Never thought of seven until I had to.
Hi, everyone-
I never had a lucky number. But a lot of people I know do. And seven comes up pretty frequently.
How about you?
Recently, though, I had to think about how many steps I’m taking each day. 10,000 to be specific. At least according to all the health gurus out there. But since I recently injured my leg, I had to confront the reality of this seemingly arbitrary big, round number.
Why did they choose 10,000? Why not 9,999? Why not 9,000? Is it just because it sounds good? Do people actually take 10,000 per day?
These are the questions that I had to ask, when this summer, I went to the 778 AD ancient Buddhist temple of Borobudur. Borobudur temple, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was buried under volcanic ash for around 1,000 years before archeologists discovered it in 1814.
You can see that, even from historical depictions, during its heyday, this temple was no joke.
My plans to visit this temple were grand.
I had the full strength of my two legs when I booked the long-haul flight. But almost 12-months now of screaming in pain, walking with anything that resembles a crutch, butt-crawling around the house, wondering why sometimes I can walk and sometimes I can’t, and searching for real reasons why the medical system is beyond broken—changed the way this trip turned out.
Firstly, wheelchair accessibility in the surrounding ancient temple grounds was not a thing. One thing I learned having worked on historic construction and preservation projects before, is ramps are expensive. And so the bare minimum required by code is usually all that people care to build.
The rest, well, if you’re in a wheelchair: Go figure it out yourself.
Secondly, all of the six doctors—whom I asked, “What’s wrong with my leg,” (which they still haven’t figured out, by the way)—told me to count my steps. Some of them threw the whole “10,000-steps a day” my way again.
And foolishly, I went ahead and did 10,000 a day.
The leg got worse. The screaming at night went beyond my control.
And now, my kids have to make dinner for me every day. It’s not easy to be a kid these days to begin with. Add to that: the mounds of homework, walking to school themselves, the sometimes-joy sometimes-begrudging effort to help me bathe, the emotional roller-coaster of getting woken up by my screaming. And all the while wondering why the mother is now helpless and the helpless is now mothering.
When they’re not looking, I won’t look at my face. Because I could no longer hear my crying:
I could see its silence.
I tried thumbing through stacks of archival materials just to forget about everything. And in between rounds of visits to physical therapy, radiology, rheumatology, orthopedics, and now neurology—I’m starting to think that the ancient people’s inclination to treat the number seven as special, is much less voodoo-bogus than modern medicine’s detached approach to the blanket 10,000-steps per day.
So when I managed to get to Borobudur with a little (or rather, a lot) of help from my young kids—while counting my steps on crutches and feeling nothing like I count—I couldn’t help but noticed ‘seven’ reappearing in other historical philosophies.
There’s not enough time here to go through the entirety of where the number seven has been referenced throughout ancient history. In Christianity. In Hinduism. In Islam. In Judaism. And even across polytheistic mythologies and ancient folklore.
The general consensus is similar:
Seven represents completeness.
Not the hustle of reaching.
Not the necessity of fetching.
Not even the act of finishing.
…
Completeness.
As in:
A full cycle that had already reached its midday peak and sunset-ed.
A primal wave that had peaked and valley-ed multiple times before finally resting.
A revolution that had seen its own universe, decided that it’s time to come home, and stayed.
I don’t know much about numerology. But I know that when it comes to bodily pain—I have little interest in going through a peak. Or having passed a valley.
Completion sounds pretty good right now.
So as my kids held my phone and pushed me with:
“C’mon, mommy, just stand without the crutches for a few seconds. It’ll be quick. We can take your picture!” …
… I could only think of one thing:
I wonder if I could just do it for 7 seconds.
Obviously, that number was already top of mind. But, of course, when the goal is to stand without crutches for 7 seconds: It’s a lot easier than 10,000.
One day, perhaps, I’ll be able to climb the steps of Borobudur.
One day, perhaps, the world will accept seven steps as ten thousand.
One day, perhaps, pain will transform itself into purpose.
But for now:
Seven is good enough to help me get one step closer to completeness.
-Thalia
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-Thalia
Yes, this whole business of seemingly arbitrary figures for targets is everywhere, and you are right to be sceptical I think. "Agenda 2030"...."Net Zero"......"two litres of water per day"...etc. Easy to remember, I guess, to be fair!. Sounds like you are having a lot to deal with in terms of pain and mobility. I hope you get some answers soon and can make progress.
Interesting piece! Here’s wishing you a complete recovery and soon. Thank you for sharing.