But his music played in my home all day yesterday, and so his death has stayed in my mind. More so because death has a way of playing with my brain these last few years. It could be because I'm way past the 'midway' mark in mine, and that I will be seeing my 53rd birthday in a few days . . . so many reasons to stop and think.
But the one thing I think, more than any other, is that life is for living. Not just going through the motions, but really being there and cognizant of all that is happening around me.
Or, at least, I try to.
Chuan and I talked about it last night over dinner; that is important to be happy with what we have, and who we are. It's surely not about money, or a big house, and lots of gold in a backroom or vault in a bank.
All the things of this earth made no difference to MJ, did they? He wasn't happy with who he was - down to the very way he looked, because he'd changed himself beyond recognition. And with just two plastic surgeries, if we are to believe reports. But someone from another planet, shown a picture of him at 8, 18 and 28... you get the drift ... would never believe it was the same person. I don't say 'man'. For even his voice was like that of a child; and as hesitant and unsure of what life had in store.
For all his wealth, and the enviable Neverland, he never seemed happy. And he seems to have been always searching - perhaps for a happiness that proved ever elusive.
I listened to someone talk of MJ as 'frail and fragile'; a shell of a man - especially during the days of his trial. But that same person mentioned how he suddenly came to life when he emerged from the courthouse, and saw his fans, and he jumped up on a car, said 'thank you' to them, and began to dance.
It would seem that he only came to life in the eyes of his adoring fans. That when he was no longer on a stage, moving to the beat of the drums, and singing to the music - he would fade away to almost nothing.
How very sad to think that he lived such an ephemeral and transient existence.
If there is a lesson to be learnt here, it is that we matter.
That it is good to wake up and see the sun light up the sky; and to count the stars at night; to even barely feel a breeze on your cheek; or a warm and wet Toffee lick on your knee.
And if you're truly blessed, you'd feel the warm arms of your daughter or your son, wrapping their love around you; or the firm lips of your husband on yours, and a welcome warmth that holds you safe at night.
And you know you are blessed.
And that you don't need anything else to make you whole.
Because you already are.
And, to DanielPhylisMichael, thank you for the link below. It's of Michael Jackson dancing - something I will always watch with wonder, ever wondering why his feet don't seem to touch the floor!
7 comments:
Dear Pat
When I heard of his death on Friday, I went "Oh my God!", and that was about it.
Wasn't until Saturday, when I came across the many blogs that had embedded YouTube videos of his songs. I played "Black or White" from Walski's blog, and immediately felt the loss.
I cried watching the music video for "Earth Song".
50 is too young to be gone.
Yes, it is, dear Michelle. Yes, it is.
Dear Pat,
MJ's untimely demise left the world in mourning. Imagine how bereft his children must be feeling right now, as they have had such a sheltered life and haven't even had much contact with their biological mothers.
I grew up in the early 80s, so he was a big part of my early life. I sang "Beat It" at a class party in Std 1. I wanted a red PVC jacket (of course I didn't get it. My family could not afford impractical junk like that). I had a single white glove. We practiced moonwalking on the living room rug. I cut out pictures of him from the newspaper and pasted them on the inside of my cupboard walls. We watched out for MJ on "America's Top 40". Each time they broadcast "We Are The World", I would look out for MJ (and Bruce Springsteen, I must confess!). Part of me went with him when he died that day. But they must be partying and moonwalking up in Heaven now.
RIP to the most pitch-perfect child singer that ever lived.
You and Chuan are correct. We must treasure what we have, amd live life to the fullest. MJ had it all, yet he never seemed happy with what he had, what he looked like, or who he was with.
Dear Pat,
You are so real, so down to earth that I think you are almost an angel. Please be with me during my difficult times. I will just think of you guarding me. And I know you will be there.
Chuan, you are blessed with a wonderful wife and human being.
God Bless
E,
I loved 'We are the world' (still do), and I looked out for Kenny Loggins ;)
I think that with the passing of anyone who's been a part of our world, a little part of us dies. That's why we feel a loss.
It may seem strange to think this way about MJ whom we've never met, but I don't think we needed to meet him to have had him touch our lives.
But his music is still here. And his softer, sweeter songs are just perfect for these times.
Anonymous 6:19,
I am far from an angel! Believe me! But there's no problem with being with you in your difficult times.
I will think of you and send out good thoughts and wishes into the universe, and hope they find you, and give you strength to know that you are not alone.
I try to remember this mantra, said to me by my uncle, whom I dearly love: "... and this, too, will pass...."
So, no matter how bleak your world seems now, eventually, this will end. Such is life.
God bless.
I thought it was a great post - not corny and fawning but just an accurate description of MJ's life.
Strangely I agree with what you've said. MJ was a man who was always looking for acceptance. I feel so sorry for him sometimes. He had so much talent and yet, he was always seeking something.
Yes, Cranky, I feel sad about him, too. Lots of people just write him off as a freak, and think I'm nuts to even care that he's died. But it's a lot more than that, yah?
How we look at and deal with the things that happen around us, say a lot about who and what we are. And it's not always about 'me'. That someone so musically perfect is now gone, is indeed a loss that I feel inside of me. He didn't need to have been my best friend - for me to feel this.
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