In my very early morning drive to campus along the north edge of the Tennessee River the sun was rising behind me and the low clouds clinging to the tall mirrored downtown buildings looked surreal. "The Magic Flute" was playing on the radio. I had a waking dream: I saw my car turned over on a strip of land between the road and the river, wheels still spinning, some wisps of smoke. The radio's sound coming back into focus as the Queen of the Night was singing her great aria. Sickle moon reflected in the river's very slightly rippling waters. The music soars over the river. Then in the sudden silence after the Queen of the Night makes her plea there is a calm, an immense but ominous peace. Did this scenario cause or was it caused by my recalling an idea in Thomas Merton's "Confessions of a Guilty Bystander."
“To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is itself to succumb to the violence of our times. Frenzy destroys our inner capacity for peace."
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