A Love So Bright Inside You It Glows: Love Letters to Minneapolis

Image: Jason Bailey, “In Honor of Prince,” 2020

"A love so bright inside you it glows"

— Still Would Stand All Time, Prince, 1988

Like everyone in the worldwide Prince community, I'm holding Minneapolis especially close in my heart these days. It's distressing to see familiar streets in headlines with tragic news, to read of the impossible stress people are living with daily. Yet, witnessing the response and resilience of the people of Minneapolis, out in the streets, supporting neighbors, even in the depth of deepest winter, gives so many of us everywhere hope and draws such deep respect. It’s extraordinary, painful and deeply moving to witness from afar.

Beloved Vietnamese Buddhist monk and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh shared a beautiful teaching that seems apt for these times when we want to help but don’t always know how. In his book Silence, he writes: “The most precious thing we can give one another is our presence, which contributes to the collective energy of mindfulness and peace. We can sit for those who can’t sit, walk for those who can’t walk. And create peace and stillness within us for people who have no stillness or peace."

In the wake of recent violence and community trauma, Minneapolis needs to feel the worldwide purple community surrounding them with love. 

What I know about Minnesotans: I know you stand strong for what you believe in, and show up for those you care about. And I know you welcome strangers.

For all Prince fans who've visited Minneapolis, we know firsthand the warmth and generosity of this city. We've experienced this welcome again and again whenever we've visited to honor Prince. 

How Prince's Minneapolis Changed My Life

When Prince died, I went to Minneapolis on pilgrimage, like so many others. I did an excessive amount of research in my hazy state of mourning, then sweated and shivered through various seasons as I schlepped around the city without a car, clueless, determined to follow Prince's trajectory. Despite my sincere and slightly ridiculous efforts to seek Prince out in the pathways of his life, I couldn't find him anywhere. Not in the houses, studios, schools, churches. Not even at Paisley Park — he felt long gone to me.

But it was in Minneapolis I met those who would become my dearest friends all these years later. I arrived solo but I was rarely alone after that. Kind strangers gave me rides, shared Prince stories in the street, took me on secret tours of special Prince places, insisted on driving me out to Paisley Park. They invited me to dinner after a Prince screening, and we danced all night at countless Prince parties at First Ave, at Dr Mambos Combo at Bunkers, and all those other parties and concerts all around town. In later visits, I would stay with my friends, their warm, welcoming homes, all over the city.

I remember random kindnesses. The night of the epic official tribute concert, that gathered so many musicians from Prince’s past and felt like time travel. The loving act of assembling only magnified the missing center. Prince’s absence was painful, palpable. The grief was raw on stage and throughout the arena. I had stumbled out before it ended into the quiet streets of downtown St. Paul. Emotionally overwhelmed, I was alone, cold and very lost. My phone wasn't connecting and I dropped it with freezing fingers. It skidded away. A couple dashing from a restaurant saw me scrambling after it and approached, concerned. They promptly ordered me an Uber on the spot. They wouldn't let me give them money. They just wanted me to be safe. I never saw them again, but I will always remember this, and many other acts of kindness, as if it was an encounter with the spirit of the city. In moments like this, I did feel Prince draw close.

Prince left his city before I ever visited, but he handed me over to the Prince community in Minneapolis. Not only those who would soon become my dearest friends, but also all those I met just once, going about town. The Uber driver, the Coop cashier, the bartender, the security guard at the club. When I told people why I was here, everyone had a Prince story to share. As if it was the most normal thing in the world to share deep, private things with a total stranger. Crying with strangers: in the street, in loud bars, at the fence at Paisley Park. I know Minnesotans are often thought to be reserved, but it felt like I had stumbled in through the side door with a magical purple key. 

All I did was show up, heart open, eager to listen, and I was bathed in stories about this artist and his beloved hometown. Prince opened doors and hearts to me.

Visiting Minneapolis in the wake of Prince’s passing was like a frequency shift into another slightly heightened realm. People were attuned to it, as if the whole city began to understand something deeply significant was occurring, as the people kept arriving from everywhere to pay tribute. It was more than the death of a beloved artist. Suddenly Minneapolis had become a place of pilgrimage, where before it was just a city where Prince lived.

I still wonder at how it was possible to make such deep, strong friendships at such rapid pace in mid-life in a city I had just finally found on the map when Prince died. It still seems mysterious and strange. And it wasn't a fever dream or a heightened moment everyone forgot. My friends in Minneapolis who welcomed me into their Prince city are my lifelong friends now. Their steady friendship gave me courage to move to Minneapolis, which changed my life.

One other thing I know for sure — I'm not the only one who had these kinds of experiences in Prince's hometown.   

I invite you to share your stories of visiting Prince’s Minneapolis with the Museum, so we can help share with the community and keep the love flowing.

Send Your Love Letters to Minneapolis

Minneapolis Prince pilgrims from everywhere! Please share your stories, photos, memories and art with us — of visiting Minneapolis, of your Prince friends and the purple community you found there.

Let’s celebrate the city that welcomed us. This is how we send the love back. This is how we let our Minneapolis friends know they're not alone. The Prince community spans the globe, and so many of us have felt the warmth of this city. Now is the time to share those stories.

We're collecting Minneapolis love letters through The People's Museum for Prince to present in June and over these coming months. Share your testimony:

• That moment of Minneapolis kindness you'll never forget

• The stranger who became a friend

• How Prince's city welcomed you

• What Prince’s Minneapolis means to you

• A special place or experience

Share your Minneapolis story, art, memories through our submission form

More info on submissions: 

https://www.peoplesmuseumforprince.org/participate

Tears Go Here

Today's featured artwork is by Jason Bailey. Jason is a school teacher, father and caregiver from Minneapolis who discovered Prince when he was 10 years old. He writes:

"This was painted 4 years after Prince's death. I was still mourning the loss of our beloved Purple One and this helped me continue to work through that. Originally the painting did not feature a tear on the white dove, it was added a few months later as it seemed appropriate, and really helped bring the painting and my thought process to fruition. It's amazing that such a small detail can provide such a dramatic context. In light of what Minneapolis has been through over the past few years, including, but not limited to Prince, the tear can mean so much.”  

He adds: “I appreciate that we can come together in this way to share our love of this great man. It is through our shared connections that we can heal.”

For all my friends and community in Minneapolis: a heartfelt hug and a deep bow of respect. I hope you can feel the love of Prince fans all around the world humming back to you now, rolling in waves of purple love and care to surround you in this deep winter.  

As Prince wrote:

It's just around the corner, it's just around the block

This love that I've been waiting for, a love solid as rock

A love that reaffirms that we are not alone

A love so bright, inside you, it glows

And night and day would run together, and all things will be fine

Still would stand all hate around us

Still would stand all time

-Still Would Stand All Time, Prince, 1988