michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 59)
michael... michael... michael...
again i have been hearing your name being called out with more frequency... and again it's always in the same places; if i am at work or in my room. perhaps that part of my brain which hears you is again being utilized, as i write these blog entries to you with more consistency as of late. there's just so much on my mind i want to say to you. i know that i could simply write all of my thoughts to you in a booklet, symbolizing a more concrete passage of time... i know that the way i am writing to you holds a bit less value, due to the lack of intimacy on the internet; the push of a key will never be the same a the stroke of a pen. however, in this technological method which makes things much more minute there is a possibility that someone may innocuously share their musings.
i don't write all these things down for attention; i doubt if many people read these postings. i do write for the hope of connection- that someone out there feels the same passion for your teachings. the only way to know if this is the case is to try... to put it all out there. i could never keep this all to myself. your gifts are far too numerous for that.
as i was waking up before i went to work a thought popped up in my head, in relation to how your teachings appear. some time before i went to bed i heard a conversation on the radio about the chris brown performance. a portion of his breaking down during 'man in the mirror' was played. listening to this clip, i actually have less of a desire to see it (or hear the full performance). as you know i don't like chris brown as a performer. i don't like his style- how he sings, how he moves. despite having you as a major influence i don't see him connecting with the spirits. i see him simply performing for the time. when people emphasize how much he dances like you again, i see technique, but not the spirit.
when i say this... when i see you move i see so many of those lines diminish. you fostered a balance between male and female, elder and child; peace and war, destruction and regeneration... you never wavered between the elements, but your movement narrated the fluidity and impermanence of life. knowing there could never be an equal balance between art and life, you worked to create an internal impression through your teachings.
and herein lie the thoughts which entered my brain as i woke from my rest. within seconds of hearing the clip of chris brown breaking down i could tell that his performance of the song was contrived and self- referential- i mean, he could have picked ANY other song out of your catalog to close his tribute out. the thing is, i don't agree with those who claim that his tears were just as contrived. granted, i can't say that any other song would have prompted such a breakdown. in light of his recent actions (being charged with a felony in beating his partner), he was also guilty in the court of public (and capitalistic) opinion, where his record sales and sponsorships suffered... 'man in the mirror' was a song he HAD to do, for public relations' sake. he may be human, but he is still, for all intents and purposes, famous. and someone that young is still concerned about and attached to his image.
but he is still human. and i believe that in the few seconds i heard of the clip there was a notion of sincerity. because as contrived as his choice was, there appeared to be a conscious effort to seek truth and light. and when the ultimate decision is made to do that, it's very painful to do.
"music is a teacher" indeed.
chris brown already had a large enough support network though. there is a chance he may never find the full impact of your teachings if he is encouraged to do what he's done in the past, in terms of his own work. after this infamous experience is he going to focus on reflection? i cannot say. i should only hope so.
for those of us who do not have a support network, there are many uncertainties.
i am writing this, still scrambling in terms of what i want to say. the right words never seem to come out. i write and write and write hoping that you'll hear me. it's no use in even asking 'what if...?' or imagining that i'd be the one to save you. this is not my intention because that would infer a lack of self-reflection. those things are not things i have asked of myself because frankly, i feel i need to move on from that.
i do know that when thinking about you, i go through major waves of happiness and sadness, all in one simultaneous moment. as i told you before it's got not much to do with you not physically being here. so much has to to do with how our worlds coalesce; how much you have infiltrated my inner self. how much you have stimulated an aspect of myself which was never aware there was light, for many years.
and because i see so much of you in myself i constantly feel a profound sadness; something in me will forever be unfulfilled. because i know these feelings will never be fully understood by others. because of the promise of commitment i made to you and your teachings i realize i am at full risk of isolation.
this is a predicament i cry about... when one is fully committed to study others may define the experience as one of austerity or 'obsession'. all of that lends to feelings of loneliness.
i identify and i empathize when (at work especially) i see so many children, so many babies around me; and i become devastated. because i can only imagine you talking about doing what you did for young people and for years not having a child in your immediate life. the desire to take on a nurturing role tortures you the older you get... the desire for true, solid companionships tortures you.
but you know at the same time that your goals and your work make so much of this unattainable. you do what you do, you make people smile and you go home at night and cry. because you don't have anybody to share your innermost fears with. or anybody to share your goals with, without reservation.
and i look at you and i just marvel at your beauty... i see you and i cannot grasp why people say you are ugly. i stare at images of you and i see a beam of light beneath those sad eyes, waiting to emerge. your beauty is not made of holiness or perfection; you don't get a pardon for altering your looks. the thing is though, as physically beautiful as you were with your original features and hair (i already told you this); the more you began chipping away at the externals the more developed your teachings became.
and still, i become so sad at your changes, because i see that fragility in myself. i know that as hard as i am fighting to eliminate all those messages in my head- the same ones your father told you my mother told me- they are still tucked away, waiting to appear at opportune moments.
perhaps this is the reason i am hearing your name at such a constant pace once again. perhaps the ancestors (perhaps you?) are reaching out to tell me that whatever happens, whatever we look like, our true nature lurks inside; we just have to access it. and the farther you focus on obtaining truth more of it will begin to lurk outside.