Ground Control to Major Tom
When I first saw the news in the wee hours of yesterday morning that David Bowie had died far too young by a terrible disease, I cursed as my gut twisted, and I tried to wrestle myself back to sleep.
When I first saw his last gift to us mere mortals in his music video 'Lazarus', I didn't feel like cursing and crying anymore, I felt profound awe that a man would share the intimate experience of death with the world in such a bold and vulnerable way. A groundbreaking artist to the end- It was just so damned Bowie.
The baby and I spent the rest of the day getting her all taught up on Goblin King by watching all of his insanely crazy work that spans more than 4 decades of humanity, and we danced our pants off in the living room of our pioneer house to Fame and The Jean Genie and of course Let's Dance.
I can bring myself to feel anger about cancer being what it is, but I can't bring myself to feel sadness about David Bowie's death. He was always so otherworldly that this just feels like a natural segue into immortality, and there is something really powerful about that to me as I grapple with my own circle of life and legacy. It's weird, but I feel like David Bowie's death has taught me more about my feelings on the afterlife than twenty years of Sunday School ever did.
I also wrote this little tribute diddy on Horse Nation last night, and I've been shocked at how well it's been received. Apparently I wasn't the only horse person who felt this way about David Bowie. One of the comments we got was 'So many good tributes. Astronauts, now equestrians!' And it's true. Even though as far as I can tell, David Bowie never came near a horse, he was one of us, because he was a little bit crazy, and we get that. He knows what it means to be a little left of mainstream, to see beauty where others might miss it, and certainly that life ought to have a little more pomp and circumstance.
Basically, if you're doing life like David Bowie, you're doing it right.