The poetry of three

Whenever I look for examples of something to bolster an argument, I strive to find three of them. One proves nothing. Two examples are insufficient. Four seem superfluous. But three, that is the ideal.

It's not just me, of course. Consider the Apostle Paul's "faith, hope and charity." Or "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness" from the Declaration of Independence. Somehow poetry comes in threes, and not just in haiku.

Sarah Hart

Sarah Hart explores the power of three in her book Once Upon a Prime. "What can explain the hold that the number 3 has on our psyche?" she asks. "I propose that the mathematics of triangles and trichotomies enables the triumph of the triple." I won't try to say what trichotomies are, as if I could, but she goes on at length with her explanation. But in essence, you can't make a geometric shape with just two sides. You need at least three. And for physical objects you need three dimensions.

There are many examples of common threes in our culture and in our literature, and here are more than just three. Morning, noon and night. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Three cheers. Small, medium and large. Our ABCs.  "Row, row, row your boat." Three little pigs. Three bears. Three billy goats gruff. The Holy Trinity. Gold, frankincence and myrrh. In jokes it is usually three people who meet in a bar. And on and on.

"Stories themselves have a beginning, middle, and end. The most common multivolume set is the trilogy," Hart writes. Even her own book has three parts.