“The Hidden Geometry of Flowers” by Keith Critchlow is a unique exploration into the often overlooked world of floral geometry. This book isn’t just about flowers; it delves into the cosmic forces and archetypes that manifest themselves in the beauty and symmetry of the floral world.
Critchlow, a renowned thinker and geometrician, sets his focus on an aspect of flowers that has received the least attention – their geometric properties. He presents flowers as teachers of symmetry and geometry, or the ‘eternal verities’ as Plato called them. In doing so, he treats flowers as sources of inspiration and appreciation, inviting readers to contemplate the deeper, hidden meanings they embody.
The book is a journey from the point to the line, to the plane, and then to the solid, mirroring the expansion of a flower during growth. Critchlow uses this geometric progression to develop his theme throughout the book, providing a fresh perspective on how we view and understand flowers. This analogy offers a compelling perspective on the profound interconnections between different realms of knowledge. It underscores the fact that in the grand design of nature, everything is interconnected, and there’s a deeper truth waiting to be discovered beneath the surface.
Thus, “The Hidden Geometry of Flowers” is more than an academic exploration; it’s a celebration of nature’s mathematical genius and a tribute to the aesthetic delight flowers bring. The book prompts us to imagine a world without flowers and reinforces their importance, not just for their color, fragrance, and form, but also for their medicinal benefits.
In essence, “The Hidden Geometry of Flowers” is a must-read for anyone interested in understanding the natural world through a new lens. It’s a testament to the power of observation and reflection, showing how a deeper understanding of nature can awaken a sense of recognition and consciousness within us.
Just as a point is the genesis of geometry, so too is the seed the beginning of a flower’s existence. It is a concentrated point of potential, an encapsulated promise of what’s to come. The seed, much like a geometric point, carries within itself the blueprint for a future flower, waiting for the right conditions to germinate and begin its journey of growth.
As a seed germinates, it sends out a root downwards and a shoot upwards, akin to the line in geometry that extends indefinitely in two directions. This stage mirrors the line, representing a flower’s bidirectional growth. The root delves deep into the soil, drawing nutrients and anchoring the plant, while the shoot reaches towards the light, preparing to undertake photosynthesis.
The development of leaves and branches marks the transition from line to plane. As the first leaves unfurl, they spread out on a plane, creating a surface area for the vital process of photosynthesis. The branches extend outward, forming a network of lines that cover a plane. This stage is reminiscent of how lines in geometry can connect and intersect to form a plane.
Finally, the formation of the flower bud and its eventual blooming into a full flower symbolizes the progression to a solid in geometry. The bud, initially a tightly-packed solid, undergoes a dramatic transformation as it blooms. The petals unfold, revealing a three-dimensional structure that’s not just a visual marvel but also a complex organ for reproduction.
The Vesica Pisces: Matrix of the seeds 2, 3 and 5
Flowers are primarily classified based on their structure, symmetry, and the number of floral parts they possess. Each flower tells a story of its flowering (angiosperm) lineage, carrying the imprint of its familial roots in the form of its morphology.
The first broad division separates flowers into monocots and dicots. Monocots, short for monocotyledons, typically have flower parts in multiples of three, parallel-veined leaves, and one embryonic seed leaf. Many common flowers, such as lilies and orchids, belong to this group.
Dicots, or dicotyledons, on the other hand, usually have flower parts in multiples of four or five, net-veined leaves, and two embryonic seed leaves. Roses, daisies, and sunflowers are examples of dicot flowers.
Five-limit tuning, 5-limit tuning, or 5-prime-limit tuning is any system for tuning a musical instrument that obtains the frequency of each note by multiplying the frequency of a given reference note (the base note) by products of integer powers of 2, 3, or 5 (prime numbers limited to 5 or lower).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Five-limit_tuning
Further subdivisions exist within these broad categories, creating a rich tapestry of classifications that speak to the diversity and complexity of the floral world. These include families, genera, and species, each a smaller circle within the larger Venn diagram of floral life.
But beyond their scientific categorization, each flower carries a philosophical reflection of its own. Their varied structures, colors, and fragrances serve as reminders of the beauty in diversity and the unity in nature’s grand design. In the garden of life, every flower, regardless of its classification, plays a crucial role in the symphony of existence.
Chapter 1: “The Arrival”
In the stillness of the unknown, I found myself in a Garden of Flowers. It was a place that defied definition, yet felt oddly familiar. A realm where blossoms dictated the rhythm of existence, and their patterns held more than met the eye. There was an unsaid language in their symmetry, an unspoken code in their geometry. It was as if the flowers were whispering, beckoning me to remember something deep within, something fundamental.
As I ventured deeper into this garden, the air was thick with the scent of blooms. Colors swirled around me in a vibrant display of nature’s palette. Each flower stood tall, an emblem of perfect balance and harmony, their petals unfurling to reveal secrets held within their core. In their silent state, they seemed to echo lessons of unity, of oneness. The connection was profound, almost visceral.
In the heart of this floral landscape, I found a guide, a map to navigate the intricate maze of floral patterns. Each section echoed the truths I was beginning to understand: each petal, each stem followed precise rules, a testament to nature’s mathematical genius. The language of flowers was not just one of color and fragrance; it was one of numbers and ratios, of symmetry and scale.
And so, my journey began. A journey of discovery, of learning, and most importantly, of remembering. Because in the heart of the Garden of Flowers, I was not just exploring the world around me, but also the world within.
The First Call
As the sun began its ascent, casting long shadows that danced upon the dew-kissed earth, something remarkable happened. The Poppy began to open. It was a slow, deliberate process, a dance choreographed by the rhythm of nature itself. There was an elegance to it, a simplicity that belied the complexity of the life force animating each petal, each vein.
The Poppy did not merely open to the blue sky. It unfolded, revealing its inner world layer by layer. It was a spectacle of vulnerability and strength, of surrender and assertion. The Poppy was revealing itself to the sky, to the world, to me.
There was a language in this opening, a silent dialogue between the flower and the sky, the seen and the unseen, the finite and the infinite. It was a language of symmetry and geometry, of patterns repeating across scales, from the smallest petal to the vast expanse of the sky.
As I watched the Poppy open, I felt a strange pull, a sense of recognition. It was as if the Poppy was not just revealing itself, but also reflecting something within me. It was a mirror, a reminder of my own opening, my own unfolding, my own journey towards truth.
In the silence of the morning, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, the Poppy spoke its truth. And in that moment, I understood the call of the flowers. They were not just calling me to observe, to learn, to understand. They were calling me to remember – to remember the symmetry, the geometry, the patterns within me, the patterns around me. To remember my place in the grand scheme of things. To remember who I truly am.
The Second Call
As the morning sun cast its golden glow, the Bleeding Hearts began their silent dialogue with the day. There was a certain rhythm to their existence, a pattern that echoed the pulse of life itself. Each heart, encased in a shell of pink and white petals, was a fortress, a sanctuary for the precious pollen within.
The Bleeding Hearts did not flaunt their beauty. They wore it with a quiet confidence, a subtle assertion of their role in the grand tapestry of existence. They were not mere spectators in the dance of life, but active participants, each heart beating in sync with the rhythm of nature.
Their alignment was not a matter of chance, but a testament to the intricate design that underpins all of life. The Bleeding Hearts stood in line, not out of conformity, but out of unity. Each heart was unique, yet part of a whole, a single note in the symphony of nature.
Watching the Bleeding Hearts in their pollen-protective poise, I felt an echo of recognition. It was as if the flowers were reflecting a truth about my own existence – the balance between vulnerability and strength, the dance between individuality and unity, the interplay between the seen and unseen.
In the quietude of the morning, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, the Bleeding Hearts whispered their truths. It was a subtle call, a gentle reminder of the deeper patterns of existence, of the intricate design that weaves us all together. In their shy, unassuming way, the Bleeding Hearts were inviting me to remember – to remember my own alignment, my own unity, my own dance in the grand symphony of life.
The Third Call
As the morning light filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor with patterns of light and shadow, the Solomon’s Seal came alive. Each flower, akin to a perfectly tuned bell in a set of handbells, swayed gently in the breeze. The rustling wind acted as the unseen hand, coaxing out a silent symphony from their delicate forms, their movements orchestrated by the unseen conductor of the wind. It was a dance as old as time itself, a testament to the enduring rhythm of life.
They hung in quiet solitude, their beauty resonating in the silence of the understory. Each flower was a vessel of life, a cradle for the precious pollen within. Their rhythmic alignment was not a mere coincidence, but a reflection of the underlying order that pervades all of existence.
Observing the Solomon’s Seal, I felt a sense of recognition. The rhythmic hanging flowers mirrored my own journey, my own search for truth. Each step I took, each truth I uncovered, hung in my memory like the bell-like flowers on the stem of Solomon’s Seal. They were reminders of my journey, markers on the path to understanding.
In the hushed whispers of the forest, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, the Solomon’s Seal shared its wisdom. It was a gentle call, a reminder of the rhythm that binds us all, the harmony that pervades all of existence. In their unassuming way, the flowers of Solomon’s Seal were inviting me to remember – to remember my own rhythm, my own harmony, my own place in the grand symphony of life.
Chapter 2: “The Dance of Symmetry”
As I delved further into the Garden of Flowers, I found myself entranced by the dance of symmetry the flowers performed. Each petal, each leaf seemed to follow a carefully choreographed ballet of balance and order. The dance was not just beautiful but held a deeper meaning, a silent testament to nature’s perfection.
I began to see the world of flowers through a different lens. Not just as blossoms of beauty and fragrance, but as embodiments of sacred geometry. The way petals formed spirals, the intricate patterns in the blooming buds – they were all sketches drawn by nature herself, guided by the unseen hand of mathematical principles.
Each flower became a lesson in itself. From the spiraling sunflowers that followed the Fibonacci sequence to the roses, whose petals displayed the golden ratio, there was a world of wisdom in these blooms. Even the cherry blossoms, with their pentagonal symmetry, whispered secrets of harmony and unity.
The more I observed, the more I realized the dance was not just happening around me, but within me as well. The symmetry of the flowers resonated with something deep inside, stirring memories of unity, of oneness with the universe. It was a dance I had been part of all along, yet had forgotten.
In the silence of the Garden of Flowers, beneath the rustle of leaves and the soft hum of bees, the dance of symmetry continued. And with each step, I felt myself moving closer to understanding, to remembering my place in this grand dance of life.
The Fourth Call
In the heart of the sun-drenched meadow, amidst a sea of green, there stood a solitary Daffodil. Its form was a marvel of geometric perfection, a tangible manifestation of nature’s symmetrical dance.
The hexagonal shape of the Daffodil, where each petal met at the back in an intricate pattern of unity, was a testament to the precision and balance that underpins all of life. Each petal was its own entity, yet part of a whole, contributing to the symmetry that was greater than the sum of its parts.
Under the gaze of the midday sun, the Daffodil radiated a golden hue, its petals shimmering with an inner light. The honeyed fragrance it exuded was a subtle melody in the grand symphony of the meadow, a note that carried the promise of spring and new beginnings.
Observing the Daffodil, I was reminded of the inherent symmetry in all things. Just as the petals of the Daffodil joined at the back to form a perfect hexagon, so too are we all interconnected, parts of a larger pattern that is often unseen. We are individual, yet part of a collective, our actions rippling outwards, impacting the world around us in ways we may never fully comprehend.
The Daffodil stood as a beacon of truth, its hexagonal form a reminder of the harmony and balance that pervades all of existence. It was a silent call, a gentle nudge towards recognition – a recognition of our own symmetry, our own interconnectedness, our own role in the dance of life.
In the stillness of the meadow, amidst the rustle of grass and the hum of bees, the Daffodil shared its wisdom. In its unassuming way, it was inviting me to remember – to remember my own symmetry, my own unity, my own dance in the grand tapestry of life.
The Fifth Call
In the swaying fields, where the wind whispers stories of growth and the sun offers its golden benediction, there stood a solitary Sunflower. Its face turned towards the sky, it was a living testament to the mathematical precision that breathes life into the chaos of existence.
The spirals of the sunflower, both right-handed and left-handed, wound around its center in a dance of symmetry, reproducing the golden ratio of the Fibonacci sequence with an accuracy that human hands could only aspire to recreate, a pattern found throughout nature, from galaxies to pinecones. Each seed nestled within these spirals, a participant in this grand design, a testament to the order that underpins the universe.
Under the scrutiny of the midday sun, the sunflower radiated a warmth that was more than the sum of its golden petals. It was a warmth born of knowledge, of understanding the sublime language of mathematics that is woven into the fabric of life.
Observing the sunflower, I was reminded of our own place within the grand scheme. Just as the sunflower’s spirals followed the golden ratio, so too are we bound by unseen laws, patterns that guide our lives and our interactions. We are individual, yet part of a collective, actors in a drama scripted by the hand of nature.
The sunflower stood as a beacon of truth, its spirals a reminder of the harmony and balance that pervades all of existence. It was a silent call, a beckoning towards recognition – a recognition of our own patterns, our own rhythms, our own dance in the grand tapestry of life.
In the murmuring fields, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, the sunflower shared its wisdom. In its unassuming way, it was inviting me to remember – to remember my own pattern, my own rhythm, my own dance in the grand symphony of life.
The Sixth Call
In the heart of the wild, where nature paints with an unrestricted palette and the sun pours down its radiant energy, there bloomed a singular Passion Flower. Its form was an embodiment of aesthetic perfection, a harmonious blend of color and radiance, of form and number, that inspired awe and reverence.
Ten outer petals, each one a masterpiece of nature’s design, circumscribed the Passion Flower’s grand architecture. They were uniform yet unique, their collective symmetry a testament to the balance that is woven into the very fabric of existence. The number ten, the number of perfection for the human Kingdom, was reflected here in the Passion Flower’s anatomy, hinting at a deeper, universal order.
“The number of the deva evolution is six, as that of man is now five, and as ten stands for perfected man, so twelve stands for perfection in the deva kingdom.”
A Treatise on Cosmic Fire by Alice A. Bailey , p. 914
Under the soft caress of the morning sun, the Passion Flower radiated an ethereal glow. Its petals, bathed in hues of purple and white, shone with an inner light, their vibrancy a reflection of the life force that pulsed within. The sweet fragrance it exuded was a silent song, a melody that filled the air with notes of joy and promise.
Observing the Passion Flower, I was reminded of our own journey towards perfection. Just as the flower’s ten petals converged to form a perfect circle, so too are we all striving towards unity, towards a state of balance and harmony. We are individual, yet part of a collective, our actions contributing to the overall pattern of life.
The Passion Flower stood as a symbol of truth, its ten-petaled form a reminder of the perfection that lies within all of us, like a chalice made by joining our invoking hands. It was a silent call, a beckoning towards recognition – a recognition of our own perfection, our own balance, our own place in the grand tapestry of life.
In the whispering wild, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, the Passion Flower shared its wisdom. In its unassuming way, it was inviting me to remember – to remember my own perfection, my own balance, my own dance in the grand symphony of life.
The Seventh Call
In the quiet sanctuary of the blooming garden, where life manifests its artistry in a thousand different ways, there thrived the Rose. This was not merely a rose; it was a testament to the relentless rhythm of life, a spectacle of nature’s grand performance, a dance that combined drama, precision, and a silent, eternal song of existence.
The rose, cloaked in the protective embrace of its sepals, held within it a world of untold beauty. As the sun arched across the sky, casting its golden veil over the world, the sepals began their retreat. They peeled away from the petals in a spiral dance, a choreography dictated by the immutable laws of nature.
This dance was not a passing spectacle, a transient show of beauty. It was a dance that lasted through the life of the rose, an ongoing symphony of growth and release, of protection and freedom. Each day brought a new movement, each moment a subtle shift in the spiral pattern, the sepals and petals moving in harmony, guided by unseen forces.
Under the scrutiny of the sun, the released petals unfurled, basking in the glow of freedom and light. Their vibrant colors and intoxicating fragrance were a testament to the rose’s journey, a celebration of its resilience and determination. The dramatic release of the sepals was a silent call to observe, to appreciate, to marvel at the intricate ballet of life.
Watching the rose, I was reminded of our own journey. Just as the rose’s petals emerged from the protective sepals in a spiral dance, so too are we constantly evolving, shedding our layers to reveal our true selves. We are individual, yet part of a collective, each playing our part in the grand symphony of life.
The rose stood as a beacon of truth, a symbol of the enduring dance of change and adaptation. It was a silent call, a beckoning towards recognition – a recognition of our own patterns, our own rhythms, our own dance in the grand tapestry of existence.
In the whispering garden, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, the rose shared its wisdom. In its unassuming way, it was inviting me to remember – to remember my own pattern, my own rhythm, my own dance in the grand symphony of life.
Chapter 4: “Lessons from the Petals”
In the Garden of Flowers, every petal, every leaf had a story to tell. They held lessons of life encoded in their patterns, waiting for those who dared to listen. This part of my journey was about understanding these lessons, about deciphering the language of flowers.
The Sunflower, with its spiraling seeds, a tale of growth and evolution, of how life unfolds in beautiful patterns that echo across time and space, a reminder that even in the face of chaos, there is order, a hidden harmony that guides us. Elsewhere, a Lily, with its tetrahedral arrangement of petals, a testament to the power of balance, of maintaining equilibrium amidst the ebb and flow of existence.
But the most profound lesson came from the Rose, its beauty and perfection. But beneath its mesmerizing symmetry, the rose held a deeper truth. Its thorns were a reminder of the dual nature of existence – that beauty and pain, joy and sorrow, growth and decay are all part of the same dance of life.
In the silence of the Garden of Flowers, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, I found wisdom. The lessons from the petals were not just about understanding the world around me, but also about navigating the world within me. They were reminders of universal truths, echoes of the same principles that guide the stars and the galaxies. And in that moment, I realized that the pursuit of truth isn’t just about observing and understanding, but also about living and experiencing.
Chapter 5: “Remembering Wholeness”
In the Garden of Flowers, amidst the dance of symmetry and the geometry in bloom, I had discovered a world within a world. The lessons from the petals had revealed truths that were as profound as they were simple. But this section of my journey was not about learning. It was about remembering.
The flowers, in their silent wisdom, reminded me of something I had always known yet had forgotten – the wholeness of existence. Each petal, each leaf was part of a greater pattern, contributing to the beauty of the whole while retaining its individuality. They were separate, yet connected; diverse, yet unified.
This realization stirred something deep within me. I saw the reflection of this wholeness in everything around me – in the cycle of seasons, in the ebb and flow of tides, in the rhythm of my own breath. I was a part of this dance, a note in this symphony, a star in this galaxy. I was separate, yet connected; diverse, yet unified.
But remembering wholeness was not just about realizing my place in the grand scheme of things. It was also about recognizing the interconnectedness of all aspects of my being – body, mind, and spirit. I was not just a physical entity moving in space, nor was I just a conscious mind navigating through time. I was also a spiritual being, experiencing existence in its myriad forms.
In the silence of the Garden of Flowers, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, I remembered wholeness. I remembered that I am not just a part of the universe, but the universe itself, experiencing itself through the lens of ‘me’. And in that moment, I realized that the pursuit of truth is not just about understanding the world around us and within us, but also about remembering our true nature – our wholeness.
Chapter 6: “The Power of Recognition”
In the Garden of Flowers, where I had been learning, observing, and remembering, I came about a recognition, a simple realization – the world is as we see it.
A daisy, a sunflower, a lily, a rose, each holds their unique lessons. Yet, they were all just flowers till I recognized the patterns, the unity, the growth, and the balance they embodied. Recognition was the key that unlocked their wisdom, the lens that brought their truths into focus. Observation, Recognition, Revelation: the Triad of Initiation.
Recognition was not about discovering something new, but about seeing what was always there — RE-COGNIZED — in a new light. It was about shifting perspectives, about breaking free from the constraints of conventional thinking. It was an act of liberation, a step towards truth.
The power of recognition lay in its ability to transform the mundane into the profound, the ordinary into the extraordinary. A flower was no longer just a flower, but a living testament to the universal truths. A sunset was no longer just an end of a day, but a reminder of the cyclical nature of existence.
But the true power of recognition was not just in transforming how I saw the world around me, it also transformed how I saw myself. I recognized my own patterns, my own growth, my own balance. I recognized my place in the grand scheme of things, my interconnectedness with all of existence. I recognized myself as a conscious being capable of understanding, experiencing, and influencing the world around me.
In the silence of the Garden of Flowers, amidst the rustle of leaves and the hum of bees, I experienced the power of recognition. And in that moment, I understood that the pursuit of truth is not just about learning, observing, and remembering, but also about recognizing – recognizing the world for what it truly is, and recognizing ourselves for who we truly are.
Chapter 7: “The Departure”
The last chapter of my journey in the Garden of Flowers marked the end of a path and the beginning of another. It was time for departure.
I stood at the edge of the garden, the lessons of the petals imprinted on my soul. Unity, growth, balance, beauty – the flowers had spoken their truths, and I had listened. Now, it was time to carry those truths into the world, to apply them, to live them.
Departure is never easy. There’s a comfort in familiarity, a sense of safety in the known. But as I looked back at the garden, I realized that I wasn’t leaving anything behind. The lessons, the experiences, the memories – they were all a part of me now, woven into the fabric of my being.
There was a certain clarity in this realization. A precision that cut through the fog of uncertainty and illuminated the path ahead. The Garden of Flowers had been my teacher, my guide. But the journey, the pursuit of truth, was mine alone.
As I stepped beyond the borders of the garden, I felt a sense of freedom, a lightness of being. I was not just stepping into the unknown, but also into a realm of infinite possibilities. The world was my canvas, and I held the brush.
In the stillness of the moment, I heard the rustle of leaves one last time, the hum of bees fading into the distance. And in that silence, I understood the essence of departure. It was not an end, but a beginning. Not a loss, but a gain. Not a goodbye, but a promise of hello.
The departure from the Garden of Flowers marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. But the story, the pursuit of truth, continues. For the journey is not about reaching a destination, but about experiencing the journey itself. And with every step, with every breath, I am ready.
POSTSCRIPT
The orchid is an enigma, a paradox wrapped in vibrant colors and complex patterns. It stands alone in the realm of flowers, an entity unto itself. It is no daisy, no rose, nor lily. It is, quite simply, an orchid. A creation of nature that demands your attention with its unapologetic individuality and complex beauty.
Its petals, a canvas of color and pattern, do not seek to please but to astonish. Each petal, a testament to nature’s artistry, is painted with hues bold and subtle, forming patterns that defy human comprehension. There is a deliberate intricacy to it, a meticulousness that borders on the surreal. And yet, it exists, real as the earth beneath your feet.
The orchid blooms not with the reckless abandon of a sunflower, but with the measured pace of wisdom. It unfolds slowly, each petal revealing itself in its own time, a spectacle of patience and perseverance. This is no flower for the casual observer, it is a marvel for those who appreciate the beauty of process, for those who understand that true beauty often lies in the journey, not just the destination.
Its roots grip tightly to the trunks of trees or cling to rocks, drawing sustenance not from the soil but from air and rain. It is a survivalist, a rebel that breaks away from the conventional path and carves its own way.
The orchid is a maverick, defying convention, thriving where others falter. It thrives where others falter, in harsh terrains and challenging climates, proving that strength often lies in adaptability and resilience.
The orchid also embodies a paradox. Despite its flamboyant appearance, it is a master of deception. Some orchids mimic the scent and shape of female insects to attract males for pollination, a ruse as intricate as the patterns on its petals. Therein lies the truth of the orchid: it is as cunning as it is beautiful, a coalescence of nature’s artistry and ingenuity.
In its essence, the orchid is a testament to the complexity and diversity of life. It is a reminder that beauty often lies in the unconventional, the complex, and the patient unfolding of time. It is a symbol of resilience, adaptability, and cunning survival strategies. The orchid, in all its intricate beauty and complexity, is a manifestation of nature’s relentless pursuit of survival and propagation, standing as a testament to the power of evolution and the unfathomable depth of life’s creativity.
In the grand theatre of nature, the orchid plays its part with aplomb, a solitaire amidst the ensemble, a testament to nature’s relentless creativity and survival instinct. It stands as a reminder that in this world, there is always more than meets the eye, and the pursuit of truth often leads us down paths of unexpected beauty and complexity.
A hypothetical assignment of some flowers to the 7 chakras
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