We've lost those we've never heard of and those we worshipped from afar. The famous and the infamous. Those whose poetry and music and performances and stories and athletic prowess and acts of heroism and sacrifice we admired. We counted on them to help us get through the trials and tribulations of our lives.
What is it about the loss of childhood figures and teenage icons that seems to rock us to our core? It struck me that these memories from our past, brought up by the untimely passing of our idols, finds us transported back to a place and time before all of the real, hard to process sadness was let in; a time before grab em by the pussy, before nightclub shootings, and school shootings, and so many shootings.
As a pain psychologist, I share patients' concerns about limiting opioids without providing access to alternatives. Ethical pain care should emphasize first the programs and initiatives that empower individuals to best control their own pain. When people are equipped to help themselves feel better, they need fewer doctors and treatments.
What truly sets Prince's estate apart from most deceased musicians is what he left behind: a personal vault of 2000 works of unreleased music. To put it in perspective, there is enough music to release one album every year for the next century. I know what you're thinking: What will happen to all of this music, and will we ever hear it?
Did Prince write Musicology here? Or Xpectation or N.E.W.S.? If you have the almost $13-million price tag on hand, you can share in the space of creative genius. He had to have written and been inspired in this Bridle Path home, as Prince was a voracious writing force that produced albums almost annually and also wrote hits for others. In fact, I think we can expect a huge library of his unreleased hits in the coming years.