The other day, I heard a musician talk about how Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata was composed, just before he played it.
It seems that Beethoven loved a woman he could not marry. The musician said it was a married woman -- turns out not to be so, but in any event, circumstances prevented them from marrying, and so he dedicated his next composition to her, transmuting his frustration and longing into something beautiful.
Call me dense, but I swear that it never occurred to me until that moment that other people had been where I was, and survived it.
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2 comments:
Sometimes we are so caught up in our own pain, grief, hurting (or what ever other negative feeling we are going through) it becomes hard to see anything but that. It's like nothing else is important, no one else can possible know what we are going through, no one else can feel the pain that we are feeling.
I think part of it is because we don't want someone to negate what we're feeling by saying 'I know how you feel' 'the same thing happened to me', because suddenly that changes our perspective, as until we're ready for that perspective to change we don't want to hear anything like that.
Spike/CfMn
C'mon, doctor, shouldn't you tell your public that the reason you can't marry the one you truly love is because a) there are three of them and b) you're already married to one of them? Not quite like Beethoven, eh, doctor?
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