Last night I read of one of Beethoven’s last symphonies. It was written at the time he was totally deaf. Deaf as in no hearing. I read of how before he went totally deaf he wrote a letter to his brothers of his despair. Total despair. A man, a genius filled with so much music inside him and unable to hear. He wrote of ending his life. The letter was never mailed. Instead, the letter was tucked away and he began to write the most amazing symphonies. The last one, Ode to Joy is sung this time of year. Amazing to hear the intimate and conflicted soft and blaring chords. Some seem so loud it is almost as if he was trying to make it loud enough to hear. The triumphant booming chords drop off like a jumper off a cliff into such silence.

I read and re-read the story listening to Ode of Joy. I confess my heart quivered to ponder how he could write such complex and intricate music and never hear a single note. Then I bowed my head as the whisper nudge me. He could hear. Oh yes, he could hear. I was listening with ears. He created with the heart and heard every note.  I who see so differently than others should know. I do.

One more bow of my head, hands to my heart, and with the music reaching peaks and falling into valleys I quietly prayed, “Play me. Let me live fearlessly with the ears of love.”

Ode to Joy – may we be deaf enough to hear. https://youtu.be/BVL7gLwzct0