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paulehendricks-blog · 9 years ago

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The Modern Mystic

Many tears were shed yesterday. I cried, too. As soon as I heard that emergency services were at Paisley Park responding to a dead body, my heart sank. A short time later, what I feared, and everyone feared, was true. Prince Rogers Nelson was dead. As soon as I put my fingers on the small keyboard of my iPhone, tears ran down my cheek. While experiencing the emotions, I simultaneously wondered why.

“Why am I crying?”

I don’t really get caught up in celebrity deaths. That’s not entirely true. I shed a tear when Sinatra died. I did the same for Johnny Cash and Kurt Vonnegut. I felt like crying when Lemmy Kilmister recently passed, but thought it would be a dishonor. Instead, I drank a Jack and Coke. That seemed like a proper tribute.

Yesterday was different, however. I did more than shed a tear. I cried. Like snot-coming-out-of-my-nose crying. And shared my heartache with my wife and some friends. I wasn’t alone. It seems that thousands upon thousands of people throughout the U.S. (and the world) were crying with me. That was somewhat comforting.

As a writer, teacher, facilitator, day-dreamer, bar stool philosopher, and curious human, I had to ask myself why this particular death was affecting me in such a profound way. Generally, I’m an amazing observer. I observe everything around me with the thought that maybe it will be something interesting to write or talk about. In this instance, I wasn’t merely observing, I was part of the phenomenon.

I remember being around ten or eleven years old when my brother and I were listening to the new stereo my father had purchased. Each part sat on its own glass shelve. That particular day my brother, Brian, was showing me how to record music off of the radio using a cassette tape. The first song we recorded was, “You Dropped a Bomb on Me,” by The Gap Band. After the song was over, we rewound the tape to make sure we got the whole song. I remember thinking it was some kind of miracle. We listened to it a few times before turning the little dial back to FM so we would be prepared for the next song we wanted to record.

The DJ announced that after the commercial, he would be playing Prince. I had to no idea who Prince was, but Brian was excited. He got prepared during the commercial and pushed the record (and play?) button down as soon as the DJ was back on the air. He seemed agitated as the DJ kept rambling on about some event happening in Cleveland. I think my brother was worried about running out of tape, which wasn’t going to happen. Finally, the drums and synthesizer began playing. My brother told me to pay attention, which was unnecessary because I couldn’t pay more attention than I already was.

“I guess I should of known By the way you parked your car sideways That it wouldn't last See you're the kinda person That believes in makin' out once Love 'em and leave 'em fast”

I was hooked! Immediately I began looking around to see if either one of our parents were near. Not fully understanding what I was listening to, it felt like I shouldn’t be listening to this. At the same time, it appealed to something naughty inside of me, even if I didn’t understand why. This dude was talking about horses and trojans and things I just didn’t understand. But I liked it. That day a love affair between me and Prince’s music began.

A few years later when I was in high school, Sunday nights were the night to go to Spanky’s, where it was teen night. Like any place teenagers attended, one would find kids drinking in their cars in the parking lot, fights breaking out, and most noticeably, different cliques of teens claiming their quadrants inside the club. I hung out in the punk quadrant which was the left side of the club close to the stage. The music that was being played dictated what group took ownership of the dance floor. My group was out there for all The Cure songs, New Order, Information Society, and the like. There was some bleeding between groups when AC/DC was played or a popular hip hop song. But mostly groups stuck together.

That is until Prince would come on. For some reason, each group claimed Prince as one of their own, including us. If Purple Rain, Let’s Go Crazy, When Doves Cry, or Little Red Corvette began playing over the sound system, there was a race to the dance floor. Somehow, Prince broke up the cliques, allowing everyone the opportunity to shake their asses to his songs.

I found the same thing while living in Germany, Cleveland, New York, Washington DC, Oklahoma, Hawaii, and here in Texas. No matter the difference in culture, religion, musical taste, skin color, or anything else, everybody seems to love Prince.

I think that’s because Prince was a modern mystic, like Rumi. Prince followed his passion and lived it without apologies. Rather, he lived it with vigor and enthusiasm. His music didn’t necessarily speak to our humanity, but to our spirit; that spirit that has no cage, no limitations, and is absolutely free. He spoke to who we really are, without the titles, names, and classifications we have given each other. Price lived outside the normal social paradigm, where creativity is celebrated and lifted with the one hand only to be swatted down by the other. It’s like he created art in a different dimension and fed it to those living inside the current one, nourishing everyone’s soul with beautiful truths that we all somehow know, but have forgotten.

Prince comes up frequently in our house. A few years ago, when I was wrapped up in doubt about being a writer, asking if I had made a mistake and should abandon my dreams for something more stable, my wife brought up Prince. We began a game of imagining Prince in different professions. Imagine Prince as a pizza delivery guy, working at a hardware store, as an accountant... Although a fun exercise, it was almost impossible to see Prince and anything but Prince, the flamboyant, incredibly talented artist who annihilated genres. It didn’t seem like Prince ever doubted who he was or was ever afraid to become who he wanted to be. That’s courage. That’s confidence. I want more of that for me.

And perhaps that’s why so many of us were moved yesterday. Not so much because Prince died, but because of how he lived. Because he showed us through his music and beingness that we, too, are much more than we think we are. We also have a calling. And Prince is a great example of what following one’s calling looks like. And I’m sad he’s gone. My world would never have been the same without Prince in it. For that, I’m eternally grateful.

#prince #prose #death #life #gratitude #music

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paulehendricks-blog · 9 years ago

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