At certain points in measured time, the world seems to come into alignment, concepts tend to clarify, ideas gel. But we know in our hearts that this is false, that midnight is as meaningless a concept as the idea that a new year begins at a certain second after a particular midnight. We cannot believe fully in these ideas because we understand that we worship and are guided by arbitrary signs created by humans: sequences of numbers, sounds, or letters.
But we continue to follow these signs because they direct our lives so well. Their meaningless is the source of their meaning and their power. We imbue them with their significance, so we believe them. Even if they become twisted out of shape, we continue to believe them, we continue to see them, we continue to understand them.
We can reduce the information in a sign and still be able to read it, still be able to make sense of it, to add sense to it. We do this to eradicate ambiguity, to make sense. The world is a mass of contradictory signs, so we must choose the ones to read, how to read them, the ones to believe.
In the end, we have only ourselves to blame. We look for symmetry. It pleases us. That is what we like about architecture, a metrical poem, crossword puzzles, seemingly deft plotting in a story. And the only thing that makes the asymmetrical interesting is that it runs counter to an existing symmetry. We need symmetry. We need symmetry to give beauty to the surprisingly asymmetrical.
We need 11:11 to find ourselves an idea to play with. We need 11:11 to feel our lives are temporarily in balance. We need 11:11 to feel human.
Without 11:11, the world just runs away from us, untamed, untameable, even unsought.
Sexy Girl responds:
11:11 is my fav time. To me it represents dimensional unity... like playing two octaves at once on the piano. Same but different. Somehow the harmonious moment is magnified when the two are played as one. Kinda like love relationships are meant to be ... yeah.