the one woman apollo!

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 51)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Wed, 16 Dec 2009 10:14:00 +0000

this piece came to me as i was watching the now-ubiquitous (to me, anyway) videos of you in performance... 1975; you turned 17 that year. your crown shining, as you floated past your siblings... as i watched you i struggled with my anger as i reflected upon my own past, my gaze simultaneously filled with wonderment at your utter beauty. the only word i could think of, is 'perfection'.

in the end, your looks don't matter (particularly since you'd never be 17 forever, and besides, true beauty transcends physical form) but i must stop to celebrate the poetry of your... of that moment, ceased in time on a relic. within all the words i have written thus far, i find myself to be speechless. just read the piece, my teacher. it's actually the first piece i recall writing in about 4 years.

(note: this was finished at 8:17 am on 15 december 2009)

patience
is what i have learned from you
and what i am to continue to learn
as i watch you spin
effortlessly
i marvel at how
GOD
could create anyone so perfect
simultaneously acknowledging that no one
actually is
perfect
your large brown eyes
so deep
and your features
so strong as
the ocean where some of your ancestors
were perhaps
buried

as you effortlessly spin i give in to the urge
to marvel at your perfection
i ask how GOD could create a being
so
beautiful
a graceful swan emerging from the throes of
adolescence
head thrown back in ecstasy of the
passion play of an evening's
performance
rapturously
effortlessly
spinning

your vibrato quakes my spine and moves to my insides
as you sing about love
and loneliness
as if someone so perfect
could be so lonely.
you take me to places i should
never
imagine going
who am i to think i could reach you
when the oasis is broken
with GOD'S cruel jokes
of blemishes
or
getting caught in a microphone cord
or
a parent to say that your perfection is
meaningless

and as i watch you gracefully glide across the floor
i angrily question how someone can challenge your
perfection,
how a man from whose seed you were born
could make such remarks

then i return to what you have taught me.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 50)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 10:19:00 +0000

today marks the 5th month where your presence has been felt in a different way... it is, of course, a mystery as to how this day five months ago came to be. there are so many holes in the story it's no wonder that there have been theories that this event was indeed, a hoax... that you will return in physical form at some point, when you are ready.

in many ways this theory makes me very happy, as it means that you are under the facade of remaining out of the spotlight, just relaxing from the 45 years you'd performed nonstop. most likely this is wishful thinking; if you actually were still alive you'd most likely be working on some upcoming project, to shock the people even more. honestly my teacher... i say this with love. if indeed you are still here walking amongst us, you need to STOP WORKING right now, and take the time out to care for yourself. do what you wished for your mentor/teacher, james brown: step back and enjoy your life. enjoy your children while you still can.

but let's go back where we started and discuss your transcendence as it stands... it is as i said, the fifth month. i should always sense the so-called 'anniversary's' presence, since i acquire a deep unexplained sadness, and i begin to cry... i also have extremely fragmented dreams, which go nowhere. you appear in and out of them. this happens every time.

i cried on the bus, on the way back to portland... my head rested on the window. i should also know when the 'anniversary' is coming up, because i tend to feel a overwhelming sense of loneliness, as i review my life as it stands. i think about if i will ever have children in my life; i also think about how i don't want to raise those children on my own. i think about if everything i am doing has been done in vain. whether or not i believe this is the case any other time of the year does not even matter, as it is THAT MOMENT where i question everything.

and "i cry", as you once sang, "sometimes cos i'm confused". i think spontaneity is very good for someone like me (and travelling to san francisco was a good reminder of how much more spontaneous i need to be- and how much more spontaneous i USED to be. i lose so much of a sense of it living here in portland), and as much as i love this i also seek out some sort of stability. there are also so many things i want to do... spontaneity assists me in getting there, but i also need stability if i'm going to finish what i began. i long to roam and wander; but the older i get i clamor for a 'home life'. i want to be able to know i accomplished something, and i can look back and know that i did something positive in the world.

as i was crying there was something i wanted to say to you but i couldn't figure it out in time enough to tell you. i had a lot of questions but they were all so jumbled.

but yes, i did in fact go to san francisco for a few days... i did go for you, my dear teacher. i wanted to represent some of the things you have taught me. there is an event called 'prince vs. michael' (i have written about it to you before, as they do it sometimes in portland as well). the event, which took place on the 21st, was in san francisco. it was also the 7th anniversary of the event, where it's not so much of a battle than an honoring of the art of you and mr. nelson. dave and jeff, who put on the events, put a lot of love into what they are doing. they are good people.

going into the event, i only knew the people who were putting on the event. by the end i met so many wonderful, kind people. i ended up teaching some people some of your moves, and i did the 'thrillerdance' twice- once with a whole bunch of people and the other with one other person. i didn't even realise so many pictures were taken until a bunch were sent to me. people were amused that i had come all the way from portland to this event, and they wanted me to come to san francisco more often to the event, and to teach some classes. someone even jokingly suggested i move there...

one thing i did notice was that the people who were advocates of prince (the prince contingent, if you will) were very self-assured. they were self-assured, but far from pretentious. they gave me hugs, and big smiles. i thought of my sister when i saw them, and i thought of my friend barry. both of them love prince, and are quite self-assured people. of course i am making a widespread generalization (and i could be totally wrong), but this is based on the people i have met, and known. i am going to make another sweeping generalization here: people who i have known and met, and who love you tend to be somewhat sad.

i think the people who love you and your art recognise the pain you present. even though prince may have had pain in his life he presents his art to be boisterous. though in my opinion it's difficult to compare the both of you, i just wanted to say i noticed a general sort of attitude those who love prince have, and the one those who love you have.

nevertheless, the event was a whole lot of fun, and proved, in the end, if the music moves you then nothing will stop you. my legs and feet were in pain the next day; i was dancing from about 8pm until 2 in the morning, virtually non-stop. all that was left was, as you love to say, the dance. there were times it got very emotional for me, and i almost cried... it was as if your spirit were moving through me.

is it possible you were watching over me when i was in california? was it my intuition and my desire for spontaneity which led me to certain events?

the next day dave took me to a record shop (because whenever i travel somewhere i must see the record shops) where i met a man (also named michael) who met you some time ago... he saw the buttons on my jacket, asked if i was a fan and proceeded to tell me the story of how you two met. it was after the record shop was closed, of course; and you signed a record for him. he was a very sincere person. when he was contacted by news stations to speak on what he thought of you, he declined, knowing that his words would be twisted.

i'm sure that's very familiar to you...

the next day (which was my last day in san francisco) was a day of highs and lows... in wandering about this town (which i have not previously been) i opened myself up to more positive experiences; but in between was some sobering news. within one hour i found out a friend of mine was diagnosed with breast cancer, and another friend with hearing loss. upon hearing this news i wasn't compelled to go out and 'live life to the fullest' any more than i already think we should; nor was it a reminder of the impermanence of life. it was what it was, it is what it is. however, you don't always expect to hear news of this sort, in the middle of wandering about.

as sad as that news was to hear, i decided not to dwell on it, as these are strong-willed, resilient people. i walked on and on that day for hours on end, just wandering... i ran into a chiropractic office with a copy of some information on the toxic ingredients in influenza vaccines, from a chiropractic perspective. i was intrigued, as that is not something i see every day. i walked in and asked if there was an extra copy of what was on the window outside, and a man screamed, "i have those buttons!" he exclaimed how he was the biggest fan of yours! it turns out that he was on a flight to london on the 25th of june, when he heard the news about you. he was going to go see you in concert. he even showed people on the plane what he was going to wear to your concert. since he could not see your show (due to the events which occurred) he instead saw 'thriller live' in the theatre. he also spent two days in 2005 in front of the courthouse, when you were on trial, supporting you.

and so of course i interviewed him.

these moments are what i miss; not having to plan things with others. just working around the excitement people share, and being open to whatever happens. i long for life in portland to be like this...

by the end of the day, my legs hurt so much from over four hours of walking- and by the time i got back to portland i developed swollen ankles. i could hardly walk without extreme pain, due to also sitting on a bus for almost 20 hours. but it was truly worth it. i hope i have honored your teachings...

during the bus trip we had to change over, stopping in sacramento. i occupied my time there by people watching (something i love to do) and reading some books i brought with me. there are no longer coin-operated televisions at greyhound stations apparently; they are now replaced with flat-screens perched just below the ceiling. it's quite distracting to have this blaring noise (even if it's not even that loud). being that i have not watched television regularly in 15 years, it's easy for me to not get sucked into the cathode rays. so, amongst my people watching i spot a young girl at a vending machine, sighing dramatically.

i asked her what was wrong. she pointed to the candy bar, stuck in between relinquishing its spot and protecting the other bars from being eaten. she lamented that she was getting the candy bar for her mother, and that she now lost money. i told her i would offer to get her another one, so that both bars would come out. she declined my offer.

moments passed, and i run to get change to get the candy bar.

i walked up to the little girl's mother, two candy bars in tow. she offered me one of them, and i just said no, it's okay. i think she mentioned that i did not have to do that, and i believe i said something to the effect of, 'it's okay...' i returned to my spot to wait for the bus and proceeded to read, when i looked up and saw someone walking towards me. it was this little girl whose mother was now enjoying her candy bars. she reached out and gave me a hug. she said, 'GOD BLESS YOU'. i asked her what her name was; she responded, 'justice'. i told her my name, and we shook hands. we bid each other safe travels.

that moment could not have been more perfect. justice? my teacher... were you watching this?

as the night wore on into the next day; in between reading i look up to find on this screen perched up near the ceiling, a report on how the doctor who supposedly was the man to give you a bunch of drugs before the fatal moment- is back at his office, at work. could this experience at the bus station get any more surreal?

delving back into my reading, i hear your name being called nearby... are these the ancestors calling again? i hear your name again, to find out there is a conversation being held about you. must i be called to 'set some things straight'? we shall see.

i walked over to the men having this conversation. when i told them i heard your name being called, one of them mentioned the context: there is always a case whenever you are dealing with women and children. i proceed to tell them to read the full transcripts of the trial, which are of course, online. in my reading of the transcripts i find, just like this case surrounding your transcendence, the two major cases concerning the allegations against you to have many holes. the prosecution was not credible.

but let's not dwell on the past like that... one of the men had one of your songs on his telephone- or some sort of i-pod or something. i proceeded to dance. i even showed them the dolls... i'm sure they thought i was crazy (at least that's what i read from their looks, body language and laughter) but i don't really care... i'm just sharing what you have taught me.

i returned to portland, and on the next day i worked, on this day, marking the 5th month... has time passed quickly, or has it ceased to move? surely, it waits for no one. therefore, in this time i will continue to learn from you, and share all you have taught, and are teaching me.

it was indeed wonderful to return home to lumbia, where she curls up on my lap (then paces back and forth, speaking loudly until she falls asleep) as i write this... when i returned, she looked at me with her wide eyes and asked, 'you went all the way to san francisco, for HIM?' and in turn i say to her, 'ah, my friend, someday i hope to take you there, and perhaps you will know...'

and she will.

it's been a while since we last spoke in this way my dear teacher, but i hope you've been hearing me loud and clear the whole time.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 49)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 13:08:00 +0000

once again, i am beginning to feel pretty alone... in this time of mourning i still feel alone. so many are wrapped up in the wonder of your performance when ultimately, in the end none of that really matters to me.

i am quite open in my refusal to pay money to see the film which supposedly documents the rehearsals for the tour you claimed to be your final. "this is it!" you exclaimed. you already know how upset i was with you initially for agreeing to do the dates, even if it was only 10 dates you announced. but all that is unimportant now i suppose, as you were going to perform anyways. and since you were, yes, i did attempt to get a ticket (and you know how that went)... i really was upset at you though; i kept saying that there was no need for you to please some fans... they'd be okay if you just announced you were retiring from a life of performance to raise your three children without fail, or interruption.

then the inevitable occurred.

and so now, sony is documenting it. and they paid $60 million to get the rights to do that.

and so yes, i feel alone in my refusal to pay money to see this film. the general response is that i am missing out on the wonder that is you, and that the film is magical, and that you are a genius.

well, aside from the fact that i don't believe in the concept of the genius- we all shine in our own ways- i do not doubt that you have absolutely brilliant moments in the film. of COURSE you do; it is you! the thing is, i don't need to watch a bunch of clips edited to display the wonderment. and if this is going to be an actual DOCUMENTARY, i want to see the sad and the dark moments as well. i don't just want to see the wonderment. i want to see the backstage struggles you had with AEG in terms of dealing with contracts. i want to see your reservations about performing 50 shows- which is too much for ANYBODY, i might add. i want to see your struggles with insomnia, and maintaining the grueling schedule. i want to see you hunched over in pain. because this is what it appeared to be, just from looking at seconds of footage from the rehearsal which surfaced immediately after the news of your transcendence. i did not find you to be as healthy looking as so many others claimed you looked.

my heart went out to you because i wanted you to rest. i did not want you to perform. ever again.

and of course, you are resting now... for sure.

and so i refuse to agree with their profiting off of your transcendence. and so i feel alone because so many others are emotionally enraptured by your brilliance. for me though, the brilliance is not in your performance. that is not why i consider you my teacher. anyone can perform; it's what and how you teach that make the performances stand out.

but so many people are telling me i should go see this 'documentary'. and without arguing or discounting their passion for the film how do i say 'no'?

and of course, what if this is all a major trick, planned by you the whole time? what if this event was orchestrated.. what if all of it were orchestrated? that WOULD actually be a brilliant act. however...

for me that argument does not add up, as none of the money is going to some sort of non-profit. it does not add up for me.

i will continue to ask for guidance...

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 48)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 12:21:00 +0000

i had the most surreal dream before i woke up last... and you were in it. this holds significance because it's the first clear dream i have had of you since all of this happened... all of the other dreams i had with you were so hazy. i'd see you, but you'd weave in and out, and i could never remember why you were there.

but this time, you saw me, and acknowledged me. just like all the other times.

still, there was a difference.

it was in the lobby of a bowling alley, in a bar/restaurant... you were sitting alone at a table, looking as you looked today (or this year). i approached you, and you smiled. i mentioned to you that i wanted to talk with you about the book i was writing (but had since stopped, since your transcendence); and before you could even respond, a mass of people appeared in between us. the words they were speaking were incoherent... i just know that somehow they wanted to be closer to you.

i became a bit sad, as i really wanted to speak with you about the book. i am still looking for guidance on it. as the crowd closed around you, you became transparent. i could see through you. the sounds around me became quieter and of less significance, as i sat down next to the crowd, clamoring for your attention. they were still acting as if you were not invisible.

the sounds were drowned out now, by my focus on an older couple, about 80 years old... initially, they were sitting next to each other, cuddling. about a minute later they were sitting across from one another, playing with objects on the table- salt and pepper shakers, utensils... they moved them around like chess pieces, then played with them as if they were dolls. they made a family of the items on the table. i looked at how much fun they were having with each other, and i began crying.

and then i woke up.

of course i am not sure what this means... does this mean i have acknowledged your transcendence in ways i could now be comfortable with? i don't know. does this mean you are soon returning as another physical form? i cannot say. does this mean you have actually given me an answer about the book? i am still trying to figure that out.

perhaps these answers may never come to me. perhaps they already did.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 47)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 11:32:00 +0000

despite speaking with you everyday outside of the written word, i felt i needed to come back here and process things in this way... as of today it has indeed been four months since your transcendence; and it wouldn't be crazy of me to say that i still cry. in fact, just a couple of hours ago tears streamed down my face, thinking about the impact you have made, and most likely will never be made again by anyone else. there are people who certainly come close. but how many people can create a global phenomenon through one dance- a dance which people have painstakingly learned for weeks at a time, just to present it to the world.

this year i believe it was said to have been about 200,000 people (at least) all around the world who danced in your honor. i was one of those people, my teacher. i was the one in the wolf mask. last year, you looked down from a helicopter in L.A. to watch it (and i could imagine the joy on your face!). now, you can watch us all. you can watch us all do this dance, in honor of the joy you have given us through your art.

for me, i cannot say you have totally given me joy through your art... even though you have made me smile, for sure; mostly you have given me moments of intense sadness (through identification) and introspection. i have learned so much from you because of this. still, it does give me great joy to see so many around the world share one thing with each other. as you have written: "(we) keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation. the creator and creation merge into one wholeness of joy. (we) keep on dancing and dancing... and dancing, until there is only... the dance."

in watching so many clips of people dancing around the world at the same time i did cry tears of joy... which turned into tears of grief. i thought about how i may never encounter another person as complicated, as intricate, as multi-dimensional, as wounded, as shy, as sensitive, as vulnerable, as learned, as joy-inducing, as contradictory, as caring, as lonely, as withdrawn, as revealing... as you.

and it makes me sad to know that i could never tell you how much you have taught me.

there is just so much to say but i will leave it at this right now, and speak with you outside of the written word.

thanks for listening; i'm sure the this month has been real busy for you.

speak soon,
your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 46)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 14:41:00 +0000

look, i am going to be frank with you... it has been THREE MONTHS.

in the course of these three months i have been feeling hopeless, depressed, relieved, upset, confused, happy, conflicted... sometimes all in the same day.

but all of a sudden all of these tapes have been surfacing with your voice. i have fought with myself about whether or not to listen to them. but as in everything else i have fought about with you i decided to listen to some of them. the infinite sadness in your voice was so startling... i mean, i knew of some of the things you spoke of, and i even recognized your sadness from listening to interviews with you. but still, there was something which greatly startled me. it could be because some of these things i still see in myself. and i wonder if you did too... i wonder if there was ever a time, outside of being on the stage and outside of being with children, were you ever truly happy.

...and i wonder how, after all these years of being in total control, when you felt you may have lost control...

i feel so compelled to write so much after listening to you, but i am not sure of what to do. i feel this mental cloud that just won't go away. sometimes it still breaks for showers, and every so often there's even a break of sunshine. but overall the climate has not changed. the lack of seasons gets tiring after a while. however, seasons last for three months, so maybe, just maybe...

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 45)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 10:17:00 +0000

i am still trying to wrap my head around things still... i can laugh at some things actually (for a change) but you still weigh heavy on my mind. and not to mention feeling alone in this political situation, but that's a whole other story...

i have become quite obsessed in reading the many theories which have been popping up, about you still being physically here. that you are hiding out in switzerland... that you will return in a year... that you are alive and well in a drug treatment centre... that you faked everything because your 'death certificate' was not signed by a doctor (your sister signed it). that the movie coming out is going to explain the whole hoax. there are so many of them, it sort of makes me laugh.

i am still trying to make sense of you NOT being here still, and now this... is it wishful thinking, or supposed scientific fact? why can't people just accept the cycle of life, that your purpose on this earth was not physical immortality. i mean, the theories get more and more elaborate and detailed, as if presenting a transcript for an opening statement for a case or deposition. as detailed as it all looks, it still sounds fairly un-credible.

but still, the curiosity has gotten the best of me. i look into those large, deep, dark eyes of yours (the most beautiful eyes ever) and i still feel you. when i get lonely sometimes, i feel you. frankly i look at all of this, and i just laugh to myself.

or is it wishful thinking?

and yes, with my obsession about these theories, it just furthers the acknowledgement that i haven't gotten over you yet. this is getting to be a bit much... i have never had a grieving period this long before. i walked into a store, and i THOUGHT i heard your voice, with that signature hiccup/scream. but i couldn't figure out what song it could be. and then the music became clearer and clearer. and then i froze up, and i began to sink. i felt really stuck, when everyone else was moving along, doing their shopping. it's like, WHY did you have to be on AT THAT MOMENT!!?? then someone who worked there asked if i was finding everything okay. i'm sure he saw the trouble on my face, but i couldn't tell him what i was feeling at that point. i just don't have the energy anymore to explain any of this to people. when i left the store i just felt kind of sick. it's like everything you've ever done just flashed before me... there was no distinction of time, or of space.

this is the thing: why does love always feel so destructive to me? if i love you, i should be happy for you, right? you are in a better place. but this undeniable sadness is proving to dominate my spirit at random times. if it were actually the case that you were by some chance, still physically here, would it make my sadness go away? probably not. because i still would not know if you've heard me.

i do wonder if you will ever speak to me again, in some vision or dream... or are you so busy making sense of all the other dreams?

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 44)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 10:02:00 +0000

yes, i know. i know... it is true. you are not physically here. i keep telling myself this, but your presence haunts me, to the point where you never left. i'm not even sure how to explain this. your presence actually seems more tangible to me now, than when you WERE here. i feel stifled, and i don't really get it. i am frustrated that i cannot move. is this a major aspect of grief that i am still feeling?

i listen to you, and it feels so incredibly strange to do that. i mean, it's stranger than ever before. it's like, the notes are all different or something. it's like, there is something different in your eyes, your smile. i feel this lingering anxiety in all of it, that i cannot explain.

there is this film of you coming out now... they took footage of your rehearsals. they took hundreds of hours of footage and narrowed it down to a couple of hours. i am essentially opposed to this, but what can i do? i feel so powerless at this point, and alone. before i went to sleep my brain was working overtime, asking you all of these questions... how you feel about that, what would you have done... why are they making this film, why are they exploiting you? and as i was trying to get to sleep i heard someone calling my name... and i wondered if it was you calming me. because right after i heard my name i soon went to sleep.

i see you, and i see your smile, and they don't match with anything you are saying. it just doesn't connect. everything about all the magic and wanting to create it; everything about the love and its connection to the dance... i have been looking at so many of your photographs and all i am beginning to see is a reflection of pain. and obviously i wonder if what i am seeing is just a reflection of myself.

i said i wasn't gonna get any of those commemorative magazines to you... whatever those publications do it will be of no justice to you. they could never capture the essence of what you mean to me. but i have been getting them, and finding all of these images- ones i have seen many times, and ones i have never seen before. and in each image i find something new. and i keep telling myself to put you away for awhile. stop looking at these images. distance myself from the grief. i am trying to convince myself. but i can't look away. it's not that i'm trying to face my grief head on- i'm already deep in it. i am just still trying to make sense of this grief for you... someone i never even really knew, but has impacted my life in ways you could never know.

sometimes i get mad at myself and the voice starts going off... and people are STILL telling me, after almost three months, people who have not seen me since all of this happened, that i was the first person they thought about... i just want it to stop. i want the voices to stop. it's becoming hard to take, all the screaming happening in my head. i feel like all these people are screaming at me, and i don't know which way to go.

i just sigh... it's like tears are always on the surface. it's like this never ending sadness. but WHY? and even if i saw the film which is to be released next month of you it would be too painful to watch. because it's like you are there, and you're not. watching videos of you prior to all of this is still painful but i can deal with it... but now... all of this is just so surreal.

and with all these other people transcending right now as well, it just doesn't seem as strange. i recognize the cycle of life; the certainty of physical finality. but for you, even though i have accepted it it's still too difficult to grasp. because it feels like you are here.

lisa (my housemate) came back from italy, and brought me back this special edition of a european magazine. on the front lay a strip which read, "...n'est pas mort." it read that you are not dead. as i don't particularly like the word 'dead' and choose to believe that bodies transcend, i would concur. however i wonder if they are referring to you as a representation of cultural iconography. for me though, it hit me now more than ever with you how the soul does indeed live forever.

i feel you. it's becoming harder and harder to explain, but i do. and i do become frustrated by it, because as i mentioned to you before, i don't feel like i could love another person. it makes no sense, does it? i did not KNOW you. but people will never know the depths of the relationship i had with you. this is why it's so difficult, and frustrating. and it sounds like i am running in circles here.

it's not like if i 'moved on' i'd feel like i'd be hurting you (how could i?). i just feel as if the extent of the relationship i had with you could never be repeated. and, for better or for worse, i cherished what we had and i don't want that to change. as angry as i got with you i don't want that to change. your qualities could never be replaced and i do wonder if there would be someone with comparable qualities. i'm too fearful to find out. because i don't want to ruin anything. i don't want the rejection.

you see? i feel at a loss. with your transcendence, with my still coming to terms with it. with still trying to figure out what our true connection was. with why i can't just 'move on' like everybody else. with what i should do with this book i was writing.

what is it you said? to not take the talents given to you and have them cultivate and grow is "the biggest sin in the world." but tell me, where does this lie with me? how do i take what i have done (with my intention to share with the world) and not exploit you? how do i take my grief and share it with people? where do i find these people to share the grief with? i feel like there's so many things coming at me at once- do this, do that- but i can't tell where they're coming from.

and even through all of the pain in those images i discussed earlier, there is a beauty in you which could never be exploited, no matter how hard people try. this is what i am trying to get to, in the end... but first i need to glide past all the voices screaming at me.

in the end, what really matters?

...

thank you for listening, dear teacher.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 43)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 10:51:00 +0000

this is another quick one, teacher... there is so much violence in the world. i know you know this, but the older we get it becomes clearer. or closer. the hope of childhood you always speak of, has been replaced with cynicism and power grabs. in learning about you and becoming connected with you i learned patience; and the child in me returned.

i'm sure you are so busy. i know i wondered if you were resting before, right after your transcendence, but now, since your physical is now buried in the earth you came from, i'm sure you'd like to have some time to yourself. you've spent so much energy on this earth doing your best to make people happy. but it was a whole lot of work, because there is so much emotional and physical violence.

but i have been calling you- as i am sure many have- and i haven't heard from you in some time. there is only so much you can handle. but i finally heard your name being called again, whispered amongst music playing at work. once again, i didn't know if it was you or the ancestors who had been doing it before. but it was comforting to know you were still around.

however, i got progressively sadder throughout the day. it was this inexplicable sadness. when people asked why i was sad, i just said your name. i am still extremely heartbroken over you. i am at a loss about everything right now. people ask me what i think about everything- your funeral, the way you transitioned, all of it- and at first what seemed assured now turns into self-doubt. and it all turns into depression.

i need to know. i just need to know.

and all this sadness turned into confusions, seeming miscommunication and tragic events.

do you remember richard, the man i told you about? well, i just found out he has transcended, as of a couple of hours ago... please show him around, okay teacher? i'm sure you will like him, he's a very nice person.

there is also someone i know who was arrested yesterday, just for taking photographs of an arrest. the irony about this is that just a week ago, i was with alan, and he was snapping pictures of an arrest (with a flash!) and nothing happened to us. i already told you about that. nevertheless, chris was arrested, and had his phone and camera confiscated (and i'm sure they have pulled up numbers on his phone)... he was in jail for 12 hours, detained and handcuffed. when he asked to drink some water, they pointed to the toilet. these people get trained and paid to dehumanize and abuse people.

and to top it off, i saw a video of a martial arts/karate class gone violent... karate is translated into 'empty hand', yet some folks are filled with ego. in this video (which apparently was from 1984) a senior black belt student literally beats up another man until he is bleeding from his head or ear (he kicked the man in the head), and they drag him away, like a pig or cattle at a slaughterhouse. the man ended up succumbing to the injuries- brain damage, i am sure. i was not expecting this to happen in the video, and i ended up feeling sick after watching it.

so right now, i need some positive thoughts... good thoughts. the one really good thing which happened was at work. i saw these three girls (one looked about 6, the other two looked around adolescent/pre-teen age). all three of them were extremely dark, with velvety-smooth skin. their skin was absolutely perfect. their beauty just stopped me in my tracks. they were these three young girls who were most likely running an errand for their family member or parent; just going about their day. i felt compelled to openly admire their beauty, and i did. i told one of the girls (she seemed to be the 'head' sister; the most assertive one) and she thanked me. her tone made it seemed like they were complimented on their beauty more often than not. i should hope so.

yes, i do realize, teacher, than out of all the sadness comes a ray of light. still, you must admit that it is hard to maintain a smile all the time. i had to find a space to cry at work... i have to remember , "life is still worthwhile..." i fight for peace of mind, but i also want to fight for the end of the cycles of abuse.

i ask you to be there with me in this fight, my teacher.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 42)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 11:56:00 +0000

with everything that is going on, my heart does not sit well... sometimes i find myself talking out loud to you, asking you questions, never knowing whether or not you hear me... i have a growing need to know how you are... i need to be assured.

i did NOT watch your burial yesterday, i refused to. i can only assume it was televised, as some people have commented that your funeral was making them cry. i would rather just have what we shared in my heart, without being influenced by a camera's perspective; putting you away like the end of a chapter, frozen in time... but a song you once sang made me think of you in this time, this time the lyrics have changed a bit though:

"your physical is truly gone/but know your love survives, with this you live forever..."

will your soul finally get to rest now? will the form you took on in this plane finally be left alone? are you just shaking your head in confusion and wonderment, or just knowing fascination? my heart is heavy and i feel so confused right now. this is all i have to say today... i mean, there is so much more, but what i would say would just sound convoluted. i'm just waiting to hear from you...

hey, one more thing... if you ever see someone named richard (he was my colleague in radio) please tell him hello for me... he had a heart attack recently and then his brain collapsed too... his family took him off life support because he was not really responding, and struggling so much. so teacher, if you see him within the next days, weeks or month or so, please tell him i say hello, and thank you.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 41)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 06:30:00 +0000

teacher, i know this day was so full, but i feel so empty right now... my heart was ready and open for the opportunities to come but right now i sit here writing this to you, and it is broken. i type, and the screen becomes blurry until i wipe the tears... this is becoming all too much... too much for me to even fathom.

i know you were there with the world on your day... it seemed like everywhere it rained just a little, and then the sun came out. i had a deep feeling you would be there with all of us, just smiling. as i was riding towards the park where the day for you was going to be held, i said to myself, 'it's gonna be a good day'... as it drizzled for a few minutes here i thought perhaps it was you crying, cleansing the environments of all the august 29ths you were physically here... and now, this is the first one where you were not. and you wanted everything to be fresh for us. this is a new life; a new formation you have taken on.

i got between 20 minutes and one hour of sleep, before i had to get up and go prepare for the event in your honor... despite being fairly delirious from a lack of sleep a wave of endorphins fell over me, because i knew that this was YOUR DAY, and it would be good. after all this time of preparing the radio show and this day, it was finally here. sleep did not really seem to be an option. it was 7 am when i left the house; the clouds were still out, and it was a bit cool, but you just knew the clouds were gonna let some sunshine in...

i went to the one store that was open at 7 am, to pick up the last of the supplies needed for the event. there were so many things i had strapped on to the back of my bicycle, i was not sure how i was going to lug it all into the store. there was a man standing around in the area where the bicycles were parked. i asked him if he were going to be standing there for a while. when he said yes i asked him if he could watch my stuff, and he was kind enough to. as the store was large, sometimes it's difficult to navigate quickly, in terms of time. i appreciate this man's patience, because i exited the store in what seems like 20 minutes. i told him that i was having an MJ event in the park, and that he should stop by. he seemed interested. he mentioned other events going on during the day as well.

as i placed my purchases on the bicycle, another man happened to be standing there: tony two hearts. as the bicycle fell over due to the weight of everything on it, he helped me to prevent the bicycle from completely falling over. thus beginning a relationship i will never forget.

as he noticed i have dressed as you, dear teacher, he proceeded to inform me that he was once a barry white impersonator. he then sang one of my favourite barry white songs. he actually did look not unlike barry white; with enough effort (and make-up) he'd greatly resemble him. he told me we'd make a great team of impersonators. i told him i was not an impersonator, but he sort of ignored this statement. he also continuously flirted with me, hoping i'd be his wife one of these days. he said that when he got to heaven he'd leave me everything. we would then meet again in the afterlife and seal a further bond, proving to everyone that our relationship lasted. despite having just met, he mentioned to everyone he spoke to that i was his 'lady friend'.

in most cases i would have critiqued or screamed on him immediately. there has to be a line of interaction which must be respected. i am not sure where it was developed in a man's brain that every woman would react favourably to a man's advances. somehow, i found something in tony immediately, that was different than most men who do the same thing. it was as if he was sent to me on purpose.

i told him where i was gonna be, and that he should come. as i was setting up, he showed up, and stayed for most of the day. initially he kept trying to sell the idea that i should be the lady in his life, but he did recognize that wasn't going to happen. he did leave for a brief period of time, to return as your 'bad' album was playing. i cannot recall which song he returned on; all i know is that when he returned, the songs represented the lead narration in what has unfolding... 'another part of me' rolled into 'man in the mirror'... as the lyrics of self-reflection emanated from the speakers, tony (whose birth name is lawrence; he is part irish and part samoan and initially identified as black) cried out that he wished all the hatred in the world would cease. tears rolled down his face as he wished for people to understand him. he just wanted people to be nice to him... why were people so mean to him? his head pointed to the sky, and he cried, and cried... and cried. the tears rolling down his cheeks, he embraced me. he said that he wanted there to be no more sadness in the world; he loved to make people happy, so he dances and sings.

each song which passed virtually matched with what he spoke of, as if those songs were an extension of himself. he opened up to me about so much, the bad and the good. he spoke of love, of violence in his childhood... of the advice his father gave him. he reminded me so much of you, teacher. i told him that you two were so similar.

the day went by so quickly... the first people to show up at the event were a mother, father and child, from arizona. the father signed something in the book i set out for you... he put down a poem he wrote for you. the mother spoke of how she put on a memorial for you when you transcended (in arizona), and no one showed up. she saw the poster for the event in the park, and she said he had to stop by. she had only been in portland for three days at that point.

then a woman (who grew up in new york city) and her child show up... people were really interested in the setup i did (especially the dolls)...

i even set up some cheese enchiladas for you, because i knew you loved them. i left a space where people could offer you things, and people offered everything from cookies, chips (tortilla and potato), fruits and cake, to a keychain.

there were so many types of people there... people recovering from drug addiction, parents, children, musicians... some weren't even aware of the event, and decided to hang out for a while, and talk about what you meant to them. the day was so positive, and touching. people wrote in the book set out for you, and they showed their love in so many different ways...

i know you were speaking, my dear teacher, because so many children happened to show up! children i didn't even know, nor did they even have a connection with what was going on (they were there for a whole other reason- a get-together for other purposes... a back to school gathering, and a birthday party). but they loved and admired you, and they got such joy out of your music. all the kids kept asking for 'beat it' and 'thriller'! they kept playing with your doll likenesses... they kept looking at photos of you... they went on and on about how much they loved you, and how you were the 'king of pop'. jesse, in particular, kept yelling about how you were his hero. umu continuously interpreted your moves her way, including the 'grab'... cameron was having his 4th birthday party, and he danced right along with the other kids to your music. these kids were not even old enough to catch you on 'motown 25' when it originally came on, but you resonated with them in ways that are inimitable. their love for you was so sincere. the way you have reached many generations is so phenomenal.

these kids were so funny... one little girl asked if you were my brother, because i looked like you... two seconds later a little boy came up to me and told me i looked like you. i was dressed in a more 'casual' outfit- i chose to be minimal, as i am still in mourning. but i also felt that, out of respect to you and your day i would not wear the more 'flashy' outfits. i did wear all black... a longer black button-up shirt, and black trousers, with the stripe going down the seam, with the black fedora. and still, some kids thought i looked like you... i still wonder, as this is not the first (or second) time to happen, if we are somehow related... tenth cousins or something.

in wanted to take all of these children home with me!!! they were all so sweet. i think their parents were doing a fine enough job, so they didn't need me... but still...

spending time with all of these children, as great as it was, gave me such an empty feeling inside. like you for so many years (before you became a father), i have a great desire to have children in my life.

despite there being a huge wave of positivity and love throughout the day, i could feel a growing sadness on tony/lawrence's part... he introduced himself and told people about his life... he even danced to make the crowd happy (and because the music moved him... he wanted to turn the music up louder than it could go!). i could tell people still found him strange, or a bit of an irritant. it can be lonely for someone like him, because people don't understand him. i felt contradictory about him- i wanted to protect him from all the people who obviously were laughing because they thought he was 'not well', or getting too close to them. at the same time i knew he'd be able to protect himself. i did not want to stand in his way of his mission to make people happy. by the time he was getting ready to leave though, he had such a look of rejection on his face. i knew this look very well. he was so happy throughout the day, but something was eating him up inside.

he gave me a kiss on my hand, then bid farewell... he told me he would see me soon. he mentioned something of our plans to collaborate. he left, and then he was gone. i really do hope i get to see him again. he is one of those people you meet every once in a while, who bless you with their presence. most people find them strange (or crazy), but they are here to teach us all something.

wherever he is now, i hope he is safe... i didn't tell him a thing about myself, and he opened his heart to me. that is one of the kindest things anyone can do.

the evening proceeded, and there was a pause in music (as we were getting ready to play thriller (as we were set to do the dance); benny placed himself on the opposite side of the park and played some bongos. i went over to him and told him we were going to work on 'thriller'. he thanked me for playing music, as his batteries would not waste that way. he then moved to the side of the park which was closer to the event, and played away.

denice (who is a foster mother) ended up doing part of the thrillerdance with myself and kate... kate and i both knew the dance but we had forgotten some of the sequence, since we had not done the dance in a while... but denice was just learning it, and she got it down so quickly!!! we moved on from the thrillerdance, and i began doing my interpretation of 'billie jean' (a song we already heard numerous times throughout the day- i was not expecting to repeat any songs, as i brought so many CDs to play!!!).

there were even MORE children i ended up meeting... a little girl came up to me and asked why i liked you... i asked her back, 'you got all day?' she responded back that she thought i was a boy (wow!). i love the honesty of children... they calls it as they sees it. their honesty is not intended to be malicious at all. they state what they think they see. as i was getting ready to answer her initial question she ran off to other kids, who were older (one of them may have been a sibling, or another family member. the little girl (who's name i cannot remember) ending up taking pictures with us.

daniel, denice's foster child, wrote to you in the book, that you were the best "hip-hop singer" he had ever known. see? you were even hip hop to some folks. you spoke to so many people in so many different ways.

when i was sitting with natalie (she came too, teacher), marcus came up to us and asked how you died... i wanted to say, 'he is NOT DEAD!' and explain the concept of transcendence to him, but that may have been too much. he just asked a simple question, so natalie and i answered together, filling in each other's blanks, from whatever information we knew. the answer i initially said was 'drugs', but really, it was more than that. how do you explain this to a little child? when we mentioned the doctor giving you too much... he finished the sentence. "medicine?" yeah! we both answered. this would not really be lying. i don't believe in lying to children. it's important to answer them in ways they can grasp, though. and i was trying to grasp how to respond to his question. when we responded to his inquiry, a sad, puzzled look resulted on his face. he knew something was not right with what happened to you. right after this he informed us that his mother cried over you. he pointed his mother out, and i told him that i wanted to talk with her, which i did. she was quite sweet, and thanked me for coming over and speaking with her. marcus (her son) drew his interpretation of you. he then went over to play bongos with benny.

finally, there was a child whose presence really touched me- kevin. he was a bit quiet, and he constantly disappeared and returned. he seemed like such a sensitive child, but also got along well with others. he was so fascinated with your doll likeness... he examined it numerous times. he got so excited about it he ran off and showed his mother! in the book to you, he wrote: "R.I.P. Michael Jackson, God bless." i gave him a piece of cake, and he thanked me and said it was really good. as he was getting ready to leave, i told his mother how she had some beautiful children... she thanked me, then said they were really excited about seeing the dolls, and me. they called me 'the michael jackson lady'... it's so funny... all the parents mentioned how their kids just ADORED you!!! they overstood the goal you were trying hard to reach- the truth of love...

the day was winding down into evening, and 7:00 was approaching (the time the event was to be over). everyone finally left. rachel was the last person to leave, around 7 minutes to 7), and i wondered where all the time went? to conclude this day in your honor, i had a moment of silence, saying a prayer and expressing my gratitude for all the people who came into my life on this day, and for you.

as i began to clean (the park was full of chicken bones, forks and cake pieces on the ground) alan stops by. when everything was finally cleaned we leave the park together, conversing about life... we end up seeing two people being arrested by the portland police- one arrest we were not too sure of the reasoning; the other arrest was due to a DWI. the poor guy couldn't even lift his leg without falling... the police arrested him without any sort of resistance. alan took photographs of the arrest, as he documents incidents happening around MLK blvd. as we were talking about what just happened, a woman walks us to us (having just come from the supermarket across the street) and questions us. she asked if the man was wrongfully arrested. she then began to say she didn't trust us, because we were too clean-looking. she spoke about the government and the state of the world.

she then moved onto asking me what the armband i was wearing was about. when she saw that it was for you, she then defended your honor, then proceeded to tell me i was doing a good thing in honoring you, but i needed to make money in NOT focusing on your celebrity status. she then returned to speaking about the state of the world, the senate and why that system should be changed, and the coup in honduras. she moved around so much in what she was saying, and she never really stopped talking. we were there for what seemed like 40 minutes to an hour. i eventually left (having to go get lumbia some food; i thought alan was going to go with me, but he remained there speaking with her...

again! she seemed to be one of those people who just end up in your life... you don't know why, but they just do. and you learn a little something. she said so much, you had to connect dots and trim a little to get to the actual point. and when you finally realize the point, you learn something every time.

i am sure i have missed out so much about this day, and may have even gotten the order/timing of some things wrong; all i know is that this day- in your honor- was really special. i have been blessed with so many gifts on this day, it's virtually impossible to name them all. didn't you once allude to the fact that the best present of all was love?

well, i think you received an abundance of it on this day, where in this life you would have been 51... however, rather than celebrate the years which are NOT to be had in this form anymore, we should honor you by example. we should share what we have learned from you. we shall present you presents by remaining present...

and even through all of these tears i still shed, i thank you so very much, my dear teacher.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 40)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 11:21:00 +0000

i sure do need your smile right now...

i read the transcript to one of the speeches i had heard from you so long ago; the one where you spoke at oxford about the need for children to be loved, and for families to become units again. reading it gave me so much joy, because this is the person i love, and learn from... this is the person who has lived through much pain, but is looking for ways to find a place for healing. this is the person who constantly looked to the truth in love.

i love this speech, because i saw you working through so much in your own life. you used your work with children as a vehicle to deal with and make amends with the 'disappointments and confusions' in your life. despite this, there still seemed to be such a fog you could not see through.

and even with all the joy i have gotten from reading the transcript, i still feel this ultimate sadness, not just about you, but for myself... every time i feel like i am getting better emotionally, there is a fog witch returns.

so i need to feel your smile right now, dear teacher.

i have been feeling so overwhelmed working on this radio show for you, i got extremely nervous/anxious about it. i just kept thinking of the worst scenarios to occur, before and during the show... all day i had butterflies. i have not been this nervous about a show since i first started doing the show... i felt a mixture of wanting to throw up, and losing my appetite.

so now, the show is done... it has aired. i have no idea really who listened to it. i suppose i can say that i feel a sense of accomplishment now, after working on it for almost a month, but i don't. i still have anxiety over the show, i still have worry; even though it's already aired. i just need to hear one response, to know if i have done you any justice.

it's like every other week i get responses... and now this time it's not the same.

on my way to the station i stopped for a pedestrian at a crosswalk... for the second time a pedestrian told me to go, instead of having me wait for them. this time was different. this woman (most likely around my age) let me pass, but she walked as i began to ride. she approached me and she exclaimed, 'you are so pretty!!!' then walked off. it sort of threw me off... i mean, people tell me that sort of thing, that i'm pretty. but this time, in the anxious state i was in, it threw me off more than usual (and it usually does throw me off). i just wanted to cry out, 'but you don't even know what i look like, i am wearing sunglasses!' i wanted to say that i don't look as pretty without them.

and i began to think about you, and how all these people thought you were beautiful, but you didn't seem to think that way about yourself (most likely due to being told the opposite growing up). i grew up like that... i know people say that it's easy to just not believe all these things you are told when you were a kid; but when you've had it drilled into you for so long, it's not that easy to unlearn it. i still struggle with people giving me compliments about my looks, because i don't see what they see.

and whenever i see footage of you pinning your eyes to the floor whenever someone gave you a compliment on your looks, i see myself in that.

and after she told me that i was pretty, i rode my bicycle and i cried.

and as i keep saying, for me it doesn't even matter what you look like... i find such beauty within you, that it transfers to the outside. through your sad, beautiful eyes. i'm not too concerned with what you look like. except for the fact that i was really concerned that you were too skinny. you were such a tiny man. i was really worried for you. that smile of yours was so beautiful. the way it radiates a room...

and i am looking for it right now...

and i went home and looked into your eyes and asked you if you heard the show at all. i really need to know if i did a good job; if you were humanized, at least a little bit.

my anxiety has yet to end, as there is still the event on saturday- YOUR day... will your spirit be all over the park, and all over the WORLD, on this day?

maybe i will hear from you then...i will look for the rainbow (without rain) in the sky...

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 39)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 06:54:00 +0000

i have finally finished the show to you, to be aired on thursday... it took a lot out of me to do. but it was worth it, i think... i put a lot of love into it. i'm sure you've listened to it already in some form (i've listened to it in what seems to be dozens of times at this point, to make sure it sounds okay for the airwaves)... i really hope you like it.

it has been TWO MONTHS exactly, and i am still sitting here crying right now... in the midst of finishing up the show in the studio this morning i started crying, singing along with you. i made some on-air statement for the show, in terms of how i feel about you. but everything i said seems so wrong. it's as if more should be said, or not what i ended up saying. it's as if ANYTHING i said would have come out wrong anyways. or, anything i would have said would not necessarily be overstood. there was so much i wanted to say to you, but i could not think to say it at the time. i wanted to really speak more in depth on what you've done for me, and what you mean to me, but everything i would have said would seem so small and insignificant. yes, i realize it's the sentiment that counts, but still... i just feel like there is something missing. my hope is that people really get a sense of why i feel the way i do through my words, and through listening closely to you.

i am really nervous to put the show on... it is this gift i have given from my heart and i want to share it with others. but i am still nervous because it is going out to so many people. i don't really know what this nervousness and fear is about. i suppose i do, but i can't put my finger on it. and i think part of it is, the closer this day approaches, and the more i see you; the more i realize i truly love and care about you. and this makes me cry even more. and i just want to do the best job i can with this show.

i have done this before, done shows for you. but now, it's in a whole different context. i pre-produced the show because i don't want to cry live over the air. and i think on thursday i'm gonna be in the air room by myself. i really hope you like your gift, dear teacher...

i want to support something positive, amongst all this negativity right now... yesterday, people kept asking me if i heard the news... i still cannot see 'those three words' together without feeling a sort of sickness. but those words are everywhere. to me, you HAVE NOT... 'died'... you are still here, your spirit watching over us, waiting to see if your message will finally be heard. but all of this news (which i have been very adamant about not wanting to hear since your transcendence) keeps being relayed to me...

'have you heard the news?' of course it's about you so they volunteer to inform me of what they have learned. 'it was ruled a homicide'... teacher, i am just going to step outside of all the arguments supporting this statement and be the 'odd man out'. deep in my heart i don't believe it's a homicide. people want to bring me into all of this negativity so i feel i will respond to it, slightly. i was not there, but i don't know if i believe you were purposely murdered. once again (as you are all too familiar with) this is someone's livelihood that's being dealt with. sure, the doctor should certainly take responsibility in this situation (as you were under his care) but as high-profile of a patient you were, would he really ruin his life to purposefully end yours? something does not sound right to me. please let me know if i am wrong about this, dear teacher.

but!

your day is happening in just a few days... on this plane you would have been 51. now, even though your spirit still surrounds us your life has taken on a new form; you have been born into someone else. i will continue to honor you in the form i met you in, and continue to learn from you in your new form, as well as the prior one.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 38)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 07:20:00 +0000

i haven't had much time to breathe, preparing for events in your honor... i have been working as much as i can, till sunrise, on the radio show; and i finally got a poster done, to let people know of the event coming on your day, in the park. people seem pretty excited about both things... it's a bit sad to me that i didn't see this much excitement when you were still physically here. but as they say, in 'death' it takes many to truly see a person.

i felt a bit disoriented towards the end of the night, but overall i had a feeling it would be a good day. to be honest, i think it was your smile. it's one of the things to keep me going as of late, besides lumbia. to hear your laugh in my head makes me smile. i have to go back to those videos once in a while, where you're just laughing all over the place. and then i think about all the times i've had a good laugh... i mean, a huge belly laugh, where i can't stop laughing. i don't even know if you knew how healing your smile and your laugh are.

in editing for the radio show i have been listening to your lyrics a bit closer than i have been (and i usally listen pretty closely), and it seems to me that your smile kept you from feeling the absolute pain of the words you sing as well. as you were dancing and fidgeting at the microphone when you sang these songs (i can hear you snapping in between the drum beats) i wondered what was going on in your head, and if you thought happy thoughts to keep you from crying.

natalie told me she contacted you again, and she let me know you are doing fine. she said that your kids are fine too. i still worry about you sometimes, and i have to be reminded that you are doing okay...

she told me that you said it's okay that i finish the book. IS THAT TRUE? should i really finish it? please give me some sort of sign, so i know that is okay with you... i don't want you to think i am taking advantage of you in any way.

i heard your name being called again at work today. i am still trying to figure out if that is you calling me, or another one of the ancestors... i've been so busy working on the show i didn't hear anyone calling for a little bit. even though we haven't talked for a bit (in this fashion), i'm sure you know i think of you constantly.

i keep thinking about what i would say to you if you were still physically here... i really wanted you to read the book. i wanted to know from you if i did it any justice. i wanted to tell you (in person) that you are such a beautiful person, and what lies there in your eyes is more beautiful than any physical alteration. that may sound awkward; it's one of those things where i know what i want to say but how i said it would make or break how you felt about me... this is why i wanted you to read the book.

i suspect that each blog entry i write could be seen as a chapter in the book of life with you. however, this is me just trying to deal... yes, yes, i know the book i was in the process of writing was a way of dealing as well, but as i said before, i know what i want to say. this is a whole 'nother part of life i wasn't emotionally prepared to deal with. and now i am just taking it as it comes.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 37)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 13:22:00 +0000

it usually happens when i am alone... i hear someone calling out your name. it's with more frequency now than when i was in the midst of heavily writing the book. now, i hear it about every other day or so. it happens when i am sitting here typing, or at work, or riding my bicycle. sometimes it's a soft whisper; other times it's just a flash, and i can't figure out what voice it is. i know that when i was writing the book and heard your name it definitely was not you calling me. but now, i am wondering if it's you (saying your own name?). or was it the ancestors the whole time bringing you to consciousness, in order to further connect with you. was it them guiding the vivid dreams i had with you, or was it simply the fact that you've weighed so heavily on my mind for two years? the dreams don't happen now; and when they do they are inconsistent in their content. but your name is still there.

there is so much contradiction and confusion as to how i feel about you now. this could be why your name is being called at a more consistent rate now- to get me to focus. ultimately, i am actually at the point where i can say with conviction that i am truly happy for you now. in my heart i know you are at peace. i know you are free from all the troubles of this plane. but there still lies a sadness so deep. there is a sadness which is paralyzing, in a way. i still need to hear from you in order to truly feel better. i need to know that writing the book is okay. i need to know your children are okay. i need to speak with you, just like that last time you spoke with me for that moment, and told me that i will 'know what to do'...

the root of my sadness is even deeper. yesterday, as i was thinking about how happy i was for you for being on a more peaceful plane (after having another stimulating conversation with natalie) i saw a friend of mine who i recently had a difficult time with. we got so close so fast, and we shared an intense friendship over time. but the paths in terms of where each of us desired the relationship to go crossed. i desired more commitment, and she felt she needed more space. this created a distance in our relationship, to the point where the range hit between silence and civility. things are more or less better between us now, but things most likely will never return to how they were. we are on friendly terms. i love her and if anything were to happen to her i'd be heartbroken, because i value the experiences we've shared, and she means a lot to me. all i can think about now though, is that i don't want any sort of intense relationship in my life; because i most likely will end up feeling rejected or abused. i have issues with trust (i acknowledge that), and if i meet someone i feel i can trust enough i will commit myself to my half of the relationship. my frustration is that i don't feel that i get the same commitment in return. so it makes me withdraw and refuse to make any deep connections with others.

one of the things which has been said about me is that i am a person who most likely uses logic; i am a person who relies on the head and not 'the heart', as a reaction to how i feel i have been treated in my life, particularly my childhood. there is some validity to this: whenever i open my heart really deeply i end up feeling rejected, simple as that. i don't want to appear vulnerable to 'the outside world' because i don't want the world to take advantage of me. i felt your pain when you shared this sentiment. you opened yourself up more to that vulnerability, more than i think even you imagined. one of the ways people who lived with some kind of trauma or abuse is to stay guarded. you did this for the most part, but by nature of you being one of the greatest public figures you opened yourself up. in your own way you've made yourself accessible. i don't think people caught on to this while you were physically here; and so now people are asking, 'what was he like? what DID he like?'

this is what creates the conflict i have with you. we have shared a type of relationship so instantly; a relationship which can appear to be one-sided to anyone outside the relationship. the more i learned about you; the more i became connected with you (through the connections of how we grew up), the closer i became to you. some may view this psychic relationship as bearing no weight (as we did not physically know each other). but in learning more about you- paying attention to your words, and the silence of your body language (and your eyes) i began to truly love you. and the love i felt for you coincided with this anger i felt for you (and the anger i felt for myself). it was may of last year where i openly acknowledged that i loved you, yet i was still exploring the depths of that love.

my love for you was so deep that it did consist of the intensity that either a parent, a child or a partner has for someone. you were my companion for two years. i have shared so much with you. now that you have travelled to another plane i feel like i can never share that experience with anyone else. i feel like i can never love again. this most likely will sound ridiculous to many- 'what are you talking about, you didn't even KNOW him'- but it's entirely difficult to explain. the tears i shed were not for you as 'MJ, the guy who made thriller'. it was for the person i shared my life with for two years.

and the root of my conflict in finishing the book is not only in my desire to not be part of the onslaught of books capitalizing off your name now; but it is also the fear in sharing with others what i have shared with you, in context of your transition. there are so many people coming out and saying they now recognize your humanity. but i don't want what i write to be lost in all of the 'sudden revelation' stories... i don't want my experiences with you to be trivialized. one thing i could do is just finish it and keep everything to myself (i WOULD NOT feel right about that; i'd rather just not finish it). the other option is to finish it and share it with people who already were aware of the work i was putting into it. with this, i could be missing out on connecting with others who have shared similar experiences as you or i.

the option i feel which is left is to just finish it and publicly release it. i have great reservations, due to what i just mentioned- i don't want to capitalize off of your name. this is why i consistently ask you for guidance in this situation.

i want to make sure that future generations are able to take from what you have taught me, and can progress to find ways to heal from generations of the cycles of abuse... i want to be sure that kids like the ones i met yesterday are able to continue their search for wonder, even in adulthood.

at my work there were these kids running around- there was one kid who obviously was the dominant one in the family. he is six years old. he went over with his sister, to the 'alter' (for lack of a better term) i have for you, and he was amazed... the kids are usually the first ones to see it. they recognize the child in you, i think... he says (not even that loudly) 'i love michael jackson'. my 'MJ radar' went off, and i said, 'i do too!' he looked back at me, surprised to know i was listening. he then talks about all the dolls, and the pictures. his mother comes over and is also amazed by the alter. she mentions her son's love for you, and how whenever he hears your songs on the radio he wants to know everything about them. he had all of these questions, and i answered them to the best of my ability. he and his sister were standing there for a good 20 minutes to a half hour, talking about you.

when they were getting ready to leave, he and his sister were still standing near the alter, but he ran up to his mother (as if on cue) and asked her if you've ever been to jail. she looked at him curiously, and i answered, 'no.' i think there was a look of relief on his face, and she mentioned that i had a lot of answers, and that if he had a question he should get a hold of me. i hear that from a lot of people... as they were leaving she thanked me for sharing information.

i then realized that you had briefly been to jail, after you were arrested on the first charge in 1993, i believe. the kid's excitement lead me to say no, because i had either blocked out that moment or forgotten. subconsciously i may also have wanted to not shatter his love for you. but somehow i did not remember you went to jail. how could i have forgotten that, i asked myself.

after my response to him and i realized my error, i looked at this situation logically (there's that old logic again): you may have been handcuffed but you did not get charged with what you were arrested for, so technically you were not in jail. but does that make sense? because you did indeed get arrested. and then i began to feel bad because even if i did so on accident i gave that kid the wrong information. i don't want the kid to come back to me and think i was lying to him, because i wasn't. my intention was not to lie. i don't want that kid to hate me. i think a response which came out of this was not to worry too much about it, because that kid should not be subjected to that sort of news. still, i don't want the kid to think of me as a liar. and i don't want to inspire the pattern of lying for this kid either.

i really hope i get to see this kid again, so i can correct my mistake. we can't bring the past back but we can correct mistakes.

so still, my days are filled with the momentary contradictions of sadness and happiness, at times merging with one another.

every day is a new opportunity to learn. and even in your transcendence i learn.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 36)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 11:13:00 +0000

today was a bit more of a challenging day... not necessarily because of anything specifically related to you; but at the same time it is related to you. with all of the excitement around being with kids, and all the spontaneity yesterday, i went back in the world with 'adults' (aka 'work'). i do really like where i work, but i admit that it's hard to deal with people, because of the culture of apology. PEOPLE APOLOGIZE TOO MUCH FOR THINGS THERE'S NO NEED TO BE SORRY FOR. i know i speak of the cycle of violence in more concrete terms; but this culture is so pervasive in a way which extends beyond the more obvious forms of violence.

where does this culture of apology come from? was there a place in our childhoods where we lost self-direction and autonomy? what place is this, where even in adulthood we need approval/validation/permission to do things THAT WILL NOT HINDER ANYONE ELSE? how did we become so self-wallowing as a culture, to the point where if there is no permission granted, then we feel we are somehow in the way, or causing harm? when did we lose our sense of assertiveness as a culture?

it's assumed by more than enough people that assertiveness is the same thing as aggressiveness, when that is hardly the case. of course those two things can merge; but assertiveness implies a sense of self-control and responsibility. aggressiveness is making attempts to wield power or control over a situation or thing; possibly due to the lack of control one has in life. i am prompted in finding out more about this whole thing now.

when you made all of those business moves did you feel as sense of assertiveness or aggressiveness? which moves had more to do as a reaction of how you grew up, and which ones were a reaction to what you've seen in the industry? people always saw your actions out front as being weak (due to your quiet demeanor and soft voice). one of the things i've admired about you though, is your ability to control a situation even WITH that voice. i never saw you raise your voice when in a conference; and in performing on stage your speaking voice was raised only slightly. you are definitely an aggressive performer; an angry one (as fred astaire used to say), but it was a sort of aggressiveness that was an aspect of your performance. it didn't extend beyond the stage. it kept people on their toes. in terms of asserting your power... yes, that definitely moved beyond the stage. you were no joke with that. being a young guy making all those moves you did, that is pretty amazing.

still... what is the root of all you did? what line was there for you between assertiveness and aggressiveness?

this is something i am struggling with in living here in the northwestern part of the country. and the more i struggle with it the more it makes me love kids, with their honesty and the lack of hangups they have.

see what you've done, teacher?

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 35)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 10:30:00 +0000

i'd love to say 'i wished you were here' but the thing is, i know you were... i know you saw how beautifully the day went- in fact, i was the best day i have had since you... transcended. it was a day you would have reveled in, had you physically been here. it was the first time i actually saw portland, oregon filled with so much love and community.

i spent a portion of the day anticipating seeing your performance as the scarecrow again. i can't emphasize enough how much warmth you brought to that character... the second time within a week, you ask? this time it was free, in a park. it was related to an event where communities could get together and know each other. that was the idea(l). i went by the park to see where the film was playing, and i saw so many children happily playing without a care. the adults created a water slide for them to play on; there would be a man spraying the slide as the kids passed by.

before i went to the park i went to the veterinarian so i could change the date for lumbia's appointment (she's due for a checkup soon). the office appeared to be closed a half-hour early. i was confounded by this but i trudged on, as the park was in close vicinity anyway. as i was walking i heard a conversation happening about 'the wiz'... something to the effect of, 'yeah, diana ross and michael jackson are in it. and he had a big afro.' they didn't seem to remember who else was in it. i walked across the street and i informed them that i heard them speaking of 'the wiz'. one of the women sitting outside mentioned they were thinking about going to see it in the park. my eyes lit up and i opined that they should go. the woman asked me if i remembered who else was in it, besides you and diana ross. i did mention some other names, and i spoke of my love for you. i told them i was putting on an event for you in the park at the end of the month, as well as doing a radio show. i also mentioned that i had been writing a book for two years.

in the midst of conversation a tiny toddler walked up close to me and said, 'we are gonna go see mikah jakson tonight!' i just fell in love right there. it's amazing how little kids who may not even realize the wealth of your art get so excited about you. i think they know anyone who seeks the truth of love, whether or not they physically know that person. i showed everyone the shirt i was wearing with your likeness (as i was displaying my love) and one of the older children said to me that she loved my jewelry. she asked me if i was hot, with all the clothes i was wearing (i am quite fond of layers; besides, it doesn't really get THAT hot here). i told her that i was from new york, so the weather we were having was not that hot at all. she mentioned that she was going to a wedding, and was going through the desert to get there. she also mentioned that she was working on her bicycle because by the time they would get back from the film it would be dark.

i bid them all adieu, and hoped i'd see them at the park later on. as i continued on i ran into a pair of brothers, who were just messing around as brothers (who were about the same age) are want to do in the middle of a summer's day... when i see children i usually say hello to them. but these two beat me to it. in ever a playful mood they both eagerly waved hello to me. with the same excitedness i waved back. i told them hello in spanish; i though i had heard them speak to me in spanish, so i responded accordingly. i also asked how they were in spanish. their mother (or adult companion) smiled with a sort of comfort, or amusement. i began to run, and the kids ran with me. they kept waving hello, and i kept waving back. it was one of the most touching moments i've ever had in my life.

whenever i have these moments with children i recognize the light you had in your eyes...

in between all of this and going to see the film i went to run errands, you know, the 'adult stuff'... i went to my work to pick up some food to eat during the film and i saw a young man with his trousers extremely baggy (so much where they were on his legs as opposed to his waist). personally i don't find that to be very attractive. and taking with the socio-political history of the 'sagging trousers', i am not sure i get why others find it attractive. (i'm not sure if anyone told you that bit of history, as you came from a generation which did not wear their trousers like that. but the 'sagging trousers' derive from when black boys and men were hung on trees, where a large portion of the town would celebrate their hanging. as part of this celebration, the one who was hanged would have their privates cut off. the trousers would be let to hang so as to show their 'manhood' had been taken away).

this is so intriguing to me, when it comes to you, teacher... people would always say things about you, about how you were 'less of a man' than other men, because of some of the things you said or did, without looking at WHY you may have done some of those things. yet so many others do things which have a history of pain attached to us. people wear really large trousers so as not to fit on them, perhaps as a reaction to 'tight pants' (which are said to be 'not manly' it is a psychological manliness, so to speak... however, the style of pants they DO wear has a real, physical history of 'manhood-snatching'. life's ironies can be quite funny sometimes.

with this i saw the young man outside, and i said to him matter-of-factly, 'pull up your pants, young man'. i felt like a parent. the young man (he looked to be around my age) turned around and responded, "oh, you're checking me out? you think i'm sexy?" i said, "nope. i'm just saying to pull your pants up." there is a time and a place to explain these histories to people... everyone is not always receptive to what you will give them. body language is everything. however, he was receptive to my statement, and when he realized i was serious (but not condescending) he gave me a look and pulled his trousers up a bit (if not all the way). if i see him again i'd love to speak with him about the histories of this style. i wonder if he thought about the consequences of his actions as he pulled them up. perhaps so, perhaps not.

one thing i am learning more and more (i knew this but i had lost it over the years) is that you must open yourself up to giving people the benefit of the doubt. this opens up to spontaneity. i am not so sure if anybody would have told him to pull his pants up. people just ride off folks who dress a certain way as being socially insignificant, and the base of these relationships are of fear. if you are to move about in the world with a desire for 'true freedom' you have to lose so much of the fear. was he receptive to my comment about his trousers because i called him 'young man'? i don't know. but my hope is that i created some sort of an impact (particularly with my matter-of-factness).

it is also curious that he associated my comment about his trousers as having some sort of sexual connotation. we have become so conditioned in this society to believe any and every gaze is either set for mating or violence. we aren't allowed to just be. i don't know how you coped with all of that, teacher... i realize you used a lot of that energy as part of your performance; but in your private life i'm sure it was difficult for you to always be put in a position to take sides, when asked if you were in a 'relationship'. of COURSE you were in a relationship. you've had many: with fans, with friends, with family. but people hardly asked you about that. it was always, do you have a girlfriend? do you want to be married... as if those types of relationships guarantee more happiness or satisfaction than the platonic or familial kinds. i've been put in that position as well, but obviously not like you have.

anyways, back to the park... the sun was getting ready to set for the film to be watched, and there were SO many kids! my heart just melted. there were so many kids there to see the brilliance of your art. i take the doll of your likeness out, and the kids loved it! i think some of them found it a bit strange a 'big person' like me would have a doll (which i carry around everywhere with me), but nevertheless they were fascinated!!! they would go 'is that michael jackson?', and the parents (all mothers) would laugh. there was one really small child (one who just learned some body parts) who enjoyed the doll tremendously. when i asked where the doll's head was, he pointed to it! when asked about the nose, he pointed as well... he kept holding the doll's hand. it was wonderful. devin (one of the people i went with-both devin and rebecca went spontaneously with me) told me i was really good with kids. i don't know about that; i just know i love them.

the movie began, and as the opening credits rolled your name came up... everybody clapped! i think it's funny that now you are no longer physically here, people realize the greatness of your art. or were they simply paying respects? either way, it's a good thing.

i danced the whole time during all the songs, and i said the lines right along with you. i anticipated your entrance as the scarecrow (everyone clapped again after your introductory song) and i felt sad after your exit. i cried a bit more this time, because the concept of 'home' meant so much more to me on this day. even devin cried a bit. when dorothy returned home after her experience, i knew. i just knew. i rode home on my bicycle singing the song out loud, and i cried a bit there as well. i got home (no pun intended), i listened to the song on the turntable, and tears streamed down my face.

all of the wonder of children, and the spontaneity of the day was home for me, if just for that moment. and i looked over to my right as i was riding home, and i saw you there; you were smiling. i know i saw you smiling.

thank you for being there with all of us on this day.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 34)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 09:19:00 +0000

when one transcends, a new life is born. that doesn't discount the life of the one who has transcended; instead this should encourage us to take what we have learned from those who left this plane and apply it to the next generation.

i spoke with my mother yesterday (she loves the phone as much as i do, sarcastically speaking). she told me that it was good i was sounding better. she was worried about me as well, and called a few times to check up on me. i told her that i was sad, but i am feeling better (some days i feel better than others in relations to you but as i said, i can laugh these days. and that's a good thing). she then spoke about how you were all over the news. she was inundated with information about you. i responded with stating, the reason i feel better is because i don't pay attention to the news. she opined that it was a good thing i don't pay attention to the news.

i spoke with my aunt too... she knows what it is like to lose someone close to her; she lost a son by gunshot. my once-extremely optimistic aunt became inconsolable around this time, and i felt at a loss as to how i could help her. i lost a cat friend around this time as well (due to cancer), and i was devastated by that. this was a few years ago, and she is feeling much better about life now.

i will not state the old cliche of life being precious; in a funny way, preciousness would require a neglect of the struggles. preciousness requires that we hold our lives so delicately as to not be broken. but we are broken in so many ways, due to cycles of violence we act out in so many ways- from the minute to the epidemic.

of course, the word precious ultimately defines worthiness or something of high value (which is how we should treat each other, and ourselves). however, when we view something as precious we handle it so delicately, like a fine piece of glass, or artwork. therefore for me, when i look at the value of life i want to examine all of it. when we look at both the good and the bad, some glass may break along the way, if we are to truly halt this conditioning of the cycle of violence.

this begins with us examining what we have learned from those who are still here, and those who have transcended. we take what we have learned, and we provide the next generation with a better framework and overstanding of ceasing this cycle.

i would like to emphasize that it is we who are fragile (a word attributed to something which is precious, like glass), not life itself. when we transcend, life will still be here. life has many tales to tell of our fragility. we can just "follow the pattern of the wind"...

i spoke with my niece as well yesterday... i think the state of youth is definitely precious, yet those who make up the youthful generations have strength enough to withstand the direct effects of the cycles of violence, if they are surrounded by a stronger force of love. i see my niece in this way.

she has spent a significant part of her life with my mother, who is of course, MY mother. my mother has done a tremendous amount of healing work (particularly since her husband transcended) but still, she is so rooted in negativity and 'the cycle' that she seems reluctant to move beyond a sort of hopelessness. my mother has so much potential... but as you know, you can't make anyone do anything they don't wanna do. my niece though, despite some negative environments she may encounter, is growing to realize her potential more and more.

she had a stage where she hated her hair and parts of her physical self (i recognize this pattern and i'm sure you do too, teacher); but she's become so occupied with artistic activities (like dance and music lessons) that she appears to have surpassed this stage. that precious little one is growing up to have an armour of strength and autonomy. i know she will make it out a lot better than you or i did, teacher. this is the biggest gift of all- to know the next generation will succeed, both mentally and physically.

i spoke with her the day after her day of birth. i know she struggles emotionally sometimes (she is still a recipient of the cycle of violence in some ways- i've spoken to her when she was in tears), but even through her sadness she shines. she was adamant that she wanted to come to visit me. i told her that i wanted to see her too, and that we would work it out. the last time i saw her, she was about 5 years old. we shared some laughs some smiles (i asked her how tall she was and she said she didn't know) and some initial stages of plan making... most of all we shared love.

we can never let moments such as that slip away... i know you knew that... i see the images of you with children, and i saw the peace on your face. i saw how you accepted the gifts they shared with you from their hearts, and the hands and kisses you placed upon their heads for comfort. despite your stature as a public figure, when you've done this it did not echo political opportunism.

is it possible your love for children may have stemmed from your experiences at the hands of the cycle of abuse? you openly felt that children represented the 'face of GOD'; but some of these 'faces' have also lived in the same or similar cycle as you or i. that would be up to us to inform them of the alternatives to the cycle. and to not give up on them when they leave childhood. we can't leave them, when we know that there is a world out there which anticipates their failure, and discourages autonomy and community.

when you transcended you created a new awareness... there were suddenly hundreds of people acknowledging your humanity and making those connections between you and the cycle you grew up in. for better or for worse, they were still doing it. at times i have gotten frustrated and i ask, 'why didn't the lot of you vocalize his humanity when he was physically here?!' i become so weary thinking about that. i try to think, well, to humanize you now is better than not doing it at all. still, it makes me wonder how much we value each other whilst we are still sitting here amongst each other.

and i get weary sometimes as well, when people come up to me and send me their condolences (believe it or not, it's still happening to this day). because it never leads to a discussion about what you mean to them, or about the larger consequences of your life and transcendence. so i am left just going, 'thank you, thank you...' i see such potential in discussing the larger picture, because so many people have a point of reference when it comes to you. it may not be all the same, but we can start somewhere. and when we start we can learn from each other.

i am learning how even though we are so vulnerable/fragile, life supports us in the best way possible; but life cannot do it alone. the best example i can give is the plant i mentioned to you so long ago, teacher... the plant which recently blossomed a fourth leaf is now sprouting a fifth bud. after all this time of nothing growing, within months there happened to now be two leaves. somehow the plant may have felt enough love or care around, in order to grow new leaves so suddenly. i can only hope this is the case.

such is the wonder and strength of life... even though you are not physically here i feel you speaking to this; you have left a legacy we can all grow from. those of us still here can create a positive impact and encourage the next generation so they live better than previous generations- with the knowledge they are surrounded by love at all times.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 33)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 09:43:00 +0000

people will never let me forget...

for some people i will forever be associated with you. someone said to me today, "when i heard the news i wasn't concerned about michael, i was concerned about YOU!" his concern for me, like most people who have approached me in this way, seemingly may be related to the slight hope that i did not become so distraught that i hurt myself over you. body and face language; and tones are important to determine cues which are not so vocal. i was also the first person he thought of when he heard the news, he said. i am still receiving this commentary, teacher...

it looks like i'm stuck with you... i may be having these conversations with you for a while.

i keep thinking of your eyes. those phenomenally beautiful eyes. and i just thought of an exercise i learned when i was training to be a yoga teacher some years ago: a meditation in trust, where you just stare into someones eyes for a period of time. when i first learned this exercise i cannot tell you how extremely difficult this was to do. but if i was to be a confident teacher i had to test myself. looking into someone's eyes, and having them look into yours with full attention (and intention) is difficult because it requires that we maintain some level of vulnerability. this is a huge aspect in trust.

you know the test where you fall back to see if the person behind you will catch you? i'm sure you know about that one, teacher. you have to be vulnerable enough to allow yourself to willingly fall, and trust you will be supported. the eyes are the same way. you have to trust you are able to be vulnerable with someone who will not steal your soul. it took me a very long time to look into someone's eyes for long periods of time in conversation. i have not done the staring meditation in years (and i have not taught yoga classes in years). no other classes i have been to do not utilize this form of meditation.

in a world (and sometimes familial situations) which consistently deprives of of reaching our full potential (and in the process ravages the soul) it always feels safer to look down, eyes fixed on the ground. as a popular figure you stared into the camera's gaze. you trained yourself to look at the interviewer. however, there are many times where you were lost for words or you were uncomfortable- these are the moments your eyes dart across the room, remain locked to whatever object you can stare at... or you just wore sunglasses. and occasionally took them off "for the girls in the balcony".

i look into your eyes all the time, as much as i can. is it a trust issue with me? not necessarily, as we've never met in person. but i can say i learned a lot about my vulnerability through looking at you. looking into your eyes has given me a better ability to look at others... because i have been talking so much about your transcendence. when i look into people's eyes i can feel your spirit there. i cannot say that you are always there, but i know you are speaking to (and through) people in some way.

the person who shared his concern with me mentioned how disturbing it was, that there was a poetic beauty in the 'good dying young'... he opined that those who were inherently good left this world violently; the beauty/irony of their 'deaths' lends even more to their goodness.

later on i see a message from a friend of mine, stating that he just heard your song, 'they don't care about us' for the first time... it seems as if from his writing this statement he never saw you in a political context (only a popular culture one), so he never really examined the impact you made, on all ends. i responded to him that you are underrated as an artist, and that your political voice has been severely overlooked/disregarded. you may not have considered yourself to be a political person, but you have made such an impact on others (including my friend) with songs like 'they don't care about us'. you continue to open eyes with your messages every day, even after your transcendence.

every day i look at you with new eyes; they are open and ready to learn some more. and i will never forget.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 32)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 05:23:00 +0000

there is a line in a ramones song that is so relevant to you right now: "i want you to stay/but i guess it just can't be that way"... i realize that everyone must go- and of course people always go before we want them to. but as you once sang, "even though we're not together, i'll cherish my experience with you." this is why music will always be so relevant: it is the great narrator of universal struggles and joys. and the music you created will always be with us.

still, as i mentioned before, listening to some of your songs is not easy to do right now. and in writing to you every day i don't listen to any music at all. i'd like this moment to be just between us, with no distraction. a meditation in writing, so to speak.

in watching 'the wiz' tonight on a 35mm print on the screen (much better than watching the DVD i have) tears were coming to my eyes, because i knew the outcome of the film: that you would fade out, never to be seen again (until the next time i watch the film). it's like watching james brown's feet when you were a kid... you got mad at the cameraman whenever they lost the focus on his feet. i love looking at your eyes so much, how they'd be filled with so much, care, concern and sadness. like in the scene where you were saying goodbye to diana ross' dorothy and instead of using a quote from a philosopher or famous figure you used your brain to say: "success, fame and fortune. they're all illusions." you used your heart to continue that statement by saying that nothing is more important than a companionship that two people share. you found the courage to say this, despite never having made such a profound statement without quoting others.

you truly encompassed all of the characters.

(tonight, i did dress up with you in mind... inevitably getting the comments and photo requests. there were two older gentlemen who sat in front of us in the cinema, and after the film one of them asked if i usually make appearances... i told him that this is something i do all the time- this is my life).

i wrote an essay on the film at some point last year; i wrote about how i kept pausing at your image, looking into your eyes... how you gave nipsey russell's tinman an empathetic glance when he spoke of his desire for vulnerability in his life. watching the film i could only imagine certain lines or gestures you related to your own life at the time... i wonder if you thought, what WOULD you do, if people actually allowed you to feel, as opposed to being a performance automaton- this is not to say you were forced into performing. you loved performing very much; it was a safety net for you. but for many years you also didn't have the creative autonomy you desired. people did not see the tears behind the smiles as you performed.

and your line about "success, fame and fortune" all being illusions... did you take that to heart as well? because that seems to be the one thing you consistently told yourself, taking cues from a person your scarecrow quoted in the film: p.t. barnum. those things may all be illusions, but you utilized barnum's 'sucker born every minute' insight to the best of your abilities. you recognized and gave credence to the trappings of celebrity/popular culture yet struggled with it simultaneously. you felt that even though you could reach masses around the world with your status, you were at a disadvantage in terms of inter-personal relations with people outside of the world you cultivated your craft in.

i do wish you felt you had a sense of balance in your life, so that you were able to form significant inter-personal relationships with others outside of those who may have lived a similar life as you. i have also mentioned before that i don't think you believed in yourself, as others have believed in you. this was part of your eternal struggle, as the 'king of pop'. was the name barnum-like title constructed and applied in order to contradict any doubts you had about yourself? would you acknowledge or deny that anything you've done in your career correlating with such a grand title may have been slightly dictated by your struggles with self-esteem?

i don't particularly like to emphasize your role as a popular culture figure, because you meant much more to me than that. that is not necessarily how i see you. but inevitably i must acknowledge this, as that is how you spent a majority of your life; your need for a satisfactory companionship appeared to be compromised by your role as this kind of figure.

when i see you in 'the wiz' i recognize your struggle for creative autonomy. i am in awe when i watch you... you have grasped the technique of classic slapstick, and have displayed that 'jazz sensibility'. you channeled the hollers of our elders in the blues. you have mastered the qualities of the 'tragicomic' in this film, in ways not many others have mastered. you can moan the blues and have dancing crows to assist you in your lament, but that doesn't make your statement any less valid or remarkable. it only makes me like you more.

i hang on to every word you say in watching you as the scarecrow, because i know you are going to go away. i wished so much to have a pause button tonight, as i recited the lines right along with you. i wished to just keep looking into your eyes. and when dorothy began to say goodbye to you, the tinman and the lion my eyes began to water. not only because the message of the film finally comes to light; but also because i knew it was time for you to go. and the way you so lovingly looked at dorothy, i saw such a bond of years of experience there between you and diana, for better or for worse. what i saw in your eyes was true sincerity. i can't even describe how much watching that little scene meant to me. as dorothy sang about returning home i sang along with her, never wanting the song to end. because you then faded away in the background as one of the many she came to share her experience with. i wanted to pause these moments and take them home with me as i rode home. i wanted you to stay.

but i know that it can't be that way.

yes, i still struggle with you not being here. but "even though i feel so bad... inside" as you once sang, i can always take what you have taught me and apply it to the world... i can always return to your wisdom and humility as the scarecrow, which was also an extension of yourself (and i have the DVD so i can always pause).

i will pause and have these moments with you, because i am appreciative...

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 31)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 08:01:00 +0000

it is exactly one month before your 51st day... i am sure there will be plenty of people honoring you on that day- me being one of those people. i know you didn't really celebrate those kinds of days for many years (as your spiritual practise did not allow for such events); i do not celebrate my own day either (as every day you wake up you are born). but i do not mind taking some time out to celebrate a day you were brought to us on this planet. you are my teacher, and i want to honor you accordingly.

i know you will be there with your children on that day, as you are with them every day... i am sure you know it will be a difficult time for them, as they reminisce over the virtues of your parenting skills, or how you made them laugh in front of their friends. and even though this pain, this loss is very real for them right now... when the 29th of august comes around they will remember how you shared your day with them, and they will most likely further grieve your loss. there have been times you shared this day with the world. people have reached out to you, presenting you giant cakes, cards and well wishes. there will be tears on this day. my hope is that there will also be love.

i don't think it's necessary you get a national holiday. anyone already celebrating your day will continue to do so. your name does not have to be publicly officiated by any governments to recognize the global impact you've made. we should have already seen this. the most perfect way we could honor you is to look to ways we can heal from our traumas, and to present this to our communities, and the world. if we could find ways to truly love ourselves and treat others with the same respect we reserve for ourselves- this is the best present we could give you.

i was at work today, and your image kept facing me much of the time. i just kept looking into your eyes; those big, beautiful eyes which just gazed assuredly into the camera as a popular culture powerhouse- but there was so much sadness beneath the makeup, the rhinestones and the beads. as i stared at the image the only thing i kept thinking about was your freedom. i said to myself as i looked into those eyes: 'you are free now, my teacher. you are free.'

i just watched your acceptance speeches from 1980, at the american music awards... there was a freedom you had there too- a sort of vindication. you were finally recognized as independent... as a sovereign adult, in a way. still, there was that sadness, that people did not see your range; people did not see your potential as that sovereign adult. and there must have also been the feelings you carried about yourself... i don't even think YOU realized your potential, despite the years of experience you've had, to get to the place you got to. you had a smile on your face, but in that was the pain. and with that pain came the drive to do bigger things. this is what we were speaking about yesterday: using that pain to fuel your art.

you have such a wonderful smile. it's one of those smiles that should be cherished, because you did not smile all the time. but when you did it lit up many peoples' hearts. when i looked at you from 1980, i saw myself reflected in that, that sort of looking down, not believing you are in the place you're at. no matter how many people say they love you, you never believe it. and you always strive to do better, but it's at the expense of your self-esteem. it's at the expense of that pain.

but now you are free, dear teacher. and you could now sit back and reflect upon how many people really did truly love you. i kept staring at that image at work, and i fell in love with you all over again. because your freedom gave me comfort. i ask you to be with your children right now, and give them comfort as well. i'm sure you are, but i just wanted to ask.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 30)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 07:45:00 +0000

i am experiencing a bout of the 'empty nest' syndrome... rather, my heart is dealing with it. as i go through a process of cleaning my room i turn around and you are there, all over the place. your albums are sitting there, facing me. images of you meet me at eye level. my eyes dart across the wall chronologically, to see if i've missed out on anything. i grasp on to anything, to fill my heart with whatever is left of you.

my heart does not feel at home because it is empty. it feels better when i know you speak to it. i keep thinking of the songs you sang, and the one song in my head is so true for my heart right now. because in writing for two years, i searched to find myself in some way (that never-ending journey) but all i saw was you. you were in my thoughts, my dreams. you came up in conversations. i made significant friendships because of you. and now... i don't feel at home in my heart. and i want to go there.

i don't want you, or anyone else to mis-understand me... i am not saying that i cannot go on without you. i am just saying that there is a huge void since you left. and i don't know if it will be easy to fill. so many of your songs take me to places in my own life... "gotta find a way somehow/even though you're gone"... lisa (who is the editor of a paper which continues to honor you, with massive responses) told me today that there are a lot of people feeling this void- people like me who feel they have no others to grieve with.

there has to be a way for all of us to get together... there has to be a way for all of us to merge our grieving hearts together, to find a place where we feel at home in a world which isolates us. it is now a brand new world without your physical presence, and it still doesn't seem real in many ways, but one thing you have left behind is your legacy in seeking the truth of love (i cannot emphasize that more than i have been)- and that IS real. in this unfamiliar world we must look within to find that same truth- especially if we have to do it alone.

and if we look deep enough, we can really get home. it's been difficult thus far, but with our patience and your guidance we can find it together.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 29)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 13:08:00 +0000

right now it's just the small things... right now it's associating images with words. it's about remaining silent, and watching it all happen.

can it be that suddenly the world has moved forward, and i am left behind? has the world finally stopped talking about you, or have i just not paid attention...? the truth is, i can't afford to pay attention, as they say... you are worth so much to me that i don't want to spend the time arguing or dissecting opinions.

but back to the small things... i was in the midst of writing to you yesterday, and i can only think it was you telling me to not write, that i need to take care of myself. that you know how i already feel, and there is no need to fall asleep at the keys in the midst of our conversation. that tomorrow will be another day, and we can continue to chat at that time.

and so i listened to you... still wondering what you must think of me, if you even think about me at all; still wondering about the dreams i've been having, which are getting closer to vividness, yet still too far to grasp.

i wonder how easy it was for you to laugh, and how often you cried. how often you kissed your children's wounds when they skinned their knees, or told them they did a good job when they spelled a word correctly.you know, the little things. that is all i can think about right now. i feel like i can only compose things in fragments. so much of my life reflects this right now: a series of fragmented events, where all thoughts return to you. if i am to return too deeply (as in my dreams) it could be a painful place.

there are still songs of yours i can't listen to right now. songs i have always loved, that when they come on now i have to skip them. they can never be listened to in the same way. even in joy, there is pain. both you and i have been conditioned by the system of pain. admittedly it fuels our art in certain ways. but as i am sure you have seen, one cannot survive off of this. which is why you did your best, in your own way, to seek the truth of love.

how often did the love and pain merge for you? did the pain you felt ever outweigh the love you felt for your children? if they asked you to receive some sort of treatment would you have listened to them as opposed to an adult? i ask you these things because in seeing what people have said about you-before and after your transcendence- there appeared to be the perspectives that you were either immortal (and could live through your pain simply because of who you were) or that your pain was relatively insignificant, due to the fact that your pain was of your own doing. none of those theories takes into account your humanity; there are no connections made in the context of your whole life's experiences. that way it's much easier to disassociate ourselves from the experiences, branding you as either an icon/idol, or another washed-up celebrity.

it's those small things that make life a bit more bearable, so we could get through our day without having to think about how our actions affect everything on this planet. it's like we never stop to notice... ourselves.

and it's me going throughout my day, not realizing the pain is still perched at my side. i can sit and smile and laugh with others now (i'm STILL seeking out that hearty laugh) but the grief is all too real still. i see it when i am alone. i stood and noticed today that i am still at stage one.

i still cannot believe you are not physically here. i have acknowledged your transcendence, but that grief is perched at my side, still in disbelief. i'm still having trouble seeing those 'three words'... at the same time preparing for a radio show in tribute to you. i see your name in rotation approximately 33 1/3 times a minute, just studying the label as you vibrato-filled tenor emanates from the speakers; just to make sense of your physical absence being real. the contradiction just nags at my hem. and so i still cry in hearing certain notes, or words which trigger that pain in me.

when people ask me how i am doing i don't really know how to answer... so i tell people i am okay, but still sad. i feel like i am a bit better at articulating my feelings through writing, if i am even good at articulating them then. but to actually explain, vocally, how i am feeling seems a bit too difficult; especially since there is such an encouragement to 'move on' with the grief. is it too much to ask how you dealt with the alone-ness, teacher? did you just wrap yourself in your work in order to deal, or did you simply cry?

i waver back and forth between alone-ness, because i'm not really sure who i should express it to in person... i must function throughout the day, and i am certainly not stuck in my grief; but who can i go to (short of a therapist), in order to find some sort of comfort? is a therapist the only one?

it's the small things that matter. of course, they may seem small on a larger scale, but it's those small things that make up who we are as people. those small things can make or break us on an emotional scale. your transcendence may be a small thing to a number of people (considering we are just small beings in a large world of people who transcend and come into the world every day)... but as my teacher, the pain of your loss is very real to me.

i don't want to appear as selfish; but i want to recognize myself as having these feelings, without having to suppress them for the sake of 'progression'. i want to find pro-active ways of co-existing and moving through the world with this pain, without wallowing in it. it may seem contradictory on the surface, but that isn't the intention...

i just want to be able to freely be myself. just as you sang in childhood so confidently and defiantly in the face of those who dare limit you, "what else can i be but what i am?"

in these times, those words still ring true.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 28)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 10:42:00 +0000

it is essentially impossible to trace silence in words; to trace silence in emotions, when you live in a place which does not cherish it. tonight, a friend said it best: in speech there is freedom, but in silence there is not.

this is why i write these things to you teacher... it's not just to you, but to communicate to others how i feel. but how do i communicate silently? if i did so people would tire of me, and think i was being difficult. it was quite evident in the heaviest aspect of the grieving stage for you. i felt impatience coming from various sides, prompting me to accelerate this stage, so i can laugh again. so i can 'be myself' again. i spend so much of my time in the presence of people, this is usually the only time i have to share with just you. and i am choosing for others to see it. i am hoping you don't mind.

i woke up with another one of these dreams... i didn't know who was coming or going; i didn't know where things began or ended. there was no connection as to any occurrence of events. everything seemed inconsequential, therefore unforgettable. i just woke up, looked at the clock and my body jolted because i had to get up to go to work. these dreams have been happening since you left. the dreams with you used to be so vivid; everything you did and said were so distinct. now i'm just trying to figure out if you can hear me at all.

it is officially one month exactly since you... transcended. i still don't know what to think of that. i have been saying this to people all day. some people knew exactly what i was talking about, and some didn't. one person said to me that he's lost track, because so many others in his life are transcending as well. we spoke a bit about the cycle of life; where one physical life begins when the other one ends.

as i said to you, your transcendence created a sort of birth for me. i spent two years with you; i had to have faith and figure out what decisions needed to be made in your physical absence. i'm still trying to figure some of that out, but at least i know the opportunities of options exist.

and music (YOUR music) continues to be either a source of rumination or sadness... and others' music continues to reflect my feelings on your absence, and what you represent to me.

'the wiz' kept popping into my head. inevitably it's because the film is playing in the cinema next week, in honor of you. whoever wrote the description of the event noted the film's "sheer insanity". to allude to a piece of art as insane is to find absurdity in it. i find the film to be an excellent representation of the diversity of black life, and the freedom which comes with that diversity. i wrote an essay on this film not too long ago; i don't need to expound any more on it. i do think you were excellent in your role as the scarecrow though, and i think you portrayed the character with a heart, brains, AND some courage.

the scene where you (as the scarecrow) are introduced to the audience is my favourite scene in the whole film; but it is not the song you sing that i've been thinking about. indeed, it is one of my favourite songs in the film- you have embodied the histories of the blues in your veins. however, 'you can't win' was not on my mind. because even though that may have been how you processed yourself at the time, straight until your transcendence (was it?) there was so much of you that also strived to be the best at what you did. there was that part of you that always strived to seek the truth in love.

and so, in the middle of working i wondered about you and where you are now... did you feel safe? did you feel loved? did you feel at 'home'... did you enter a place with 'flowers and butterflies', and could i look for the rainbow in the sky, to know you were okay? and i began singing to myself, and i began to cry. i had to find a place to be alone and cry.

with all your human weaknesses and flaws, teacher, you were, and are, a lion. if we all acknowledged our weaknesses and vulnerabilities we could also strive to be lions. we could all be present in the face of adversity and personal attacks. the idea is not to be perfect in this journey; the idea is to just try to live as free as possible, in a place which does not encourage freedom... to always ask questions- to remember the child in ourselves. you defiantly found your child-self as a result of not living it in the way you felt you could the first time.

all your assumed outer 'failings' do not negate the strengths you have had. in your own way, you're a lion. maybe since you're not on this plane anymore, you could see that a bit clearer.

how do we measure success? by how we've reached others? by how much we've obtained or physically accomplished? i think by this standard then, you can say you've succeeded tremendously. still, i wonder how you're faring... when you left us you appeared to be in some sort of deep emotional and physical pain. in my open curiosity i spoke with natalie (who has met you when you were physically here) and she says you're doing alright. she says she has made connections with you in the world you are currently in, and that you are in a much better place. she said you have people who care about you, there with you. she told me not to worry about you because you are in a much better place than you were when you were here.

she also said that you knew who i was. she said you were aware of everything i am doing, and i that should continue this. if this is true, that you're alright; this makes me very, VERY happy to know you are safe, and with people who love you. it brings a lot of relief to know this. if this is also true that you are aware of my existence, this would be amazing, to say the least... i am but one small being on this entire planet, and you know about ME? what about all of the fans who love you, do you know about them as well?

still... i would love to be assured you are okay. perhaps i will have a dream sometime, a DEFINED one; where you let me know. or, i could look to a rainbow, see a pretty butterfly. or meet a wide-eyed child. and i will know your spirit is there.

your humble student,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 27)

noreply@blogger.com (the one woman apollo!) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 09:33:00 +0000

smile...

i can actually smile these days, which is nice, but i'd really like to get back to being able to have a nice, hearty laugh again... you know, like the one where you were doing an interview in japan and you couldn't stop laughing because somebody's watch was going off... i would love to be there again.

i can smile, but my heart aches every time someone comes up to me and says, "i'm sorry" or "you're the first person i thought about when..." i am STILL receiving those comments, teacher... i am still getting people giving me the looks of condolence. and so one minute i CAN smile (finally), and then someone gives me that look and asks how i'm holding up, and my heart just breaks inside. i don't know if they see that or not.

i am certainly getting by... there's always albums, videos, clips of interviews where you espouse your wisdom and your search for the truth of love... i can reflect on those things and keep that in mind. but in that i know i will never hear your voice in the same way again; thus, my sorrow continues.

in your transcendence you have actually taught me that life is still, indeed, worthwhile. with all of the absurdity surrounding this whole thing, i have felt a need to go on and continue to seek that truth of love you strived for, and to honor you in the best way i know how. part of that truth is self-acceptance. the closer i think i am to it, the farther away i am. i realize it's a crucially long journey, but i know with the lessons you have taught me i can get there.

"we're almost there, don't give up..."

despite the smiles i am now able to produce, it is virtually impossible to hide all the traces of sadness... the truth is, i never know when i am going to begin crying again. what's the use of that, you ask? well, crying really does humble you, in a way. it's a universal sign of either pain or happiness, without the conundrum of words.

and today, a tear was ever so near... i spent some time thinking about how i was actually okay with being alone; just being free to not be committed to anybody (except i want kids really bad). i was thinking that it seemed like you lived your life that way too... i wonder if it's got to do with those trust issues... but i know i've lived a majority of my life NOT committed to anyone (and knowing that whenever i am it ends in sadness or rejection). today, at work i was thinking that i was really okay with that. in the midst of thinking about this a man walks up to me and asks how i am doing, giving me 'that look' (here we go again...). his two daughters were with him, and he mentioned how the oldest one was really worried about me. she said she saw you on the television when all of this happened, and wondered how i was. he said that she used the word 'friend'. i cannot even tell you how much my heart melted, teacher... this young child's concern for me touched me so much that i didn't know what to say.

i told you about that little girl a number of days ago, teacher... i am actually crying about it right now, as i am writing this.

but earlier, as he was telling me about this, i felt really touched. i just said 'thank you' and i waved at the two girls. they both sweetly waved back. the youngest one just kept waving and smiling at me. it touched me that they even thought of me at this time, or even at all. tears almost came to my eyes when i saw them, but they didn't. i walked it off. i didn't want them to see me cry; i don't know why.

later in the evening i saw my 6, soon to be 7-year old friend cada. you would be so proud of her, teacher... she's the one i developed a friendship with, because she used to call me 'michael' when i dressed up like you. we shared a bond because of you. and now i am watching her grow. the other day she made the decision to get a haircut, so she could donate her hair to make wigs for children with cancer. i remember discussing that with her mother that she was thinking of doing that; but she actually made the decision. i am so proud of her. i was having such a crazy day (sort of), and those two little girls and their smiles touched me so. and cada came in and gave me big hugs, and told me she loved me. and wanted to know when i was going to come and hang out with her next...

children bring such wonderful bits of wisdom to us, constantly. i know you know this, teacher. you spent much of your life trying to share your joy of children with the world. that wisdom is obviously not shared by the adult world...

in this day of relative calmness (with the children, anyway) i saw an article which disturbed me, teacher. this is why i don't read any articles on you pertaining to your transition. the article mentioned that there was a plan of sony releasing film footage of the rehearsals of your 'this is it' tour to cinemas, by the end of october. sony WON A BID, beating FOUR OTHER FILM COMPANIES for the rights to this footage. kenny ortega (yes...) is going to be credited as the director.

i'm sure you already know I AM BOYCOTTING THIS. i haven't even had a curiosity of finding out any news about you. had you still physically been here i would have leaned toward seeing this footage, to further explore my journey with you in terms of the book. but YOU ARE NOT PHYSICALLY HERE TO REPRESENT AND DEFEND YOURSELF. it's not fair.

i am just tired; i want this to stop.

"that's the time... you just keep on trying..."

i will try, teacher. for you, i will try.

your humble student,
jamilah