tonight, a day or two after death

Bowie’s death.  Such a death. Here is a person – the first person, perhaps – who made a work of art out of his death.

When first I learned about Eleanora Dusa and about her long walk home after she played Juliet – a long, long walk down country streets to the house of her father – and how she knew knew knew she had to be in the theater after Juliet came through her that night.  Destiny.  But she married that second rate playwright and how she then dropped out of the theater for decades and how she read St. Augustine and the monolog that night in her kitchen for her friend and then about her death many years later upon contracting pneumonia while in the alley knocking and knocking on the locked Stage Door of a theater in Pittsburg.  Pittsburg!  Pneumonia!  Death!  Unplanned.  I felt that if you really look at it, each life is an art work.  Or a piece.  A story.  I thought it just happened that way – but that most of us are unconscious of our lives as works of art.  Bowie did it on purpose.  Bowie furthered it into consciousness … he “did” death.

You think about these things as you get older.  Death is the final scene of life.  Art.  Thank you Bowie.  You give the world so much with death.  Such a teacher.  We love you so much.  So much have you increased love on earth.

Comments
  • Brad
    Reply

    Soren, great piece……I loved David Bowie…..What a tragic loss and at such a young age. He left behind a great body of work for us to all enjoy far into the future.

    Love you,

    Brad

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