Inner Acropolis copyright 1976 by Tracy Marks From atop the Acropolis at night, I hear the bouzouki and rock and roll music from a dozen tavernas blend into a cacophony of noise. The notes may be harmonious on street level, but merged, they are discordant. Only for a moment is one strain of music discernible before it is lost again in the pandemonium. How like the many selves within me, I think, each competing for attention, pulling me one way and another without concern for my overall unity. What a racket they make; how their continual clamor prevents me from pursuing a single course of action or even choosing a goal which takes all parts of myself into consideration. And as I listen, I renew my desire to make peace with all the disparate parts of myself, to build an inner center where they can learn to cooperate. Only in an Acropolis perched above the din of my inner city can I become familiar enough with the range of each of their instruments to learn to conduct the inner orchestra, to transform discord into harmony.

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