The Shape of Three

Three. Today, my girl turns three. A magical number. A cultural touchstone. A marvel of engineering. A powerful symbol. And a wonder of accomplishments.

One line, one word, is just that. A single utterance. Two? Fine, you're repeating yourself. Okaaayyy... But make it three, and things really start to happen.

Three lines are needed to make the first shape, the first move towards enclosing a space. A triangle is the strongest angular form, the one engineers turn to to create strength time and time again, an element of design and architecture both classic and classical. Plato believed the world to have been made up of this simplest of geometry. Mathematically, a square of three is the smallest magic square, with each row, column, and diagonal adding to 15. Three dimensions take you from flat to solid, from picture to object, from representation to reality.

Speaking something three times takes you beyond repetition and into incantation. In magic, a thrice told phrase will make it so. In some cultures, announcing the intention to divorce three times over untied the bonds of marriage. Three strikes remove a player from the game. German superstition held a paper triangle with a cross on each corner surrounding a prayer as a protection against gout and witches. Urban legend and folklore bear this notion out and carry it forward into modern times - "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" Even Dora wards off Swiper by calling him three times, "Swiper, no swiping!"

Folktales, culture, and religion are filled with the power of three, for that same repetition that makes magic happen has a powerful punch in driving home a point. Students, too, learn that three examples make a fairly solid argument, and work in as many triads as they can in their essays. Me, myself, and I. There are three bears, three little pigs, three little kittens, and three billy goats gruff. Two may be conincidence, but three is a lesson. Four might be beating a dead horse. I am prone to using this device myself, time and time again.

Three is also found as a foundation element in beliefs from around the world, from different times and ways of thought, and it is respresented by myriad symbols: triskeles, triskelions, trefoils, triquetra, tomoye, and more. Three often comprises the whole, in a wide range of faiths and disciplines. The father, the son, and the holy ghost forms the base of christian faith, while Babylonians had three primary gods: Anu, Baal, and Ea. The greek Graces are three. Past, present, and future make up our sense of time. Sea, earth, and sky made up the world for ancient celts, whose mythologies were rife with triplicities. Morning, noon, and night means "all the time" to us in everyday speech, while Egyptians saw three aspects to the sun: rising (Khepri), midday (Re), and setting (Atum). Thought, word, and deed are what we are capable of to the humanist. Animal, vegetable, and mineral long made up the world as viewed by the scientist. One gives themselves over to Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha - the Three Jewels - in becoming a Buddhist and seeking guidance. Wiccans use the triqueta to symbolize the maid, mother, and crone, as well as mind, body, and soul. This symbol and strength in trinity has been adopted by everyone's favourite modern witches, reinterpreted as "the power of three, acting as one," by the three sisters of Charmed.

And three years. The first year, my girl conquered the world with her physical development, which came in leaps and bounds and enthusiastic struggling to sit and then walk and then run, hurtling her small body down city streets and parkland slides. The second year, she blossomed forth linguistically, from a wee child who rarely said much to an unstoppable chatterbox with hundreds of words at her command and the knowledge to string them into requests, commands, questions, and observations.

This third year, though, has been a sort of culmination. A becoming. A completing of the first outline, the first shape she will take - not a triangle, but a child. A rounding out of the whole, with the elements of mind, body and soul coming together to form not a baby, not a toddler, but a person. For now she is such a person - a real, whole, understanding and interacting person. She has much to learn, still, of course, for she is a child, this person, this Pumpkinpie of mine. But a child who has a grasp of all the ingredients she needs to both question and answer, to read and learn and seek knowledge on her own, and I have no doubt that in the next year she will be doing just that. A child, long and lean and untoddlerlike now, who is fully able to run, jump, kick, throw, climb, pedal, and swim, and who needs only some coaching and structure to be able to participate in any sport she might turn to. A child who has all the roots of empathy and courtesy, of willingness and friendship lodged in her heart, and is ready to go forth and charm the world with more than just her sweet smile, for she has the seeds of a lovely person, a good person springing forth in her, needing only some nurturing as they continue to grow. Mind, body, and soul.

She is three. And powerful magic she is, indeed.

Happy birthday on this, your third birthday, my Pumpkinpie.
May your years only add further dimension to the wonderful Shape of Three.