Angel-one, angel-two

Until around about 1996, I had counted seconds the usual way by saying "thousand-one, thousand-two," etc. But in 1996 (or thereabouts), when I was an active Toastmaster and working towards becoming a professional speaker (i.e., paid big bucks to deliver keynote addresses and entertain and motivate people from a stage), I got the idea of a sort of "trademark" for my speeches. I would suggest that people in the audience count "angel-one, angel-two" instead of the usual way, thereby reminding themselves that they had a guardian angel looking over them, guiding them, protecting them, and so on. A sort of touchstone, in other words, that everything was going to be okay, they had an ally when the going got rough. Supportive stuff.

In those days I was reading a book by Rupert Sheldrake, an English biochemist, plant physiologist (and, perhaps, pataphysicist¹): The Physics of Angels: Exploring the Realm Where Science and Spirit Meet (San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco, 1996).
    The fact that I was then trying to find a scientific foundation for things spiritual may have been the major reason that about ten years later I abandoned believing (or attempting to believe) in angels (and gods).
    But I still, from force of habit, count "angel-one, angel-two," and I do so even though I've made some effort (admittedly half-hearted) to switch over to "Darwin-one, Darwin-two."

I've decided I don't mind. It is a fact of my life that I need to honor that for many years I believed in angels (or, at any rate, tried to do so). And counting "angel-one, angel-two" always reminds me of another fact I honor more: I concluded that there aren't any angels (or any other supernatural beings) to believe in.
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1. Or pataphysician; see comments on "A most extraordinary mathematical proof."