A couple Mercury retrogrades ago, the little Trickster Messenger God (also known as Hermes, a third of the Homoerotic Trinity in Greek mythology) was in apparent–though illusionary–reverse motion in my 5th house (the house of sexuality and creativity.) The iTunes shuffle on my phone got stuck playing Prince’s “Erotic City.” No matter what I did to try and remedy the situation, every time I plugged my phone into my charger in my car I was greeted with “Erotic City.” I finally surrendered and listened to that song over and over for a week every time I drove. Could it have been any other way?
How can you not love someone who knew he was larger than life? Who knew he carried keys to the galaxies and dangled them in front of us? Who’s gender and sexuality were so fluid, as to spill sticky and vital and languid–all at once–onto the masses? Goodness, and I’m not even touching on the genius of his music. I’m just talking about being touched by a god.
When beings who are this large leave us, I feel we are all called to carry a part of the energy they so generously held for us while they were here. So, wear your freak, your funk, your purple planet rain a little louder, a little brighter. Will you? The world needs it.