Of course, different cultural traditions hold different numbers to be sacred. Four, for instance.
Four seasons: winter, spring, summer, fall.
Four ages: infancy, youth, adulthood, old age.
Four cardinal directions: north, south, east, west.
Four phases of each day: dawn, daylight, dusk, darkness.
Since different traditions disagree, I suppose I’m not sure what’s actually sacred in life. I suppose that’s what I’m searching for. And if all our cultural traditions have branched over the ages from some ancient common heritage as a single human race, I suppose my instinct is to trace them back to their oldest and deepest shared root: survival. Sustenance. Dirt.