Where the music never ends

My soul starved for beauty after a week crammed full of cranky classes and mindless meetings, so I lugged myself, body and soul, to the college choir concert Friday night. About halfway through the choir sang a soothing lullaby that drained the anguish and tension from my being and lulled me into serenity--but then, as the final note dissipated into nothing and the director began to lower his arms, some dimwit's cellphone rang.

And it wasn't a quiet ring, either, but a shattering jangle of obnoxious inanity.

I saw the choir director's neck tense up and knew what he was thinking: Ruined! All that beauty drowned out, overshadowed, deleted, stomped into the mud, ruined ruined ruined!

And to tell the truth, I would have been angry too. Everyone had been asked to turn off their phones, but all it takes is one scofflaw to ruin it for everyone. That's why we can't have nice things!

But you know, it wasn't really ruined. Over time I'll forget about the ringing cell phone, but I won't forget the music that transported me beyond the clanging inanities of life into a realm of pure serenity.

It's still out there, that music, still singing through the wind, and it's still in here sweeping out my soul. Hush! Be still! Maybe you can hear it too.