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Beethoven's Ninth Symphony


It has been called the greatest audio entity one 
could ever listen to; a song which can pierce the soul of 
even the most dedicated music-hater: Beethoven's Ninth
Symphony. Not only has it been designated thus; also, as 
one of the few truly divinely inspired works, one which most 
men can only marvel at, as they wallow in their appropriate 
humility. These creations, however, are definitely not the 
only aspects of entities beyond the scopes of men; there are 
far more examples, which are seen every day, but often 
 I was walking outside, with this song echoing in the 
recesses of my mind, on a dismal, overcast day in the 
Autumnal quarter, a day when where the streets blended with 
the atmosphere, when one could hardly look up without 
feeling the singe of the wind against one's face. To me, 
these days have always conjured up images of some distant, 
looming storm, some silent tempest which, if not otherwise 
distracted will soon wreak mayhem and disaster on my 
 This day had an intense air about it, as do others 
of its ilk. This is most likely the fault of the storm 
under which it is shadowed, as though it and its inhabitants 
are uneasy and harrowed about the imminent predator waiting
overhead to pounce. 
 As the sky overhead swam with deeper and deeper 
shades of gray and hopeless black, the song in my mind was 
reaching some vocal crescendo in the fourth movement, a 
better foreteller of the gale I could not imagine. While 
the winds bullied and tormented the defenseless 
neighborhood, I started for my house.
 Unexpectedly, as the crescendo was losing speed, a 
quiet, pacific violin entered the musical fray in my brain, 
and the entire mood of the symphony mellowed, the winds 
themselves pacified, seemingly under Ludwig's fickle
dominion. Thinking the storm had passed, I continued 
blissfully onward to the meadows which were my destination.
 Again I was assaulted, this time by a different part 
of the symphony; not too long after the first chorale. This 
was the startling and almost fearful, but still uplifting, 
part in which the female and male vocals collided like two 
huge tidal waves with the power to splinter a fleet of ships 
with the German Alle Menschen repeated several times. Upon 
this onslaught of euphony, I turned from whatever I might 
have been thinking before, and looked at some violently 
twisting and rising leaves and other debris, and gazed at 
the playful heavens, again ominous.
 Annoyed with Beethoven and the cruel elements, I 
stood there, unmoving; indecisive, not knowing whether to 
turn around or pursue my present course, I felt the excited 
chorale still striking some unknown and inexplicable fear 
within me, as though some divine creature were about to 
strike me down in some vehemence which lies well beyond the 
realms of verbal description. So, as the chorus continued 
repeating its faithful mantra, the winds again rose up 
stronger than before, as twigs began to snap and fall about 
me; I was still, yet deeply moved.
 Perplexed at the whimsy antics of nature, I was 
about to retreat to my home, when, in the remarkable 
symphony, a single male vocal broke through the complicated 
entanglement of godly voices, and I, despite the protests of 
my superego, decided to continue on with some alien, renewed 
vigor against the gusty weather, as though I were the bearer 
of news about the winner of a war or some other momentous 
aftermath. At this, as though impressed with my display
of singular determination, the wind made itself placid, 
laying down before me.
 Violins were heard, along with the driving, male 
voice. Suddenly, completely without warning and all at once, 
what seemed like throngs of angelic, female voices sang as 
though sent on an appeal to God on the eve of apocalypse. 
They continued, soon joined by male voices, and other 
instruments, in the most spiritual and epiphytic 
reverberation I've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, and, 
seemingly, all in my favor, against cruel and remorseless 
nature, pleading to let me pass. I, however, felt like only 
a petty bystander in this competition between the symphony 
and the elements, completely unable to comprehend, let alone 
justify either side's wish, only able to observe the outcome
and obey it as the gospel that I knew it was.
 Thus, whether or not I ever achieved my destination 
is beside the point. My sojourn in that small neighborhood 
taught me perhaps what is life's most important lesson. 
This lesson is clear: there are many things in this world
completely beyond most men's small intellects. They may 
manifest themselves in certain artworks, novels, or musical 
masterworks; however, these manifestations only serve as 
reminders to arrogant man. While it is true that these
manifestations are created by singular members of the 
selfsame race, these members serve only as conduits of a 
greater, nearly incomprehensible power; something which 
they, themselves, may often forget. 



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