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When Doves Cry

When Doves Cry

I awoke in the morning, and made a Prince playlist, practicing yoga for over two hours.  It was a yoga, dance, cry-fest honestly.

And I know I’m not the only one.  It’s like being in a semi-zombie state amidst all the other things I experience in my daily life.  It feels like a vacillation between dimensions and lifetimes.  I sit quietly for a bit – reveling in my beautiful life with such gratitude.  And then in a moment, I go back in time to what seems like another life.

How did I get here? A “troubled teen”, to here.  Here of all places, in Marin County, teaching yoga … from Detroit.  I am blessed beyond words, beyond measure; I am in the thick of magic in motion honestly.  And in this, I still remember days blaring Prince from my record player, holed up in my bedroom smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window.  So vivid the memory:  driving in my boyfriend’s MGB convertible, jamming Prince with the top down, headed somewhere to get high.

Prince was such a huge part of my drama, my story, my mistakes, my love for music, my first experience with sex, my teenage search for what was resonate, and my personal search for Self.  At the time, I had no idea how to access that gateway to Self…. So I listened to Prince, trying to make sense of it all.

He was a breath of femininity in a masculine dominated rock/pop culture.  He had more sex appeal in one curl of his hair than any other rock star of our time.  He brought us to our knees, yearning, for one moment to be on the back of that bike, hair blowing in the wind with the Shiva of pop music.  And God, I don't even want to put him in THAT box of POP MUSIC!  The man traversed genres like we scroll through Instagram!

His way of being, had me mesmerized.   He defined sexuality, sensuality, musical creativity, freedom and love, in such a bad-ass way that no one had ever done in my realm of mentors/teachers … I was infatuated. 

He made me feel safe to writhe along with his erotic lyrics and alluring dance moves, sweating and crying while he was signing.  Each composition and performance, a channel, a download directly from the Divine into the heart of the world Mother; a call out to awaken every Priestess on the planet.  A call to heal the imbalance of Shiva and Shakti. 

He sang the first call I ever heard and had no idea what to do with the information. 
Now I know.

He got us all at such a ripe, young innocent age.  When we knew what we knew, but had no idea how to express it.  We all felt that pulse in our hearts and heat between our thighs every time he hit the stage.

And now, at 47 years old, I can’t seem to pull myself away from the incessant videos, old footage, photos, and songs I am scrambling to put together for an appropriate playlist. 

What the hell is an appropriate playlist anyway?  How can I even begin to capture that - not possible.  But I’m going to try.  

So fitting that he chose to leave his body on the Full Moon in Scorpio with four planets, almost five in retrograde.  The planets that are all about fire, the underworld, communication and love.  Ironic isn't it?

I know every word to every song he ever made!  I know exactly when he hit the high notes and sank to his knees on stage.  I’ve watched video after video after video and yet, I didn’t make it to his Piano and a Microphone Concert when he was right here, just across the bridge from me in the Bay. 

Heartbroken …

This, I realized today, is one of the reasons I am so heartbroken.  I don’t regret much; but this, this I regret because it was so unlike me to not take the opportunity. 

But it gave me a gentle nudge and reminder …

Do epic shit now. Don’t wait. Don’t put things off because
you don’t have the time or the money.  That’s a lie.  You do. 
Make love like it’s the last time you will feel that intimate in your life. 
Kiss with a longing for more ... embrace while you sleep.
Live your life with uninhibited passion and purpose and don’t take no for an answer.
Don’t play small and stop settling for mediocre. 
Don’t not do something because you're afraid of what people might think. 
Who cares?

Really, who cares.

I’ve been crying and dancing but not crying for him; or even for his passing.  No, I cried selfishly … for everything he represented to me:

My sensuality, my deep connection to the Feminine,
my ability to feel and not numb,
and my truth beyond what I was taught.  
He represented the moment I began to embrace the essence of what it meant to be a Dakini. 
He woke a lot of us women up before we were ready; but here we are now – poised and ready. And if you’re not doing your thing – ain’t no excuse now sister. 

This is what it must sound like when Doves Cry …

Rest in Peace lovely angel. 


By Dana Damara

“My passion on the mat is proper alignment, powerful breath and effortless flow so you feel that off your mat. Your practice becomes sacred space where you arrive to find more meaning, depth, authenticity and integrity in your life." - Dana Damara: mother, author, yoga instructor, speaker and yogini.

Click here to download or stream one of Dana's YogaDownload classes! 



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