There’s nothing more life affirming than finding a listacle on the internet that validates your self-perception. Few experiences are more rewarding than reading “15 Signs You’re A Balls To The Wall Extrovert” and putting a check mark by every single item. You can keep this type of hardcore evidence in your back pocket for personality related emergencies, to prove to everyone that your extrovertism is unarguably quantifiable. These small victories reinforce the the aspects of yourself of which you are most proud, the ones you hope others will recognize. The deeply satisfying verification of feeling like you know and understand your true self, can only be countered by the bitter taste of disappointment when something happens to prove you’ve been bamboozled. Realizing that you may not possess the qualities of who you believe yourself to be is like falling asleep while the sun’s out and waking up in complete darkness.
So you can imagine my shock when I realized I am not among the blessed population of people who see elevens on the regs — and I don’t just mean literally seeing, as in the function of using your vision. People who see elevens actually connect to, honor, and supernaturally bond with the set of back-to-back ones. After an influx of Facebook post shares of one particular article about noticing this number, I took the bait and clicked. A regrettable click at that, since reading this story brought to my attention that I am not as special or spiritually aligned as I fancied myself to be. It goes a little something like this: people who see the number 11, especially in pairs (11:11 on a clock, for example), have superior energy and will inherit the Earth with their namaste drum circle. It’s a well seasoned phenomenon of the New Age flavor that connects the dots between numerology and having the ability to intuit your soul’s cravings. And it sounds freaking amazing. Referred to as “The Twin Flames,” the number 11 touches a place deep in the spirit of those who canonize it’s repeated occurrence and unlocks a world of blissful clarity that those of us who merely think 11 is a placeholder between 10 and 12 will never come close to comprehending.
“How could I not be seeing this?” I wondered after finishing the article. Even worse, the only 11’s I did notice were the two between my eyebrows, and those only made me feel mad and old, not transcendent. Did my distain for my wrinkles lower my vibration on the extraordinary frequency of the 11 continuum? What kind of monster doesn’t accept the enlightenment of the Twin Flames? Not only did I fail to acknowledge the deeper meaning of this sacred number, when I did stumble upon it’s presence, I cursed its existence. It was clear I was doomed to never experience pure love and perfect zen.
For days I walked around ready to ambush a set of double ones, an attempt to prove to myself that simmering deep within me was a natural ability to connect with the great unknown. But any Elevener (as I am assuming they call themselves) will be the first to tell you that a strong armed approach will never yield a glittery pair of magical unos. The wonder abides in letting go — not looking, just allowing.
Some of the things I tell myself about who I am are true, but those facts can be hard to decipher as the static of distorted sentiments reaches deafening decibels. But if I close my eyes and focus my listening, I can pick up on the beats of realness, the unfiltered me-ness that is my true self. The same not looking, the same allowing that grants Eleveners the Twin Flames, reveals to me the authenticity I crave. And I doubt there’s any listacle that can rock my world more than that.
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