 years, beginning in 687 BC and ending in 2020. The aim of Dialectics is to prove the existence of a Master Programmer through intelligently designed puzzles. Dialectics demonstrates how the speed of light, Plancks constant, and a formula for anti gravity determine the rotation and position of the Earth and its surrounding planets. It shows the simultaneous planning of the Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic calendar reforms before 378 BC, the planned height and fall of the Roman Empire, the entanglement of emperors living 700 years apart, a Christian conspiracy headed by Dante, and the identity of Shakespeare. These and many more startling revelations are found in Dialectics, including the 1929 stock market crash, the 9/11 attack of the twin towers, and the economic meltdown of 2008. By proving the existence of God and his (or her) continuous interaction with people and events of this world, Dialectics gives the Darwinists some viable competition.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 31, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450063852

Paul Johnsen

Paul Johnsen, DMA, received his doctorate degree in musical composition from the University of Arizona in 1976, having previously taught music theory at Humboldt State University for ten years. He is currently living with his wife in their 160-acre mountain property near Douglas, Arizona.

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Copyright © 2010 by Paul Johnsen.

Revised edition 2012

Library of Congress Control Number:            2010903678

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Contents

Preface

Introduction

What Is Dialectics?

Part I Physics, Astronomy, and Calendar

Chapter 1    One-Hand, Four-Finger Allegory for the Velocity of Light

Chapter 2    Two-Hand, Five-Finger (2/5) Allegory for the Planck Constant

Chapter 3    1365 Signifies Planet Rotation

Chapter 4    23 March 687 BC Related to the Hand

Chapter 5    Antigravity Formula

Chapter 6    The Five Binary Codes of Dialectics

Chapter 7    Personal Identification: March 8, 1927

Chapter 8    Calendar and Religion

Part II Dialectics in History

Chapter 9    Introduction to Symbols in History

Chapter 10    Center Point 116.5 to 1165

Chapter 11    Constants c and h and the British Empire

Chapter 12    Center Point 1615, Frederick II, Henry VII, and Baybars I

Chapter 13    Postseason Football Games of 1970

Part III The Master Programmer’s Grand Plan

Chapter 14    The Joachim 1260 sign

Chapter 15    The Valois / Luxembourg conspiracy

Chapter 16    DXV Prophecy and the Valois / Luxembourg Conspiracy

Chapter 17    The Birth Charts and the Race to Death

Chapter 18    John II, Guillaume de Machaut, and Philip de Vitry

Chapter 19    Sexual Connotation of Arabic Numerals and Isiac Numbers

Chapter 20    Jeanne de Bar and Blanche d’Evreux

Chapter 20    The Three Sons of Elizabeth I

Chapter 21    Shakespeare and the 1591 Sign

Chapter 22    Falling in Love with a Goddess

Paul’s Letter to Harris

Musical Studies in Dialectics

Closing Remarks

List of Sources

Author Bio

Twenty Twenty

What a weird word Reality was

When we wallowed in worldly wonder

Without realizing the why of it.

Why would we remember

What some ravishing woman wrote

Twice two times twenty years removed

When yesterday willingly withers away?

Whether real or otherwise,

Our world gravitates round its plural center

Wheeling off years, one by one,

While we wait with waxing wonder

Wishing only the reward of withheld worldly vision.

Why should I give a god damn

What that goddess wrote

When what she wanted was not me?

But knowing full-well what we want,

Isis’ signs and symbols rise up, silently wafting away,

Leaving Veritas to answer our long-sought hope.

Unwarranted and wantonly skewed, his message lies!

What a weary world really wants to know before it dies:

Was it real or otherwise?

Preface

During a late-spring visit in 1964 with my in-laws in northern California, I impulsively decided to enroll in summer music courses at UCLA, pursuant to beginning studies toward a PhD or DMA in music. A quick trip to Los Angeles ensued. I enrolled in Medieval Form and Analysis with Robert Tussler and Medieval Music with the renowned medievalist Gustave Reece, author of a standard text on the subject.

Having taught composition and theory at Fresno and Humboldt state universities for the preceding ten years, my experience in musical analysis made my anticipated association with Professor Tussler a little like a fencing match between theorists. During class, he stated that one could draw conclusions of intrinsic interest from the application of numbers to notes in a medieval composition. The use of numbers is common practice in figured bass of the baroque era or from any class in harmony, but this was not what he implied. I could not let him toss off that statement, so I specifically asked him this question:

"Do you mean that after applying numbers to an old composition you can read meaning from them?"

Yes.

"Will you show us how to do this?"

Again, he answered Yes, but he never did. Years later, after I became immersed in dialectics that included music full of numerical analysis, I wrote Tussler to ask him whether he had published his findings. No, he had not published. He simply abandoned it. This is not surprising. The climate of opinion in academia was so opposed to the study of symbolism—particularly number symbolism—that anyone who engaged in it was subject to ridicule. In Symbolism in Medieval Thought (1927), Helen Flanders Dunbar reaffirmed that anyone interested in the mathematical side of symbolism would address a restricted audience. Some scholars have turned down my attempts to communicate ideas on symbolism because it dealt with numbers, a subject derisively termed numerology.

The course with Gustave Reece required a term paper, so I chose the eight polyphonic virelais of Guillaume de Machaut, having used some of them in a class I taught years before. Small identifiable motives (musical shapes) pervaded some of the virelais to such a degree that, when placed in a matrix showed relationships with like motives aligned vertically and unlike motives proceeding horizontally. I found the eight works internally organized as a related set. Reece quickly dashed this musicological find, stating, in effect, that because Machaut used these same motives in the virelais and elsewhere, they constituted current coin and that any apparent unity was mere coincidence. He advised that I read the literature on the subject, which led to a UCLA musicologist named Gilbert Reaney.

Composers employ motives as points of reference; so Reece’s opinion, which ran counter to logic, enraged me, driving me to continue work on the subject for the rest of the year. Analise Cohen, a professor of Old French at UCLA, kindly translated the poetry of the virelais. She noticed that the incipits (the first line) of the virelais, following my newly found order, formed a poem. Later refinements showed the poem to fit exactly the tenor part to Machaut’s only wordless composition, the David Hocket, which, if nothing else did, proved conclusively my thesis.

Reaney’s article (the one that Reece wanted me to read) described Machaut’s motives accurately, in a general sense. Curiously, he based it on two words, unity and convention, and wove them in such a way to leave the reader with the inference that Machaut’s unity was conventional, implying without substance. Reaney never wrote what Reece interpreted him to mean, but a whole generation of writers on Machaut parroted Reaney’s negative inference. It is true that the bulk of the motives used by Machaut are indeed conventional, but no musicologist has explained them or the rules that govern their use. The puzzle-like nature of medieval monophonic song is utterly unknown to them, partly because of the stigma that they, and their academic cohorts, attached to number symbolism, and partly because unaccompanied music holds lesser interest to musicians.

By the end of 1964, I completed much work on the virelais, but it led me to nonmusical conclusions of a speculative nature that I could not prove, so I withheld publication. I turned my attention to the employers of Guillaume de Machaut, which was the French monarchy. I examined dates of birth, death, marriage, etc., like a game, but each time I scrutinized these events, a pattern emerged that I could not accept as accidental. Thus began the process of discovery that became dialectics. By 1965, I became a number juggler, an academic outcast who had to learn to keep quiet or be thought an eccentric. The fourteenth-century French kings gave way to Charlemagne, to Rome; to my mentor, Plato; and to the Earth-Mars close encounter cited by Velikovsky. I knew then that publishing was out of the question until I could understand and give a good account of the nature of dialectics. I worked sporadically as the years passed until, finally, the end came within sight. Dialectics reveals intelligent design in the form of puzzles to be solved. However, most of these puzzles could not be created by earthlings. For example, the number of days in a year resulted from an unique pattern of squares that augmented with additions through application of dialectical method. Therefore, I inferred that they were the work of an overseer, not of this world.

Paul Johnsen

Dung Hollow

March 8, 2010

Introduction

What Is Dialectics?

Imagine that we live in an artificial world, intellectually contrived and not the exclusive result of natural forces. Think that the rotation of the earth, the number of days in a year, results from patterns of intelligent design rather than accident. Let thought envisage aspects of history, planned in its broad outline at the outset, that record events before they occur. This high fantasy—created and supervised by an unseen artificer, a master programmer, or a god—stands over us and directs the scripted outcomes of people and events like a grandiose game of virtual reality. We, as participants, are but actors in a virtual play of events.

Not only did God know the path each of us would take, He even recorded everything before creation (Quran 57:22) Thus each of us had his or her life recorded on something like a video tape from birth to death (Quran 17:13), [503]

The world that the creator made for us appears obvious, but the organization of it lies hidden in secrecy. The Master Programmer’s plan contains a curious method of self-disclosure, a means through which we, in our lower state, can learn what he has done. We may know of his deeds because he cast them in puzzles of intellectual order. To solve these puzzles, we must understand the system of their creation. Dialectics is the name I give to the creation and solution process, a name borrowed from Plato’s description of that term in the seventh book of the Republic, which includes numerical organization and the need to establish problems. Much of what Plato writes about dialectics, I have incorporated into this work.

If one defines science as any self-consistent, repeatable system, then dialectics is a science, a science of puzzle-solving that unfolds as an intellectual game consisting of rules, procedures, and codes. The puzzle-solver follows the same constructive plan as the creator, but in reverse order. He or she must recognize an inviting pattern, discover the puzzle, solve it, and infer meaning from the solution. These inferences often fly in the face of our common conception of reality, thus presenting a contradiction to the obvious. They impose on our thought the necessity of another reality, another world paradigm. A puzzle may spread out over hundreds or even thousands of years of our time, giving rise to the thought that the creator exists in another time dimension or in another space where our time can be compressed or attenuated.

Dialectics develops a singular method of thought transference that guides the analyst from one idea to the next. Signs link concepts together through special codes and laws of association that stand as psychological attractors, enabling conversion of one thought into another. Our minds associate equivalent ideas and those in close proximity or those that look or sound alike. Association happens when one idea corrects, completes, or varies another or when they maintain the same position in a sequence.

Signs and symbols carry the essence of association. Signs contain the elements of information that, when put together, form symbols. A symbol is a puzzle-like device requiring solution. In dialectics, each sign carries its own meaning, either through popular understanding, history, or science, as opposed to arbitrary associations found in, say, numerology or astrology. Thus, 365 means the days in a year, 911 means the attack on the Twin Towers, 108 means base 10/8 conversion. Signs become the building blocks of symbols, which, when solved, show the design that identifies the work of the Master Programmer (MP). Symbol is synonymous with puzzle; a symbol hides information for the analyst to find and make reasonable inferences from it. Solutions vary widely; the best teach us something new or disclose some anachronistic knowledge relative to the period from which it originates. Other solutions corroborate older information or, in the case of many Gregorian chants, merely render a solution such as the identification of Christ or the Holy Trinity. All challenge the intellect and require input from the analyst.

Signs with only a few associations invite dismissal as accidental, but when connections multiply within the same subject context, and give rise to a problem, this assessment weakens. An ever-expanding dialectical argument links one large subject to the next in a vast chain of connected thought. The strength of the dialectical puzzle consists of its exquisite, detailed order and its length. The better puzzle grows in complexity as it expands toward solution. It thus defies the law of entropy. The solved dialectical puzzle invites the analyst to perceive its order as deliberate—something created rather than the result of happenstance. Dialectics challenges us to value the truth in the design of the solved puzzle above our opinions and familiar view of reality.

In dialectics, almost every main subject derives from or relates to the hand, the Master Programmer’s work-producing tool that signifies accomplishment, skill, and purpose. After the hand, the principal concepts in dialectics belong to science. The first puzzles derive from the twin pillars of the new physics of the twentieth century: the velocity of light and the Planck constant. The velocity of light (c) governs electromagnetic theory and the theory of relativity; Planck’s constant (h) governs atomic phenomena and quantum mechanics. However, in dialectics, Planck’s constant associates with the macrocosm: with the Earth, Moon, and planets. These physical constants find disguise as allegories stemming from the hands that render them accessible as anachronisms found in old texts; the Old Testament, Plato’s Republic, Gregorian chant, and other places. Dialectics is not physics, but its first part is about physics and depends upon knowledge gleaned from physics. Dialectics serves as the metaphysical contribution to knowledge that, when combined with physics, may allow a future Theory of Everything (sought by some physicists) to be more inclusive than just knowledge of the physical world, and would include history, literature, music, and more.

Part I of dialectics shows how the MP created the numbers for the velocity of light (c), and Planck’s constant (h) and later, the constant of gravitation (G) as published in the seventeenth edition of Standard Mathematical Tables, 1969, shown below, then disguised them for use in medieval texts and music:

c = 2.997925 ± 0.000002 x 1010 cm/sec.

h = 6.62554 ± 0.0005 x 10-27 erg-sec.

G = 6.673 ± 0.003 x 10-8 cm3/g x sec2

The Year of the Quiet Sun in 1964, a follow-up to the International Geophysical Year of 1957, adopted the above number for c, and popular almanacs listed it as late as the mid-1990s until finer readings supplanted it. Five numerical codes clearly identify not only the above number for the velocity of light but also its properties of movement, including straight line, wave, gravitational attraction, and reflection. The same five codes appear flagrantly as standard composition procedure in Gregorian chant, the traditional musical liturgy of the Roman Catholic church.

Using abbreviations for c and h and other elements of number theory, the MP created the rotations of the Earth, Moon, Mars, Venus, and Mercury, and the relative positions of the Earth, Moon, and Sun, then put them into place using a gravity formula to generate the needed power to move planets to their desired positions. The gravity formula expands upon the familiar E = hv. According to a progressive development of symbols carried on throughout the study, hv multiplies by 7, and then expands into three such units in a continuous chain reaction giving rise to the formula:

E = (7ħv)3n+1

Here, E is energy generated by the gravitational force, ħ is Planck’s constant divided by 2π, v is wave frequency, and 3n+1 denotes a continuous geometrical multiplication by three. The formula becomes a working theory and an expectation that this dominating scientific symbol of dialectics will yield a purposeful result, specifically, the discovery of antigravity. Of course, this remains in limbo until natural science makes a final judgment. I infer that this technology was used by the Master Programmer to create the celestial disturbance between Mars and Earth on 23 March, 687 BC, and that this event brought about our present 365-day year, as cited by Velikovsky (247–249). This close encounter marks the beginning of the record of dialectics.

The creation of the calendar became the byproduct of planet rotation. The MP provides convincing evidence for the simultaneous creation of five calendar reforms, which include the Hebrew, Roman, Islamic, Gregorian, and the English acceptance of the Gregorian, spaced 2,130 years apart. The years marking these events form an astonishingly literal puzzle based on the gravity formula. In addition, the numerical codes for the velocity of light raise corresponding years between the Christian and Islamic calendars followed by a culminating return of its original number. One cannot escape the inference that predetermined events in dialectics originated simultaneously before 687 BC. This revelation makes moot the preferential selection of any religion by the Master Programmer.

The dialectical arguments presented here find expression in a dialogue format for two reasons. First, it makes a more casual reading that lightens and slows the pace of the incessant series of associations the reader is required to follow. Second, it allows me to bring up every argument opposed to dialectical thought and procedure that I have encountered in forty-six years with the subject. The Physics of Consciousness by Evan Harris Walker prompted the opening scenario (145). The question: How is my hand like the Buddha’s hand? is cited from an eleventh-century manuscript. A fictional Zen master becomes my adversary. His role anticipates some of the objections readers might bring up independently. Later on, the more receptive and astute student named Harris often adds to or corrects my omissions. To whatever degree this format departs from academic tradition, it makes up in readability. The expository method is fiction, but the content of the argument is fact.

Part I

Physics, Astronomy, and Calendar

Chapter 1

One-Hand, Four-Finger Allegory for the Velocity of Light

Paul, a retired music teacher, enters the Oriental Studies Building at Southwestern University to attend a concert of Balinese percussion instruments. The concert is canceled because of poor flight conditions at La Guardia Airport in New York. Thanks to unexpected time and habitual curiosity, Paul enters a study session in which a Zen master instructs students on the art of response to a koan. A koan consists of a question submitted by the Zen master, requiring an answer from the student. Curiously, the proper response is no response, essentially a rejection of the question. The more complete the rejection, the more valued the response.

One at a time, each student receives his question. Each does his best to deny a logical answer and satisfy the master’s expectations. The master reviews each, suggesting improvement, then, after a polite exchange, allows the student to depart. One student, named Harris, receives the question, How does the rejection of materialism lead to nirvana? Harris rises abruptly, throws some papers on the floor, and storms out of the room. This action, which seems to Paul rude and lacking in civility, gets praise from the master and excellent marks. Here is complete rejection of the question.

The last student, William, stands for his turn. The master acknowledges him with a smile and extends his right hand, palm outward, in the manner of the great Buddha in Kamagura, Japan. Now, William, how is my hand like the Buddha’s hand? (Walker 145) William, who looks younger than most of the other students, replies, Playing the lute under the moon. The Master reflects for a moment and says, Hmm that is good, William, but playing the lute involves the hand. Moreover, it implies that the Buddha also played the lute under the moon and, therefore, I cannot consider your answer an effective nonresponse. Your answer would improve if you played nothing under the moon, in which case, there would be no hand movement. Do you understand? William looks somewhat perplexed. Neither thanking the master nor bowing, as is customary, William picks up his books and leaves the room with a shrug of the shoulders.

Next, calls the master. Paul stands before the master to explain his presence when the master raises his hand as before and put forth the same question: How is my hand like the Buddha’s hand? Somewhat taken aback, Paul walks closer and looks carefully at the master’s extended right hand. He recalls the dialectical studies that have occupied him for so many years—studies that made liberal use of the hand—now shelved for lack of audience. Suddenly, there arises in Paul’s consciousness an outrageous urge. It is an odd intrusion, familiar to some. It envelopes the mind at the most unlikely or serious moment finding release in the guise of humor, but with far more confrontational intent in the subconscious. Knowing a response to the master’s question is uncalled for and silly, certain he will be thought a fool should he resurrect his abandoned dialectic, and equally certain of the regret that inevitably follows such absurdity, nevertheless, Paul cannot resist answering the question—logically!

M. How is my hand like Buddha’s hand?

P. The order of finger height is the same.

M. Finger height? Of course, it is the same. All people have the same finger height.

P. No, Master. The little finger is always the shortest. The middle finger is always the longest, but the ring and the index fingers vary in length. Therefore, the order of finger height may be 1342, 1243, or in some cases, 1242, when the ring and index fingers are of equal length.

M. Which one belongs to the Buddha?

P. 1243.

M. Well, that is interesting. So?

P. Understand this as an inviting number. It leads the mind elsewhere: When speaking of uninviting objects, I mean those that do not pass from one sensation to the opposite; inviting objects are those that do . . . (Plato 782).

M. I do not quite follow you. Would you help me with this?

P. You should see 1243 as numbers out of sequence, a disordered set.

M. Does this disordered set invite an opposite condition?

P. The opposite of disorder is order. Correct the disordered 1243 with an ordered 1234. Call this association by correction.

M. What does 1234 have to do with the Buddha’s hand?

P. It measures the order of his finger thickness.

M. Is 1234 also an inviting number?

P. Understand 1234 as an arithmetic progression.

M. What does an arithmetic progression bring to mind?

P. A geometric progression, 1248. Call this association by opposing kind.

M. Does the 1248 geometric progression also correct 1243?

P. In a way, yes, if one views 3 graphically as an incomplete 8, requiring a mirror reflection of 3 to complete it. Call this association by completion. However, a more useful association is implied by 3 and 8.

M. What association is that?

P. They represent the third and eighth letters of the Latin and English alphabets, c and h. Moreover, c as a scientific sign represents the velocity of light and h stands as the sign for the Planck constant. The Latin alphabet is standard in these studies. It is like the English alphabet except J and I are represented by I, the ninth letter. Letters U, V, and W are represented by V, the twentieth letter.

M. Of what significance does the velocity of light and Planck’s constant have here?

P. They are special physical constants, the great anchors of the new physics of the twentieth century. The velocity of light governs the field electrodynamics and the theory of relativity. Planck’s quantum governs all atomic phenomena and quantum mechanics. It also has applications in the macrocosm.

M. Interesting. Will you write your inviting numbers on the chalkboard that I may view them more clearly?

P. They appear as follows with the 8 graphically completing the 3.

8

1 2 4 3

1 2 3 4

M. How does this set relate to the Buddha? Or does it?

P. One may read the Buddha’s Four Noble Truths in order 1234 or 1243. I prefer the 1243 version that places the path leading to the cessation of pain before its attainment. The Buddha’s Noble Eight Paths follows (Hamilton. Buddhism. EB IV 355).

M. Do these numbers occur elsewhere?

P. Look in the King James Version of the Old Testament. In Genesis, the first four days of creation appear as a disordered set. The third and fourth days should be reversed. The stated order, 1234 corrects to 1243, or vice versa.

M. By what standard do you make this correction?

P. The 1243 arrangement renders the creation story more palpable to a normal evolution of events. Day 3 states: "And God said Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon the earth: and it was so" (1).

This should come after day 4, which states: And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also. (1) Obviously, one would have a hard time growing trees and grass without the sun, the greater light that rules the day. Therefore, reversing day 3 and day 4 corrects the stated order of creation.

M. Hmm . . . Do you find these numbers in secular texts?

P. They appear dramatically in the seventh book of Plato’s Republic. Plato has Socrates tell the role of contradiction in leading the mind toward true being: . . . when there is some contradiction always present and one is the reverse of one and involves the conception of plurality, then thought begins to be aroused within us . . . (Plato 784). Then he creates a contradiction. Socrates misorders the sequence of studies for the training of the guardians of the state: Then take a step backward, for we have gone wrong in the order of the sciences (Plato 787). He immediately corrects it: After plane geometry . . . we proceeded at once to solids in revolution, instead of taking solids in themselves; whereas after the second dimension the third, which is concerned with cubes and dimensions of depth, ought to have followed (Plato 787). He corrects his first order, 1243, to 1234: (1) mathematics, (2) geometry, (3) solid geometry, and (4) astronomy or solids in revolution. Curiously, he creates a second contradiction by omitting the first science, mathematics, in his correction.

Glaucon: But I do not clearly understand the change in order. First, you began with geometry of plane surfaces?

Socrates: Yes.

Glaucon: And you placed astronomy next, and then you made a step backward?

Socrates: Yes, and I have delayed you by my hurry; the ludicrous state of solid geometry, which in natural order, should have followed, made me pass over this branch and go on to astronomy, or motion of solids (Plato 788).

Shortly thereafter, he tells of waveforms that are the fastest and slowest motions relative to each other: The starry heaven . . . must be deemed inferior far to the true motions of absolute swiftness and absolute slowness, which are relative to each other, and carry with them that which is contained in them, in the true number and in every true figure. (Plato 789).

M. Do you take this to be an ancient reference to the theory of relativity?

P. Absolute swiftness reads like a description of the velocity of light, but one hardly expects to find it four hundred years before Christ.

M. Or four hundred years after. Let’s get back to your inviting numbers and the somewhat disorganized arithmetic and geometric progressions.

P. Well, then, let us organize them.

1243 matrix and the value of c

From illustration 1, rewrite 1234 and 1248 in diagonals to form a symmetrical ray. Add zeros as placeholders to complete a matrix of four columns and eight rows. Mark the original disordered 4 by placing a decimal next to it in the third column. Let this decimal placement serve for all the third column numbers.

M. Where does the matrix lead?

P. Note that a lone 3 remains within the ray and c, the third letter, signs for the velocity of light. This matrix hides the value for the velocity of light as found in the seventeenth edition of Standard Mathematical Tables published in 1969.

M. What is that value?

P. Number c = 2.997925 ± 0.000002 x 1010 cm/sec.

M. How can you show this number when the matrix has no 9s, 7s, or 5s?

Illustration 1.1: The 1243 matrix.

image001.png

P. I find equivalents suggested by the highly inviting number for the velocity of light. Tell me, Master, what other number does 2.997925 bring to mind?

M. What other number? I don’t know . . . I suppose 3.

P. Why?

M. Because the two magnitudes are so close.

P. Exactly. Call this association by contiguity or proximity. How close are they?

M. Let me calculate this. All right: 3.000000 - 2,997925 = 0.002075, the quantity by which they differ. Now what?

P. Psychologically, in 2075 we tend to see two parts, the 20 and the 75. Both are factorable by five, the number of fingers on the Buddha’s hand. This presents an invitation to perform the following: 0.002075 ÷ 5 = 0.000415.

M. Where does 0.000415 lead?