What's the Number?

Kind of in a void, or a cul de sac this morning. Feels like a space "after," and "before," something, if you know what I mean. Not really anticipating, or forecasting, or expecting; just awake, attentive. The world seems to be offering many different storylines including: a planet in flames, consumed with pain, suffering, suicide bombs going off, OR, everything is static, normal, just another long hot summer day - sun up to sun down. Both stories in fact seem operative. I'm alive, in my own conscious state (my own Private Idaho?), wondering what's with all the needing, wanting, grasping? Is there a secret number that accounts for it all?