As might have been expected, musing about my need for harmony and beauty seemed to elicit, over the weekend, kind of a "this is your life" inner video of a number of places and situations that haven't been harmonious and beautiful to me in the past. But it may also have helped me open to new forms of beauty. I was walking on a sidewalk and looked down to see what I initially thought was a dead butterfly, only it turned out to be a strange, filigreed piece of bark with a large "eye" on it. I picked it up and will keep it. This natural relic is hauntingly beautiful, and I might not have noticed it in the past.
But thinking about harmony also elicited a new metaphor. I haven't been very metaphorical in the last month or so, since my re-birth/move, so here goes: What if we thought of humanity as a huge choir? We are all sending out a song, that is for sure. To make the image more manageable, I thought, why not whittle down seven billion people to seventy, a large choir of all backgrounds, ages, genders, religions and musical abilities. I'm not sure what song would be sung in that circumstance, but let's say a brilliant conductor has brought everyone together and we know our parts, which are simple and beautiful. Despite everyone's best intentions, you can perhaps imagine a situation where some of the singers might get into a disagreement, even a violent fight. Others might join the melee. Some singers might stop singing to try to pull apart the combatants, others might help people who get hurt, others might lecture those who had resorted to violence. Some might protest the disruption or try to stop the rehearsal, others might pull out their cell phones to photograph or communicate the situation to the outside world, and others might simply walk out.
Is there one "correct" response to violence? Maybe not. And conflict may not be eradicated for generations to come. But I know myself well enough to know what role I would play as this rehearsal started to spiral out of control: I'd keep singing. I'd try to keep the music going. I'd try to keep my voice in harmony with at least a few other people, as long as the conductor was still up there conducting. On the days when I feel overwhelmed by our world's chaotic vocalizations, I try to remind myself, just keep singing your part, Liz. Just keep singing your part.
