My psychology-loving self has been wondering why the death of Ozzy is hitting so hard.
I never saw him perform live. I didn’t listen to his music very often. But when I did, the fiery passion in his voice backed up my own thunder; granting me permission to radiate a range of emotions by screaming songs I felt in my bones.
I found freedom to unleash stuck energy in a way that aroused me to be deliriously loud.
We’re taught to behave; not act like animals; be civilized.
We’re conditioned to hide traumas, bury inconveniences and deny the realness of struggle.
Ozzy broke down barriers like no other with his outrageous presence. He was considered crazy, controversial, reckless and rebellious but so fucking iconic.
He was a fellow Sagittarius who lived life to the fullest; an ultimate inspiration in doing whatever the fuck you want.
I respect the bravery, even if laced with insanity, of pushing the limits and breaking out of constraints that society builds around us.
Ozzy was also expressive, profoundly talented, comedic, honest, entertaining, resilient, authentic, vulnerable, misunderstood and extraordinarily unique.
With unfiltered self-awareness, he had a daring yet liberated masculine spirit that empowered others to live free with inescapable damage and beautiful chaos.
Wholly unapologetic in his imperfect self.
An influential force of nature.
An archetype of rock.
I remember hearing Ozzy blasting from scary rides at the state fair when I was in grade school. I felt the power in his music back then, with the smell of corndogs and cotton candy wafting in the air.
I heard he bit the head off a bat and snorted a line of ants. What a bad ass, I once thought. He assumed the bat was a toy when someone threw it on stage during one of his concerts. He needed painful rabies shots for weeks.
I never suspected the singer had deep feelings. Initial perceptions can be so wrong.
Ozzy put his dualities on display without shame.
Denying nothing, he owned it all with rare accountability. I find that so sexy.
From living on the edge head-banging to finding gratitude in the mundane, he invited us to embrace the unrestrained wild we all carry inside us; allowing us to feel less alone in our imperfections.
“Broken doesn’t mean weak and darkness doesn’t mean evil.”
I admire non-conformity, even when perceived as deranged, destructive or dysfunctional.
There’s something comforting in the madness.
Letting loose and breaking free from expectations, judgments and labels to allow ourselves moments of uninhibited or unconventional behavior relieves the unavoidable tension of being human.
Occasionally “going off the rails on a crazy train” can be an outlet for pent-up stress. A little reckless abandon helps us discover new perspectives and solutions. Why the fuck not?
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I often prefer chill, Sanskrit chants. But the past week I’ve been listening to Ozzy again very loud in my car, singing lyrics I remember well from my youth. I’m surprised by how many songs have magically stirred up present sensations and those of the past.
Ozzy offered a direct line to complex feelings with encouragement to have some fucking fun.
I didn’t realize how therapeutic his gifts were and how much they have touched me.
Hearing him sing has been a medicine I didn’t know I needed.
He gave us an opportunity to vent through our voices; to celebrate the light and the dark; to acknowledge both the blessing and the curse of aging.
I am so grateful for Ozzy’s music, his hilarious public persona, and how his sorrowful passing has triggered memories and a sense of connection.
I can meditate, practice yoga, eat my kale and also rock out.
Perhaps he helped teach the gift of balance; blending debauchery with humility for growth and healing; to understand and accept the inner demons that torture us while forgiving how we choose to process or avoid.
Owning flaws is so beautiful.
Aren’t we all doing our best?
The “conductor of mayhem” (as Ozzy described himself once) not only transformed the music industry, but personally influenced so many of us around the world with who he was in all his messiness.
I’m reminded of the range of qualities in archetypes. The compassionate Tara to the fierce Kali. Ozzy’s songs, voice and enduring character invite the dark goddess to come forth in me. I’m encouraged to show my teeth; to not be ashamed of turmoil but to use it as fuel for raw self-expression.
Ozzy had the ability to channel hardship into music that resonated with millions.
Photo-Bill Tompkins/Getty Images
The “Prince of Darkness” shaped the culture of rock. His artistry, humor and ability to connect with fans was a guiding force through my own Gen X journey.
To have touched so many lives spanning over five decades, and to have done what he loved till his last days, to me, is incredibly inspiring.
Ozzy’s daughter Kelly said, “He’s the most irresistible madman you will ever meet in your life.”
His son, Jack, said, “His contributions have been far greater than any of his faults.”
His wife, Sharon, said he was the most romantic man she had ever met.
I can’t stop watching him online. He has infiltrated my algorithm and I’m loving every minute of it.
Witnessing global support, love and kindness dissolves the notion of separateness. Maybe we can all alchemize pain into creation. “Maybe it’s not too late to learn how to love and forget how to hate.”
It’s interesting to notice just how captivated I’ve become—and how profoundly moving his timeless songs still are.
What a fucking legend!
I’m also just a dreamer. I keep dreaming my life away.
Somehow I feel a little more seen, a little safer and more secure in my humanness.
I never knew how much I loved him till he was gone.
Isn’t that how it goes?
Thanks for being rad, you crazy bastard! See you on the other side.
“I’m not the devil people make me out to be. I’ve always been the guy that wants to make people laugh, headbang and forget their problems–at least for a while.” ~Ozzy Osbourne
