I was left gaping when I heard the news about David Bowie today. Like the rest of the world, I never saw it coming. The morning began in an unremarkable sort of way. I was up at the crack of down to work out and following that, I tinkered in the kitchen making some coffee and doing some dishes. Really, I don’t think it gets more mundane than that. I had gone upstairs to rouse the dogs so we could go out for a cold, morning stroll. My wife shared the news with me then and I didn’t believe her—not that she would make up something like this, but because it just didn’t compute. The sadness I experience when I realized what she was telling me came as no surprise and honestly left me reeling. I didn’t know what to do with the information and I’ll admit, I pushed it down so I could move again. I really still haven’t processed it. Bowie’s passing represents such a profound loss for the music community and for me on a personal level. For those who know me well, they know Bowie has played a huge part in my life. He has the greatest sort of inspiration and his music was often a place a solace during hard times. He loved what he did–in good and bad times. His approach at creating was uncompromising. He evolved over the years with sincerity, self-invention coming as naturally to him as stepping up to microphone. There was nothing manufactured about Bowie, not that I could ever perceive. That alone has been an inspiration. When I feel I’m ready to listen to his voice today–I’m nearly there, but not quite yet–I’m sure I feel the familiar sense of comfort, but along along with the sadness. And that’s just fine. The stars look very different today, indeed. Rest in peace, Bowie.

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