Today marks David Bowie’s death on Jan 10th 2016 in Manhattan, NYC.

Death probably isn’t the right word, perhaps better is that he has transitioned into the next. He has stepped through the door and peculiarly floated away. He lives on in our hearts and his work will inspire others long after. We can no longer think of  Bowie progressing or changing as his work is now complete and wrapped in Blackstar. 

The stars seem a little different now. Perhaps they change as we realize there are far more people on the other side than the immediate concerns holding us here.   

Yes, “… all the fat-skinny people, and all the tall-short people, and all the nobody people, and all the somebody people. I never thought I'd need so many people.” 

Personally, I never thought I needed so many people. This post is my confession, “I need you”. It is your ticket for admission into my life. If you say run, I’ll run with you. Shall we dance? 

Bowie’s gift was given to me by a close friend. Isn’t it always that way?

Life is hand to hand, eye to eye and heart to heart. The sharing of life’s joy, terror, fear, laughter, tears, confession and comfort pulls us together in a way which death cannot separate. I’ve missed much of this life as I have been in my own confined space that had no room for others. I’m willing to leave this capsule and I’m stepping through the door. Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Mark. Hey, Sailor. 

I identify most with “The Man Who Sold The World”. I envision myself encountering my former and future self upon the stair, we talk of was and when and although I wasn’t there, he said I was his friend. The truth is that I have wandered through the inner wasteland lost in my own self missing out on the family, friendships and experiences swirling around me. Yes, I look into his eyes, they are the eyes of my father, “I thought you died alone, a long long time ago” … “Oh, no, not me” he smiles, “you’re face to face with the man who sold the world”. Was he the man who sold my world? ‘Twas by grace that I was turned to face me, with my Father’s hand upon my shoulder, I took a good long look at the faker and finally stopped running away. 

Share your experiences with us. Email us with your favorite song, your memories, your thoughts and stories and we will integrate them into our story.    blogs@globorojo.net

                       Thanks for being here,      Mark