Ever struggled with triangles in geometry lessons, wondered why ships and aircraft have a habit of vanishing into them [of the Bermuda variety] or found yourself in a compromising emotional one? If so, you probably know first hand a thing or two about triangles.
If that knowledge extends beyond the superficial, we might be entering more interesting territory, even considering the symbolism of three – the number of their points. From here on, the range of possibilities becomes positively dizzying. Mind, body, spirit, perhaps, or the Holy Trinity, or past, present and future? You pays your money and you takes your choice, but exploring the realm of the triangle is like following Lewis Carroll’s White Rabbit down its hole; you can find yourself in extraordinary and intriguing places.
Numerologists would have us believe that, as the only number representing the sum of the two which precede it, three symbolises nothing less than the birthing of true wisdom. And the older the civilisation, of course, the more likely we are to find triangles featuring in myth and legend. Those on even a nodding acquaintance with Greek will be familiar with the fourth letter of its alphabet: delta, symbol of the open door, entry into infinite possibilities. Closer to home, the triangle occupies a prominent place in the Celtic tradition, where it is held to indicate a threefold seasonal or cyclical influence embracing birth / renewal, death / closure and life / transcendence. Little wonder, perhaps, the Major General in Pirates of Penzance warbles cheerfully regarding those “many cheerful facts about the square on the hypotenuse”.
If triangologists exist [and if not, they should do] then one of the most eminent can often be found roaming the hills, mountains and volcanoes of his native Iceland. Bearded, light of step and bright of eye, psychiatrist Dr Haraldur Erlendsson manages to combine a demanding role as CEO of the largest private health clinic in Iceland with research into his passion; patterns on the land. He has unearthed them across the globe, but the story began at home, in Iceland, nearly two decades ago. Studying maps of a part of the country to which he had been sent as a GP, some intuitive sense led him to draw lines connecting three places, the names of which contained references to the colour green. To his surprise, he found himself looking at a mathematically perfect isosceles triangle. Intrigued, he began researching places which had common elements in their names, or the sound of those names, or for which the connection was of a different nature, related to historical, geographical or religious significance, or perhaps cropping up in myth, legend or, in the case of Iceland, saga.
Interested only in those exhibiting mathematical precision, he developed a high level of skill in identifying potential candidates, and now has hundreds of computer files packed with them, from India to Indiana, the Holy Land to Holyhead, and the Great Pyramid to Croagh Patrick.
All very well, you may reasonably say. A man as sane as you hope a psychiatrist would be has discovered what he [and others] firmly believe to be patterns on the Earth. Do the words circle and crop come to mind? Not necessarily, suggests the genial Dr Erlendsson, provided you are prepared to ditch a few old ideas, expand your horizons beyond the rational and logical, and consider possibilities of a kind you have probably not allowed heretofore.
After all, having come thus far in pursuit of the White Rabbit, what do you have to lose by tracking it a little further? What if, enquires the Icelander, the triangles are evidence of a higher consciousness, and by aligning ourselves with it, we might be able to access a more elevated consciousness within ourselves?
This sounds like a good time to quit the realm of the esoteric, come right back down to earth and get grounded. Exactly how does Erlendsson suggest we “align ourselves with higher consciousness” and what can we expect to happen if we did? One simple, elementary way of doing so is to let the triangles guide us to a place which possesses a “spiritual energy”. Although churches, temples or other places of worship might be an obvious first choice for some, Erlendsson reminds us of a recent quote from Bjork, an internationally known pop singer. “Icelanders don’t go to church,” she reminded us. “They go for a walk.”
Put another way, such places are most easily found in nature. The most obvious examples are high mountains, seen since time immemorial as places where Man is closest to the heavens. By simply scaling a “sacred mountain”, Erlendsson tells us, and invoking the spirit guardians which inhabit it, we can experience what it is like to resonate with the essence of that place. To the question: “And then what?” he responds with a grin. “That,” he replies, “depends on where you happen to be on your inner journey. Rather than wanting to know the outcome in advance, try it.”
And before scoffing and going on our way, consider our very own Croagh Patrick, on the summit of which, if legend is to be believed, St Patrick fasted for 40 days. Every single year, thousands of pilgrims are drawn to the Reek. That is a lot of people, and they come from all over the world. Would it not be brave – or stupid – to deny the possibility that what is considered by many to be the holiest mountain in Ireland possesses a mysterious, invisible, intangible yet potent magnetic force? And if the experience were not a positive one, if it did not touch something deep inside almost every visitor, would people continue to come in their droves?
For budding or wannabe triangologists, The Man Who Drew Triangles from Dr Triangle Haraldur Erlendsson and Keith Hagenbach is published by Cosmic Egg Books
