I've been completely and successfully sober for 2 weeks now. My life is in transition, and for that reason, this piece (these pieces) have been stuck in my head today...specifically the transition from A Night on Bald Mountain to Ave Maria.
Probably the most beautiful, moving image I've ever seen is at minute 7:45, when Chernabog, defeated by the coming day, first curses and then accepts that defeat, his hands going limp; he wraps first his hands, then arms, then wings around himself at the coming of the day.
In my sobriety, spiritually, this is the stance that I take. A curse that I cannot drink. An acceptance that I cannot. An admittance of my powerlessness when it comes to alcohol. A self-protection. A cocooning.
I think that Intelligent Design is a load of crap, but if anything was going to convince me that there is a deity watching over us, it would be these pieces: that such a song as Mussorgsky's A Night on Bald Mountain should end on the same note that begins Schubert's Ave Marie.
(Yes, I know that has something to do with the particular orchestrations of the pieces, but don't bother me with the obvious when I'm having a moment. LOL)