To be sure, these are one of those times which try the souls of mankind.
We (I include myself) apparently have attack as the default reaction, especially when we sense that this time it is our ox who will be gored. Maybe threats to security trigger that old reptilian part of the brain: we cannot flee mostly, so we fight.
In all of that swirling slashing and parrying, I have come to love the thought and urging in this 19th Century poem:
Schlaeft ein Lied in allen Dingen,/There sleeps a song in all of being
Die da traeumen fort und fort/which slumbers, dreaming, nothing heard,
Und die Welt hebt an zu singen/And then the world rings out with singing,
Triffst du nur das Zauberwort./If you but touch the magic word.
Joseph Baron of Eichendorff, 19th Century German Nobelman, Government Administrator for Prussia and the quintessential German Romantic Poet