Life Without Chris Cornell

Fantasies are not lies unless we live them too deeply
or, worse yet, "believe" in them, whatever that means...

All that we see,
(even our own self image),
is projections from our imagination
the boundary between what is "out there" and what is inside
is the thing least clear to me, after almost 50 years of life.

I am not sure that boundary even exists....

I was crushed by the news about Chris Cornell. I never knew the man, so how could I be sad that he was dead?

He had become one of those introjects that represent something core within us. I identified with him in a major way; he was a huge part of my inner rock star. He was also about living beyond that, surviving potential death, addiction, the grunge scene and moving on, to become a father, a sober and healthy man, something to aspire to...he meant alot of things to me, most of them good, about endurance, wisdom, and elevating your circumstances.

Chris Cornell, in my mind, was the colour of eloquent rage.

I found so much of myself in his lyrics, which gave expression to my anger and my righteous indignation at both life and myself.

His death threw all of that into question. Those parts of myself got got juxtaposed with harsh reality,  like road-kill on morning pavement...clearly this event "out there" had drawn attention to that boundary between my inner world and the outer one. Chris Cornell, the real man, was clearly something other than, or perhaps more correctly, more than, the Chris Cornell in my mind. And this was not all good.

I will stand up and say what no-one seems willing to say. Chris Cornell, if you killed yourself, I am angry at you...it was an aggressive and rage-full act and it created a disturbance in the Force.

I have been listening to alot of dead singers lately. C.C., Layne Staley, Scot Weiland, Shannon Hoon.
Thing is, none of them are dead for me. They are more alive, more current, and more relevant to me now than most of them were than when they were alive.

Given the choice between long life, family, happiness and eternal anonymity OR early death and eternal Hero status, young Achilles chose the latter, and without hesitation. What choice would you make? I know which side of that fence I sit on. Staring into my daughters' eyes confirms my wisdom.

So, Chris Cornell, in some very important ways, is not really dead to me. Those parts he fed are still feasting, in some ways more angrily and heartily than ever. It is up to my ego to absorb the dissonance and make of it what will....