free spiritedness is art alive

My Dad’s 2nd postmortem birthday was this week. I miss him dearly. He was such a light. In my heart, he still is.

In honor of his robust spirit & the way in which he continues to inspire me to live an energized life, I want to share a story with you. A story about music, artistry, & how embracing your free spirit - no matter what - is art alive.

When I was younger, music was prevalent in my house.

My parents tell me it’s because we didn’t have any money & we couldn’t go anywhere, because we couldn’t afford it.

They tell me this, but I can tell you I never noticed.

I never noticed that my house wasn’t abundant.

I never noticed that we ‘couldn’t go anywhere’.

I never noticed that there were things we couldn’t afford.

Nonetheless, rich or poor, there was music playing pretty consistently in my home growing up.

In high school, I remember frequently coming home to a house that was jamming. Most days, this fluctuated heavily, given my heavy sports, music & activities schedule. Yet, on days when I’d walk home as soon as school let out, I’d come within a few houses of our front door, & from down the street, I could already hear the bass.

As I approached, looking back now, I recall playing name that tune. I remember trying to figure out the melody, trying to guess what song was playing before walking up our front steps & opening that door. Whether I guessed or not, it didn’t matter.

What mattered was what would inevitably happen next.

I’d open the door & it would feel like all the music trapped inside the house would exhale & let it all out. That is, the energy of music would billow through that opened door, encapsulating my ears, & putting the energy of my body in a trance. Welcoming me with an embrace of whatever energy was influencing the musical selection playing on the inside.

And, whatever was playing inside of that house at that time of day would inevitably be the spirit of Dad.

Sure enough, I’d walk into the house, immediately singing along to whatever was playing. I’d drop my backpack & other school-related paraphernalia on the dining room table, where I’d inevitably find myself drilling away later at homework. Then, I’d leave everything behind & walk downstairs to Dad’s office to find him singing away while doing whatever he was doing.

That was our house.

Rich in energy.

Rich in music.

Rich in love.

At 40, it’s taken my whole life to realize what life music brought into the lives of those who lived in my home. Music, nearly every song I hear these days, seems to hold precious memory. Some songs, in just a few notes, can transport me into a moment in which I have an attachment to something important & meaningful in its recall.

No matter how much music was played & shared in our family, there are always those artists who carry special relationship. One song in particular stands out. One artist stands out. 

Darling Nikki by Prince.

If you don’t know this song, I feel a need to acknowledge it is explicit. The composition. The lyrics. The accompanying sounds. All supercharged, deep, & let’s call it ‘spicy’ in nature.

If you know Prince, however, without knowing the song, this description of his music probably makes sense.

Either way, you should know that for as strict as my parents were, they were also pretty cool. 

Pretty cool in the sense that they never shielded us from the existence of sexuality. 

They never prevented us from curse words. 

They never censored our viewership or listenership. 

C-double O-L, cool.

As a byproduct, what my parents watched… for the most part, we watched. What my parents listened to, we listened to. Right or wrong, it happened either way.

One time in particular, when I was about 12 or 13 years old, while waiting for Dad to pick me up from cheerleading practice, I heard a familiar sound. The sound of bass approaching. Except this time, I knew what it was, where it was coming from, & who.

It was Dad. Coming to pick me up from cheerleading practice. Driving our blue conversion van with all the windows open, his left arm casually hanging out the driver's side window, blaring, & loudly SINGING no less, Darling Nikki by Prince.

Again, if you don’t know this song, you should know that just the opening lyrics of the song are,

I knew a girl named Nikki. I guess you could say she was a sex fiend.

I met her in a hotel lobby masterbating with a magazine.

She said how’d you like to waste some time. 

And I could not resist, when I saw little Nikki grind.

EXPLICIT.

Coming from MY DAD!?

I WAS MORTIFIED.

None of the other parents arrived at pick-up singing loudly to sexually charged music.

None of the other parents seemed to listen to much of anything now that I think of it.

None of the other parents, I can honestly say, were like MY DAD. It would take me years to realize it. But, in that moment, I was embarrassed.

I couldn’t believe my Dad was listening to this song. Let alone listening to it while picking me up from cheerleading practice. And, casually enjoying it without a care in the World.

Dude, was unbothered.

I remember getting in the van. Immediately, turning the volume to silent. Looking at Dad, & saying, “DAaaaa-AAaaaaaDDaahh!”

He looked me right in the eyes.

Said, “Shannnnaaahhh, THIS is a great song!” 

I stared back at him, dead-on with bug eyes.

He laughed like he usually did when he knew he was lying or embarrassing. 

The smile, translated as if to say, get over it - this is happening. 

And then, without a blink. He laughingly said, “And, don’t touch my radio.”

He turned the volume right back up, pulled away & continued singing like nothing happened.

Like everyone else outside didn’t hear.

Like sexually explicit language wasn’t blaring from MY DAD’s radio.

Like he was singing ‘kumbaya’ when we both knew he wasn’t.

Like he couldn’t see I was trying to vanish the moment by melting into the passenger chair.

As I grew older, & continued to hear Darling Nikki several, if not innumerable times in life, my relationship with it changed.

I realized how amazing Prince is & was, thus, began to appreciate the full message & anthology of their artistry.

I realized how many explicit songs I like & enjoy blaring for their messages of transparent tenacity, too.

I realize now that my Dad was just a young guy who grew up shamelessly enjoying artistry. Except while I was growing through being embarrassed about who I was, he had already grown beyond embarrassment of himself. In fact, I’d wager that at the time, he had outgrown entirely being affected by what he’d call ’trivial’ or ‘nonsense’.

When Dad liked something, he did. Nothing anyone said was going to be allowed to change it. How he engaged it, IS how he felt about it. When he was convicted, he was & that was the end of it. 

I really miss that convicted, unbothered, audacious energy about him. 

I see now how much that energy was also alive in artists he loved, that I now do too, like Prince, Led Zeppelin, Fleetwood Mac, etc.

I understand now the cross-over between alive, free-spiritedness & why it makes sense to relate to it as art.

Dad, I assume, like Prince & other artists, don’t & didn’t feel sheepish about their expression & perspective. It is what it is. ‘Art for Art’s sake’… & all that.

I’ve learned to see Dad’s love of Art, as a love of life, & to respect it with the memory of him embarrassing me for blaring Darling Nikki. I’ve learned to see how cool it is to know that no matter what, my Dad was convicted of being who he was. And, he frankly wasn’t concerned with what anyone else thought about it, & how in that moment which MORTIFIED ME, he was teaching me the freedom in exercising, same. 

Not to be embarrassed about who I am.

Not to shy away from what I like or know.

Not to hide the wholeness of me & pretend like it isn’t its own expression of Art.

Dad, like art, was who he was. In a lot of instances, it translated as stubbornness & self-centeredness. I see now how a free person’s unattachments can challenge those trapped in theirs. 

Dad wasn’t trying to be stubborn or self-centered. Right or wrong, he just wanted to live his art. He was just being himself & the way he did it, was often a stark contrast to the way others preached & postured as ‘right’.

He didn’t change just because he became an adult.

He didn’t change just because he got married & had kids.

He didn’t change just because others thought he should.

He didn’t change just because who he was could be challenged.

Where, when & what with he felt abundant, he always seemed to be exercising feeling that way about it & to the fullest extent possible.

I think being full of joy, with it, & loud about it made what he enjoyed feel all the more rich. It’s how he respected things, I think. Enjoying ‘whatever’ in a way that made it a full experience of joy.

Enjoyment in a way that makes enjoying ‘whatever’ EVEN MORE enjoyable to experience. In fact, I’d bet that how fully he dared to experience things only added to how much more he was able to enjoy it. 

Loud, full & to its deepest intensity is how my parents taught us kids to enjoy music. It’s also the same way we were encouraged to live life.

Mindful about its experience through an abundant perspective.

Perceptive of the robustness available to us ALL through the exercise of living with a free spirit.

When I saw local NC Artist, Jen Hill, posted this Prince painting (see blog photo) for sale online, I knew I had to have it.

I knew I had to have it not only because my parent's admiration of Prince’s artistry inspired me to grow a fondness for it myself.

I knew I had to have it because it represented something much larger. Deeper. And, louder, for me.

It represents the intense love I have not only for music but for anything that I genuinely love. 

Rooted. Deep. Intentional. LOUD.

And, explicitly unapologetic for what it is, how it is related to & the impact it makes. 

Art represents the parts of me that feel challenged to be as BIG as I am.

As LOUD as I am.

AS BOLD & unapologetic as I am.

AS RICH, abundant, & energized as I am.

It represents the message I hold from my parents, encouraging me every day since I was a little girl to go all the way in life. 

No matter age.

No matter how it ‘looks’.

It represents claiming there are no limits to our expression, what we intend to enjoy, or how we enjoy it, as long as we safely enjoy it.

No matter the confusion.

No matter the judgment. 

It reminds me that anything fully enjoyed can make us feel rich & abundant when we learn to be unapologetic about how moved we are in our own experience with its art.

Life is art.

Art is life.

There are no rules - only those we attach ourselves to.

Thanks for celebrating Dad’s birthday with me!

I ‘dare’ you to give Darling Nikki a listen if you haven’t already via the link attached hereto.

May all our attachments be only with what echoes abundance, livens the spirit, & reflects our life’s artistry to set us free.

Be good to yourself. 💋

With Blessings,