In Edian, the “ian” represents the cultivated garden beds—those bordered, intentional spaces where the process of life unfolds: rooting, sprouting, ripening, and returning. It is within these beds that the cycle breathes. Surrounding them, the “nai” emerges—not as absence, but as structured stillness. Formed by the red brick paths that trace an X between beds, this space is neither decay nor bloom, but a vital contrast: the visible pause that gives rhythm to life's motion. Just as French intensive gardening arranges beds with precision to maximize life within bounds, so too does this model mirror a deeper order. The ian is what grows; the nai is what holds. Through it all, one message endures: Lamedh ad verum ethos nos ducit—“The staff leads us to the true ethos.” Lamedh, the guiding principle, points the way—through garden, through silence, through form—to a legacy grounded in truth and trust.

In Edian, the “ian” forms the garden bed—the fertile ground, the living process. Written like the number 9, it calls forth November, the ninth month, a time of late harvest and introspection. It is here—within this defined space—that life takes place: rooted, deliberate, sacred. Surrounding the beds is the “nai”, drawn as an X, the Roman numeral 10, signifying December—a threshold of endings and beginnings. The red brick paths that cross between the beds do not host life, yet they are essential. They are not death, but pause. Not emptiness, but form without process—the framework that gives rhythm and distinction to what grows. Together, ian (9) and nai (10) embody the Sagittarius—the archer who lives in motion yet aims with precision. Sagittarius spans both months: the life that is lived and the space that gives it shape. All of it—bed and border, growth and stillness—is held in the arc of one truth: Lamedh ad verum ethos nos ducit “The staff leads us to the true ethos.” The garden is a covenant, the path a vow. And within its design lies a map—of time, of self, of trust.