been gone 17 days, and 17 long nights
never gonna let the elevator break me down, oh no let’s go!
The grief feels similar to when my mom died. Not as fully devastating, not so close to the bone, not as deeply cellular, but still devastating, close to the bone, and cellular.
The grief, the loss feels like September 11th. The community experience of it. The horrible loss.The what is happening. I think of Prince and all of the aspects of what I have come to know as Prince: the friend that turned me onto Prince, the college friends that I got to turn onto Prince, everyone that was at the Spectrum with me that night he sang Purple Rain to each and everyone of us. The world wide grief, denial, horror, sadness. Loss.
The morning Prince was in that elevator, I was doing an intense third series, he slipped away while I was practicing.
I need a nap after third. When I woke from my nap my inbox was jammed with Prince videos sent from my sister. I thought how sweet, Sissy knows I love Prince. I watched the actual Purple Rain Super Bowl video and re-fell in love with Prince for the kajillionth time.
And then the fucking news was there.
The dead news.
The next day I did a primary series on my purple mat. I could not handle the backbends. the arm balances. I needed to stay close to the ground. And I needed my purple mat.
Then a few days of the first half of second on my purple mat.
The reality of the situation was setting in, this was not a hoax, this was not not a publicity stunt. Prince was dead. I needed few days of 5 A & 5 Bs and a long closing.
17 days pass.
Today I returned to some practice of third series, first go since Prince’s passing.
Let’s go crazy. let’s get nuts!
For these past 17 days I have practiced on my purple mat.
The exclusivity of my purple mat is a small tribute I can make to Prince.
I miss the Artist formerly & always known as Prince.
My purple mat somehow holds Prince close to me.
I blog about yoga.
I do what I can.
I do yoga.
I do yoga on a purple mat.