It's a good month for musical birthdays.  A creature of Western Romanticism, Franz Schubert, who, tragically, died at the age of 31, wrote some of the most ethereal and moving melodies of all time.  Listening to his music, we feel carried away, transported to another realm, lifted above what is earthly and material.  It's an intimation of transcendence. 

     As we celebrate Schubert's birthday today, we can remind ourselves that if music only told us what we already know, we probably wouldn't get as much out of it as we do.  We do not need to be reminded of what is normal.  We want to think about what is beyond normal, what breaks the apparent down, what splits the obvious apart.  We want to know what we, at the moment, cannot.
     Descending into the darkest recesses of his soul, Schubert talks to us about the deepest mysteries of existence, how we walk in a wisp, a gossamer veil stretched out between us and the other side of time.  He romanced eternity.
     As do we all.  Every day is a balance, an edge perched on the borders of presence and absence, a thin line of reality and ultimate destiny.
     Thanks, Franz Schubert, even if you didn't intend to do so, for showing us that life is more than life itself.  Happy birthday.