Numbers ? I have always been allergic to them. They tell me nothing, so I ignore them and confuse them without malice. They are all equal to me. Immersed in The Stars of Compostela, this medieval bible of the art of sacred builders, I savour the adventures of apprentice carpenter Jehan le Tonnerre, Jean at first sight. And I come across an ignored passage that justifies my digital disgust giving it deep meaning.
Jehan the Thunder is a future carpenter, a rabbit, such is the name of the apprentices among the Jacques. Jehan dreams of being a carpenter of church. He knows that he will soon wear the crow’s-foot sign on his cotta. He will soon be pedantic. For now he’s just a pupil — noble word: the pupil is the one who is raised and who is raised. In the language of Oc, a pedocca is a child of Master Jacques or a child of Mother Goose.
Jehan will be a builder, one of those who raise churches for man and not for God. While walking with the Passants companions, this carpenter rabbit receives lessons of sacred building. Walking and standing, because nothing good can be learned sitting or lying down. It is by walking that one is wise and that thoughts are put in order. Little by little, step by step, he is introduced to the art of line, geometry of proportions and relationships, without any number — sweet science!
At each stop, the student makes his hand on the oak of the woodwork, without which no vault could rise. The cut stones are laid in order on the oak arch, and when their balance is locked by the keystone, the arch is in tension. The stones will be subjected to the strong pressure that the entire building exerts on the vault. Thus they will be able to work in the body of monks and faithful, transmitting the energy of awakening to each and everyone.
Jehan’s ascent to the top of himself is a feast of every page. What edifying secrets he learns, and the reader with him. The author of this book, Henri Vincenot, titled his masterpiece The Stars of Compostela. I already know that there are seven of them — in spite of my hate for figures, I have retained this one. They remind me of seven magical stars, our heavenly mothers who make up the Great Bear, in Latin Ursa Major, in the golden tongue Ur Samaj OrGold.
Sublime keystone that every time bewitches me, I readand re-read it. A few days ago, I came across the passage that enlightened and comforted me. “Numbers? He never used them. Perhaps there was one somewhere, but Jehan had never met one, and it seemed that his masters had not seen one either. Man can perfectly live, create and procreate without numbers. The number is an invention of the devil. It is certainly the fruit of the forbidden tree. And the kitchens that can be made by combining them are a deadly poison.
As for this science, which the Arabs dared to bring from their scorpion land, and which they call ‘al djebra’, it is sperm of the devil”. (H. Vincenot, The Stars of Compostela, p.201)
May the reader forgive Vincenot’s bluntness, he is the mirror of the medieval language and customs of the time, when the Arabs had confiscated the tomb of Christ Jesus in Jerusalem. Strange destiny of this once holy city, for Christians, Jews and Muslims.
The initiate Vincenot knew even more. If we break down djebra into two words, we find Ra, the Unbeaten Sun, but also Rama, Ramos or Ram, the ram god, the founding father of the present world. The beginning of the word, djeb, does indeed exist. Djeb is one of the oldest and most influential cities in Egypt: there is a trace of a king of the first dynasty, Ouadjib. A cult is rendered to the scorpion goddess Hededet or Serket — which justifies the author’s pejorative “scorpion land”.
It should therefore be thought that al djebra, algebra, originated in this old city, probably in the time of Rama. Rama who gave birth to countless offspring, and who, as the first god of the Old Druidic Religion, became the devil for the new religions.
Christians know the number cursed by Jesus himself, 666. This is the figure of the Beast, this reptilian devil, the tempting serpent of Genesis. Another image of Ra? We can believe it… Vincenot asserts that not only the Beast’s number, but that all the figures are an invention of the devil, and I agree. Those who give their soul to numbers lose it. Without numbers, no money, no sales, no bankers, no speculators.
Without the figures, we find the state of nature dear to Jean-Jacques Rousseau. A true forerunner of the sixty-eight relovution whom I solemnly call baba cool honoris causa.
The falsification of history has done more to mislead humans than any other thing of humankind.
I prefer decryption to encryption. So I am in my place to exhume the meaning behind the myth, the truth behind the legend. I curse accounts and counters, I love tales and storytellers.French: compteur, conteur Patiently struggling against the frenzy of calculators and the diktat of numbers, those who tell stories do public salvation. Far from figures and account statements, they live by the air of time and feed on the pleasure they give.
Don’t talk to me about numerology, I leave these demonic superstitions to the devil who designed them. Number is the enemy of being. More inhuman than the one Molière has castigated, the current medicine is only a salad of figures, between the globular count and the numerical curves. Doctors turn to zombies. The screen, unrepentant cipher, pilots them with strokes of 1 and zero. Staggering columns of figures devoid of common sense, here is the dead heart of all current disciplines. To think some people don’t believe in decline!
Everything can be built without numbers: churches, cathedrals, and even human lives. Rid of this living wound, the human will find the gift, the barter, the joy of giving the best of himself, the happiness of sharing, the great strength of solidarity. I now know that my disgust with numbers is rooted in my distant Celtic consciousness, which goes back not only to the Middle Ages but well before. Even antiquity is too recent to explain. We must look further into a foggy past, where the great light of divine teaching remains clouded by unbelief.
One day the veil will fall, the naked Isis will be in every human, and with one heart the united people will walk towards its redemption. On that day, which I hope will come soon, the dictatorship of numbers, figures and numeracy will fall like dead skin. The rejuvenating molt, the awakening dawn, the love that carries will help the human people in their long journey through the desert. Spring for the soul, it will see the crumbling concrete revered. Not only that of the hideous buildings, but the concrete of the hearts will fall to dust.
Eat the salad, not the figures
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