The calm returns, and sensing withdrawal the emotions surround her.
It’s the scene of a séance, and she isn’t sure whether they intend to intimidate or sacrifice her. If to sacrifice her, she wonders to whom the peace will benefit. While pondering the making of a martyr, she stops and scans them as they close in. It was the pondering they were hoping for.
They wanted her to begin asking The Illogical, like how many snowflakes the class needed to cut out to fix global warming? She chuckled out loud, and all at once, they took a step back.
“Martyrs are man-made, not self-made,” she whispered out loud. They stepped back once more.
Looking up at them from her seated position, she smiled while picking up her violin from the sand.
“Peace begins slowly and intentionally, like the brief rest between the plucking of violin strings. When this pattern of speed is broken, when there is no rest, and the strumming of peace continues to play, we’ve achieved mastery,” she said before playing them all to sleep.