Death doesn’t scare me, though it has confused and saddened me. Mostly I accept death as a part of our journey as humans.
And then David Bowie died.
For a myriad of reasons I’ve been shook up by Bowie’s death. He was the consummate artist, the iconic wizard of change, the mythical leader of the shape-shifters, the creative cosmic catalyst, the sexy bisexual bedfellow, a father, a husband, a lover, a musician, an actor, a performer, a writer, a producer, and the list goes on ad infinitum. He was open to new ideas, explored multiple possibilities with ease, worked with the very best and never lost sight of his vision as a visionary.
His lyrics and soul full singing comforted, inspired and provoked me. I saw him as a fearless fiery spokesperson for freaks. Now today in my search for artistic freedom, I find myself bound by my own limited thinking wishing I could have an ounce of his courageous spirit to guide me.
Bowie offered us great art until his last breath. He may have left his body but his work remains in our hearts, minds, lexicon. May the winds of change always remind us of his omnipresent gifts.