Stromata, Sidewalks, & the Number 4

"Stromata are the supporting frameworks of cells or organisms—the connective tissues that comprise the organs making life possible." Charlotte Martin has posted this definition of 'Stromata,' and I find it so wonderfully appropriate for where we are all at in this crazy existence. I couldn't sleep well last night, and CharMar's new album arrived in the mail yesterday, and Karin arrived with her family. I love having Kare Bare here! Helping to complete the family of the Buck Motor Inn!....I awoke at 6:00am and decided to lay in the dark and listen to the album. I'm in love. The last album was piano-organic and orchestral, and this one is more Casio-roots, pots and pans and forks and spoons as instruments, dripping techno beats in the background. An '80s tribal feel. Different but magnificent. Stromata. More and more I feel, almost see, the cords connecting us all, veils of glitter and feathers weaving amongst us all, turning the universe into one giant organ.

I've always been obsessed with sidewalks, with their cracks and bumps, where they lead and where they end. Shel Silverstein comes to mind, of course, his 'Where the Sidewalk Ends' and his 'Giving Tree.' I love finding those patches in cities where sidewalks just stop and then grass takes over for a while and you wonder, "How odd, why didn't they put any sidewalk squares here?" Then I walk onto the grass, off some pre-determined path, and make sure my shoes sink nicely into the grass and dirt. But I had an odd thought last week. I was on the sidewalk by home, and I turned on the sidewalky path leading up to my house's front door and I thought, "Huh, I always thought that where sidewalks end are these faraway places I'll never understand, they're those patches in cities, but really my sidewalk ends at home, I'm home, I'm free." Grace flooded me and filled me up.

Home. I had the most beautiful thought while listening to CharMar's 'Stromata' today. Her song "Four Walls" came on, and I thought: My home has four walls, proverbially speaking. 4. My favorite number. And then I pictured the roof being gently lifted off my home and I floated above it, looking down and seeing the four outlines of the four walls, making an outline of a square and I realized--for maybe the first time consciously--that 4 has always been my favorite number because 4 is the number equivalent of the word, "Home." It represents blood and family and stromata. I don't know if this makes any sense whatsoever. But I've been feeling safer lately. Safe in a good way, not a stifling way. And I'm letting myself think silly thoughts and even liking them. I'm picturing kissing the men I have feelings for, letting myself really feel these thoughts rather than fighting them. I take them in and drink and digest them. On a final note, Karin gave me a lovely trinity of owls yesterday; their bodies fit together to make one giant tapestry, and their faces look both alien and haunted and Kabuki-like, and they create unity. Okay. "Four Walls" is playing again, this time in Surround Sound, and Karin and Mom are listening too. Time to dance, my friends -- both literally and proverbially.