On a Loftier Love

Beethoven composed his Opus 90 Sonata in the year of 1814, during which I speculate he would be surviving the aftermath of his torrid love affair of 1812: his Immortal Beloved. In this late sonata, we hear all the thunder and ferocity of unrequited love. Especially glorious is the second movement with its serene nostalgia.

I don't understand. What is an Immortal Beloved?

Such a question is vastly troubling, for after some consideration, this question only suggests a very pessimistic outlook: Does Immortal Beloved even exist? For it is so rare, so precious, that surely it can only be an Ideal.

I can only imagine that this kind of love is born with the purest intentions. The two should converse with like-minded intellects and fuel each other's passions. They giggle exuberantly over silly anecdotes, yet endlessly debate the weightiest questions of existence. They support and defend each other's character; together they are valid, they are each other's validation. They are so humbly moved by each other. They share a connection deeper than time, and as familiar as the scent of our mother. They are strangely similar creatures, inexplicably drawn together.

But further, their love is bound by eternity. This is what baffles me. That despite earthly circumstance -- time, distance, for instance -- they continue to love. That even if they betrayed each other, were stripped naked and left undignified, they still painfully and necessarily continue to love. And this kind of union is only joined by the heavens.

Most certainly, Beethoven understood something far beyond my comprehension in his Opus 90.