Avalanche

Ah, spring skiing.  It holds an allure for some unmatched by even the most ardent football fan.  Ski buffs, you know, ready to dare spring squalls and increased avalanche danger for a few possible hours of sun on snow.  This leads me to a tale to introduce our second triad, three numbers that blend harmoniously like a musical cord.

(That’s okay, refill your coffee mug.  I’ll wait.  Waiting…still waiting…Okay, let’s get started.)

One spring day, three very odd friends, One, Five, and Seven, set off for the slopes.  (You expected Olympic athletes?  I’m a numerologist, after all!)  These three saw life quite differently, but they somehow remained in harmony most of the time.  Amazing since they were so “odd.”  Know what I mean?  In fact they’d long since formed their own Odd Fellows’ Club.  They’d invited others to join, but few did.  Three and Nine joined in compatibly at times.  Eight remained neutral, but these guys didn’t do anything for him. The rest didn’t get this club at all. It felt just too–well, odd.

Anyway, One had long since ordered the tickets and made all the arrangements for this long awaited day.  He let Five and Seven know precisely when he’d be by to pick them up because he, of course, would drive.  As always, Five gave him an argument on that, but One wouldn’t hear otherwise.  What’s more, One had researched a new route that would save 30 minutes on the road, thus more time for skiing.  Five found this prospect exciting, while Seven simply trusted in his Higher Power that the road wouldn’t be washed out and all would be well.  Which it was, of course—or this might be a very short story!

Once there, Five bounded from the rig, whisked his skis from the roof of the mini-van and charged ahead.  “I’ll save a place in line,” he called back, as One and Seven struggled to retrieve and carry the remainder of the gear from the van.

A layer of fog was building from a nearby lake, but the three barely noticed.  They’d be above it most of the time, so no sweat.

As the ski lift skimmed over the top landing, Five hit the snow.  He made a quick approach and was about to push off on his first run when One stopped him.

“Better let me go first, Five,” he called.  “I flew over this area yesterday so can lead you both down the first time.  They’ve reworked this area since we were here last, you know.  Could be a bit tricky.”

“Doesn’t bother me, One,” Five tossed back.  “You know I love change.  Just adds to the adventure.  What’s life without a little risk?”

One stood tall and motioned Five to go ahead.  “You first then, Five.  Let’s see if you can outsmart that fog.”

Seven, totally oblivious to the exchange, had wandered 30 feet away.  He stood gazing at the sky and the valley below as the two became one.  The fog blanketed the lodge now and crept higher to meet the first break in the tree line.  The sky’s royal blue bounced off the advancing white canopy in brilliant rays of sunlight.

Captivating, thought Seven.  Such beauty as this feeds the spirit like nothing else.  He stood wrapped in awe, insulated from the other skiers or the calls of One in his direction.  Aware of Seven’s propensity for such absorption, One finally tossed his hands in the air and set his sights on the slope before him.

Finally releasing himself from nature’s grasp, Seven turned to start his descent.  “Such a gorgeous day,” he said to no one in particular as he gave his goggles a final adjustment.

Gorgeous, yes, and warming nicely for the fifth day in a row.  Warming just enough, in fact, to weaken the packed snow.  Over half way down the run Seven heard it, that roaring like an oncoming train that no skier ever wants to hear.  He tossed a furtive glance over his shoulder.  With lightening insight he knew what he had to do.  If he could ski close enough to the trees, he may be able to grab a branch, hold on, then climb out if the avalanche overtook him.  He wouldn’t let himself think about how impossible that sounded.  It was all he had now.  He veered right to the edge of the trees.

Seconds stood still as the snow poured over him in a billowing wave.  He reached.  Could he catch a limb?  And would it hold in the avalanche’s power?

One and Five, both at the bottom now heard the roar too.  They glanced at each other in disbelief.  “I’ll get help,” stated One matter-of-factly.  The words fell somewhere in the misty fog behind Five, who had torn back up the slope on skis.

Help converged where Seven had last been seen by another skier.  As precious minutes ticked by, the rescue patrol fanned out, along with Five.

“There he is!”  Five shouted, seeing portions of two arms wrapped around a tree limb.  In seconds Five was on his knees, digging with his hands in the snow.  “Seven!  Seven, can you hear me?”  he yelled, probing to uncover his friend’s face.

As Seven’s head appeared, it was clear he was unconscious.  Was he breathing?  Five retreated slightly to let the pros do their jobs.

Twenty minutes later, they were loading Seven into the back of an ambulance for transport to the nearest hospital.  He was conscious now.  One grabbed his arm just before they lifted him into the back.  “Whatever possessed you to head for the trees, Seven?  You could have been killed!”

“But I wasn’t,” replied Seven weakly.  “Read a guy did that just last week and survived, so I thought it might be my best shot too.  Lucky for me the snow pushed my head down between my arms creating a small air pocket.  Besides, I knew you two would think of something if this didn’t work.   I don’t hang out with brainy friends for nothing, you know.

So there you have it, my friends.  My tale of three highly unlikely friends in the world of numbers held together in an unlikely bond.  For 1, 5, and 7 are all mental numbers, you see, creating the harmonious and supportive Mental/Thought Triad in numerology. One, the leader and original thinker; Five, the adventurous change maker who shines in a crisis; and Seven, the spiritual, nature-loving intellectual who thrives in an unending sea of knowledge.  Three numbers that work beautifully together in spite of their differences.

Don’t you wish people would be more like that?

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