michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 61)

"visions come to me in my sleep/i closed my eyes to see what GOD is showing me..."

sometimes we only go as far as we allow our vision(s) (or dreams) to take us... and sometimes that is not very far. we awaken due to a disruption (the buzz of an alarm clock, the call of a full bladder). much of the time it can be attributed to our fears: of rejection, of failure.

"nothing comes but sleep to a dreamer..."





i woke up from a dream where you appeared. it was set approximately in 1980 or 1981. you made a surprise appearance at a diana ross concert. as she was singing a leon sylvers-inspired tune you jumped in, ad libbing and playing off of her rhythms. the crowd went crazy; they clamored for more but in a flash you were gone. i didn't even see you leave... all i saw was a queue of men (most likely your security) all dressed in black, running behind you. the next thing i saw was a shot of the crowd in a state of pandemonium as the orchestra (which you could not see, as they were behind a bunch of rafters) played on.



and then i woke up.

"and when you wake up, the dream has gone away."

even though it was not a continuation of the same literal dream; when i woke up i wondered if they had the same connotation- you know, the one dream i had that one time (when you were still physically here) where diana ross was there too... it was at a huge arena, and i, my sister and a friend sat so far up top everything on the stage looked like ants. after the show ms. ross led me backstage (the friend and my sister had left, then came back), where you were. you were just serenely sitting at a table, all by yourself. you were dressed in your blue sequined costume (the one you wore to the grammys and when you went to see the reagans). i didn't want to disturb your moment of serenity but you helped me along by giving me a warm hello. at the time of the dream i was in the midst of heavily writing the book so inevitably i carried a lot of anxiety. because you were the umbrella through which the book was written you had the opportunity to be the recipient of a non-stop barrage of disjointedness. you gently stopped me, took my hand in yours and held it in a parental gesture. "you know what to do" was your response.

and then i woke up.



but you've heard this all before... maybe i'm just reading too much into a possible connection, but i see one, between the two dreams. because a lesson is involved in both.


there are two different issues which have been eating at me in different ways: children and technology. and yesterday i had to confront both in ways i really did not want to.

the older i get my desire to be a mother grows. at work i see so many children- babies born just days and weeks prior, toddlers who have found the joys of exploration- and i feel this immense emptiness inside my soul. i am driven by this fear that i'll never get to experience that because... i have absolutely no desire to give birth. i know, i know, it's extremely contradictory. i recall you stating in an interview something similar in the early 1980s, how you yearned to be a father but didn't really want to be a part of the birthing process. when i saw that i thought, SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS...

again, seeing that many may think this has to do with you not wanting to continue your gene pool (and further, after the birth of the children you eventually did have, that you didn't want black children). i cannot make assumptions about why you said what you did; all i know is that when i saw your comment i felt as if i wasn't alone. i know for me, it has nothing to do with either one... i just never really had a desire to give birth. as beautiful as the process is, to see a life growing inside someone and after this long gestational period anticipating the result; i personally just don't want any part of it.





and i get a lot of grief for this. "well, you don't want a child bad enough then" they say. but i do... I DO! it kills me so much that i cry at night sometimes. i want to watch a child grow, say the first words, learn to walk, form lasting friendships, become independent... the older i get the nurturing side of me grows. i live with a lovely cat (who, if anything were to happen to her it would devastate me to no end) but frankly it's not the same. it's like, as much as you loved bubbles (or muscles or louis or rosie or mr. tibbs, etc.), the role bubbles played could not compare to the first time you saw your first born son. i mean, it was so much that you even allowed the press into your life, to document the event of his existence.



looking at images of you over the years; it amazes me how much you lit up when you were around children, as if they were your one link to life. even when you performed on stage (which you felt safety from, and where the microphone was sort of an umbilical cord) there always seemed to be tinges of anger or resentment. the 'angry dancer' description astaire gave to you rang true. but when you were around children it was the only time i can say that sadness departed from your eyes.



what upsets me is that there's a degree on how much i desire to have children in my life... i don't know if i were a man who wanted a child, if people would be critiquing me because i didn't want to father one 'naturally'. is giving birth such a symbol of my womanhood that the only way to test my being a competent mother is if i gave birth? i don't think that's what people are saying but at times it feels that way.

what they ARE saying is that there aren't too many options i have, if i really want to be a mother; as i don't want to produce a child 'naturally', and i don't have the money 'required' to adopt a child. i could, of course, be a nanny, but that's not the same as full on motherhood, as being a nanny does not guarantee watching the child grow for years on end.

a couple of friends commented that my lack of desire to give birth may stem from some sort of trauma; either in a past life (where i died stillborn), or in this one (where my childhood was so painful that i don't wanna see the gene pool continue). i would think that if life was so bad for me as a child i would WANT to give birth so that it would be proven that abuse does not run in our blood.

it's difficult for me to explain why i have never wanted to give birth. if it ever ends up happening it's not going to be the worst thing to ever happen in my life; but i really hope that's not something i even have to consider.



if anything i have a huge fear of, not the child being stillborn, but me not surviving the experience and never being able to see the child grow. i have a huge fear of suffering from depression during pregnancy, and after. i have thoughts of being really ill throughout the experience- more than the typical morning sickness, or cramps.

and if i actually did survive the pregnancy i'd be afraid that i'd reject the child. as beautiful as i think the experience of childbirth is, i also find it to be extremely violent. for a child to be born (pushed out!) into this world today is very cruel. and some of the things we subject the child to during that gestational period are cruel as well. they come into this world after all this time of peace, and we instantly place our aspirations, our fears, our assumptions onto them.

and with that, as much as it's killing me right now that i am not a mother, at the same time i hate the fact that i want to be one.



i also have an intense fear about being a mother right now, because i don't want to do it alone. i long for the 'traditional' life in many ways... a companion to raise a child with. but how many people do you meet who love children but also don't have the desire to do it 'naturally'? for men, there are more options.

but not really. because how many men who want to be fathers shy away from the idea of an 'heir' to continue their bloodline? i recognize the value in this with older agricultural or nomadic societies... but where exactly does this translate today? how much more value does a child which continues the bloodline have, as opposed to a child who is adopted? wouldn't both children be loved the same?

i know that i'm not ready to be a mother at this moment; i still have a lot of healing to do. the sentiments of "not getting any younger" tick away at my spirit as i begin to approach my mid-30s... people telling me "you'll make a good mother" does not help. it's not my womb which is feeling empty; it's the feeling that i'll never be a mother which dictates that emptiness.



and so we are onto the second issue i am having- the fear that i'm living in a world where everything is abbreviated, and rushed. that even these conversations i am writing here to you are too lengthy. the more we adapt to all these technological 'advances' the less time we have to spend with each other, and form lasting relationships.

you, being on another plane are able to sit and decipher where you want your energies to go... you have so much time to do this. we on this plane have been neglecting our abilities to do the same exact thing. more and more of our relationships appear to be based on what someone can do for us, as opposed to WITH us. or as a friend said yesterday, "the three-minute sell".

i am having so much trouble getting on in a world like this. it's difficult for me to be stimulated by all the sounds, all the instant pictures and flashing lights. it's been building up to this environment for years, but now the idea that computers can become a substitute for relationships of living beings has become a reality for some.



and with that i reluctantly signed up with these 'social networking' sites, in order for me to find people i lost connection with (some of this did happen), or to discuss important socio-political issues (this has happened as well). overall, the experience has left me unsatisfied, because there's only so many places in these connections/communications people are willing to go.

you see, i don't like small talk (i'm sure you could tell). and this is what to me, much of this 'social networking' amounts to. it's as if any critical thought ruins the party. again, i totally grasp why you were a man of few words.

and i personally don't like talking too much, but i love writing. and so much of this 'social networking' culture is an extension of 'talking' culture... it a method of formulating ways on how to win people over... and that's not necessarily easy to do when you are involved in intense dialog. in many ways 'talking' requires taking sides, as opposed to seeing many sides of a situation. these days so much of the 'taking sides' is due to lack of information. because we receive so much information at accelerated rates (via links) there becomes less and less time to study or focus on one or two things. it's as if diligence is no longer a part of our interactions and cultures. study, and "to thine own self be true..."

diligence is the only way to truth. again, part of this truth is questioning the lessons, and the teacher who grants the lessons.



and so, in my diligence i continue to make attempts to navigate and use these networking tools to spread your teachings, in the hope that others are learning as well.

"visions come to me in my sleep..."

i gather that you have appeared in my dreams again, briefly, as i am in a mode of self-confrontation to let me know, as you once lovingly told me, that i "know what to do."

love,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 60)

every day i write something, another thought transpires... your beauty just makes me so sad. the possibility that we could all fall victim to never being able to see our own beauty just makes me sad.



for some reason i was thinking about the interview you did with oprah winfrey in 1993. "you know, let's put it this way. if all the people in hollywood who have had plastic surgery; if they went on vacation there wouldn't be a person left in town." i don't follow popular culture too much, so i cannot tell you who does and does not get scrutinized for any sort of physical alterations. i do know that you, being a prominent figure who 'happened to be black', you received a lot of accusations of self-hatred. because the alterations appeared so drastic- from the hair to the features. being that popular culture seems to thrive on the facade and not much beyond this, i understand the accusations. it doesn't make it right but i understand.

the thing i thought about more from the interview though, was your statement on vitiligo, without specificity.



because of the nature of the hippocratic oath (as if some doctors actually FOLLOW this) i doubt if anyone at the time was going to divulge any information about your condition. also, due to the fact that vitiligo was not a word uttered by most people (except those who had to deal with it, and those close to them), it was also inevitable that people were gonna accuse you of self-hatred in that form as well.

it was uncomfortable to see that part of the interview, as i saw you squirming in your seat, getting ready to cry in anticipation of having to explain your situation- a situation i might add, which had been developing for years. because there was no notification of it on your end, people just saw the 'end result'.

because we are societally conditioned to reject empathy, the way you answered winfrey's question gave you an appearance of not being credible, unfortunately. i don't think it was your place to tell anyone anything, but you also had to expect that you WOULD be asked about your skin tone.



looking at comparative photographs it's pretty easy to see that for much of your adult life you had a relatively heavy makeup job. sometimes you'd look really dark and other times (in the same period) you'd look much lighter. i'd see those photos and ask myself, with all that makeup you're wearing how does it not end up all over your clothes? and then i'd see a photo where the makeup actually DID end up all over your clothes... and you'd see these patches of discoloration.



i used to see people in the street with vitiligo when i was a child, and i always thought they were burn victims. it was always black people i saw; i was not aware that people could lose pigmentation at the time. it gave me a quick relief to know that these 'burn victims' went outside with no shame, and that i saw no one openly making fun of them. i did see people staring once in a while, but i never saw open comments. i thought that maybe the world knew more about this growing number of burn victims than i did.

but of course i did not know what they had to go through with emotionally, every day of their lives. i was not there to see their initial reactions when one day they just suddenly lost pigment.

this is what i saw in that interview- the frustration in having to explain it. i can't say WHY you chose not to discuss any of this prior to the interview, but you made the ultimate decision in going public with it in your own way.





what i was thinking about before i decided to write this to you was, how much it wouldn't matter to people WHAT you said... you can't win either way. and because you've been a man of little word by the time of that interview, it must have been really difficult for you to articulate what you really wanted to say. things have been so formulaic for so much of your life; that as simple as it would have been to say "i have vitiligo, look it up", you scrambled as to what to say. the world was watching you, it was your moment.

with that, there was eventually an official release from a doctor, explaining your condition.

you could have said, "if you read my book you can see a photograph of the makeup i am using... you can see all the makeup caked on my face over the years to deal with this issue." you could have even aligned yourself with others going through the same thing, and discussed the varying ways people deal with vitiligo. it seems like, with subsequent comments on your skin condition you were a bit more impatient, understandably. as for the 1993 interview you appeared to be off guard.

sometimes you just can't win...



right now i wonder, if you were asked about your skin condition today, what the response would be. would it be one of the same frustration, or would you be upset?

again, how we view self-hatred is so limiting to me. yes i know that we are conditioned to see things myopically but still... there is something extremely destructive in how black people in particular view self-esteem. because it's not always we take into account the family structure. 'society' is regularly a point of contention, but how often is how we are treated at home up for discussion?

winfrey, like martin bashir treated your childhood at the hands of your father as a ratings ploy, as opposed to exploring real issues relating to the tradition of abuse in our families. it's real easy to call it and to describe it ("so... what ELSE did he do to you?") but rarely do we look to solutions and modes of healing. the speech you did at oxford concerning the cycles of abuse and how to end them (and even looking into your OWN modes of healing) was a wonderful counterpoint to the media spectacle that is 'the interview'.



i actually DID grow up with bleaching cream put on me because certain parts of me were 'too dark'. i did indeed grow up hearing that my hair was atrocious, my nose was ugly... i did grow up hearing that i was stupid and worthless. there may have been a subconscious feeling that i was worthless because i was black (as a black woman who raised me told me these things) but growing up i didn't take it as that- i just hated myself.



but we've been through this already. i don't need to repeat it to you again. my point is (and i will say it over and over if i have to) is that the changes you made to yourself, just from hearing what you had to say, i don't attribute that all to racial self-hatred. this is why i say you can't win. in fact, i don't think ANY of us as black people who have had to deal with abuse of that caliber are able to win. because we are always told that we either hate our ethnicity, or we don't. there can never be any gradations. there can never be any context of the experience.

and the abuse is excused as being 'just words'. and we are told to just get over it.



i have to say (again) that you were quite helpful in my process of healing with that. i didn't really know how to articulate my feelings in a way which would be conducive to healing. it's that sort of thing where they say, you have to want to heal yourself; no one can make you do it. but it was not until i saw you discussing your experiences... it was not until i saw the open struggle you were dealing with in trying to find ways to heal, that i even considered looking within myself a possibility. no, you were not the cause, but you were the catalyst.

as many 'abused' people as i have known throughout my life, somehow you resonated with me the most. i suppose it's because of seeing so much of you in myself i got scared. writing the book i became so depressed. there were points it got so low... i will not finish the sentence. but really, i don't know what it was, what words or actions you took specifically, but there was a signal which was the impetus for me to examine the relationships with myself, and others. i was determined to find modes of healing.

i still struggle every day of my life. but i do know that somewhere there is a space where true peace and forgiveness will show itself.



so yes... it does make me sad that you were never able to see your own beauty in full... that you could never articulate your pain fully... that someone could exploit your pain and catch you off guard... and it does make me sad that others were not able to see the potential (and evidence) for that space of peace within you. but because i have seen that light within you, it does bring a smile to my face, knowing that if I have seen it others have seen it as well.

love,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 59)

michael... michael... michael...

again i have been hearing your name being called out with more frequency... and again it's always in the same places; if i am at work or in my room. perhaps that part of my brain which hears you is again being utilized, as i write these blog entries to you with more consistency as of late. there's just so much on my mind i want to say to you. i know that i could simply write all of my thoughts to you in a booklet, symbolizing a more concrete passage of time... i know that the way i am writing to you holds a bit less value, due to the lack of intimacy on the internet; the push of a key will never be the same a the stroke of a pen. however, in this technological method which makes things much more minute there is a possibility that someone may innocuously share their musings.

i don't write all these things down for attention; i doubt if many people read these postings. i do write for the hope of connection- that someone out there feels the same passion for your teachings. the only way to know if this is the case is to try... to put it all out there. i could never keep this all to myself. your gifts are far too numerous for that.



as i was waking up before i went to work a thought popped up in my head, in relation to how your teachings appear. some time before i went to bed i heard a conversation on the radio about the chris brown performance. a portion of his breaking down during 'man in the mirror' was played. listening to this clip, i actually have less of a desire to see it (or hear the full performance). as you know i don't like chris brown as a performer. i don't like his style- how he sings, how he moves. despite having you as a major influence i don't see him connecting with the spirits. i see him simply performing for the time. when people emphasize how much he dances like you again, i see technique, but not the spirit.

when i say this... when i see you move i see so many of those lines diminish. you fostered a balance between male and female, elder and child; peace and war, destruction and regeneration... you never wavered between the elements, but your movement narrated the fluidity and impermanence of life. knowing there could never be an equal balance between art and life, you worked to create an internal impression through your teachings.



and herein lie the thoughts which entered my brain as i woke from my rest. within seconds of hearing the clip of chris brown breaking down i could tell that his performance of the song was contrived and self- referential- i mean, he could have picked ANY other song out of your catalog to close his tribute out. the thing is, i don't agree with those who claim that his tears were just as contrived. granted, i can't say that any other song would have prompted such a breakdown. in light of his recent actions (being charged with a felony in beating his partner), he was also guilty in the court of public (and capitalistic) opinion, where his record sales and sponsorships suffered... 'man in the mirror' was a song he HAD to do, for public relations' sake. he may be human, but he is still, for all intents and purposes, famous. and someone that young is still concerned about and attached to his image.

but he is still human. and i believe that in the few seconds i heard of the clip there was a notion of sincerity. because as contrived as his choice was, there appeared to be a conscious effort to seek truth and light. and when the ultimate decision is made to do that, it's very painful to do.

"music is a teacher" indeed.



chris brown already had a large enough support network though. there is a chance he may never find the full impact of your teachings if he is encouraged to do what he's done in the past, in terms of his own work. after this infamous experience is he going to focus on reflection? i cannot say. i should only hope so.



for those of us who do not have a support network, there are many uncertainties.

i am writing this, still scrambling in terms of what i want to say. the right words never seem to come out. i write and write and write hoping that you'll hear me. it's no use in even asking 'what if...?' or imagining that i'd be the one to save you. this is not my intention because that would infer a lack of self-reflection. those things are not things i have asked of myself because frankly, i feel i need to move on from that.

i do know that when thinking about you, i go through major waves of happiness and sadness, all in one simultaneous moment. as i told you before it's got not much to do with you not physically being here. so much has to to do with how our worlds coalesce; how much you have infiltrated my inner self. how much you have stimulated an aspect of myself which was never aware there was light, for many years.

and because i see so much of you in myself i constantly feel a profound sadness; something in me will forever be unfulfilled. because i know these feelings will never be fully understood by others. because of the promise of commitment i made to you and your teachings i realize i am at full risk of isolation.



this is a predicament i cry about... when one is fully committed to study others may define the experience as one of austerity or 'obsession'. all of that lends to feelings of loneliness.

i identify and i empathize when (at work especially) i see so many children, so many babies around me; and i become devastated. because i can only imagine you talking about doing what you did for young people and for years not having a child in your immediate life. the desire to take on a nurturing role tortures you the older you get... the desire for true, solid companionships tortures you.

but you know at the same time that your goals and your work make so much of this unattainable. you do what you do, you make people smile and you go home at night and cry. because you don't have anybody to share your innermost fears with. or anybody to share your goals with, without reservation.

and i look at you and i just marvel at your beauty... i see you and i cannot grasp why people say you are ugly. i stare at images of you and i see a beam of light beneath those sad eyes, waiting to emerge. your beauty is not made of holiness or perfection; you don't get a pardon for altering your looks. the thing is though, as physically beautiful as you were with your original features and hair (i already told you this); the more you began chipping away at the externals the more developed your teachings became.

and still, i become so sad at your changes, because i see that fragility in myself. i know that as hard as i am fighting to eliminate all those messages in my head- the same ones your father told you my mother told me- they are still tucked away, waiting to appear at opportune moments.



perhaps this is the reason i am hearing your name at such a constant pace once again. perhaps the ancestors (perhaps you?) are reaching out to tell me that whatever happens, whatever we look like, our true nature lurks inside; we just have to access it. and the farther you focus on obtaining truth more of it will begin to lurk outside.

love,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 58)

"i'm still awake".

i'm listening to the radio right now, and one of the interviewees stated this at the beginning of an interview about the state of print newspapers. we each share the same 24 hours, no matter where on the globe we are. thinking about it, it is possible that the only time we may truly be ourselves is when we are not 'awake', because we are not constantly subjected to desensitizing materials.



at what point does true consciousness occur? a friend of mine had to catch me as she made a distinction between 'sleep' and 'rest'. a conscious person never sleeps, so when one goes to bed they 'rest'. and even outside of the physical plane there is much work to be done (as you know), so even if your body has taken on a state of eternal rest, your soul enters a period of work and protection.

i speak of this because it appears in many ways... we are culturally asleep, to the point where once-thriving industries are struggling how to work within a framework of changing technologies (whether or not they have the funds to do so). and we as individuals make the conscious decision to not take advantage of the facilities we are given. we have access to so much information and then we don't use it. we scream about the possibility of it being taken away from us but we don't utilize it to its full capacity, in positive ways.

and so we allow these industries to make the decisions for us; influencing our decisions on what to buy, and when to buy (into) it.



i think specifically about a couple of different situations... i think of the time when you were at the world music awards in monaco, and the notion of piracy was mentioned. you giggled at the word 'pirate', amused at how the traditional concept of a pirate (of the caribbean, no less!) could be associated with affecting a music industry. and then you caught on, and straightened up your posture. i found that charming, your slight naiveté of the concerns of an industry where you still sold millions of units, particularly outside of the states. your fans and supporters have been loyal to you, thereby deeming you relatively unaffected by the failing state of the industry... after all, you revived a slumping industry in 1982- and then again in 2009. i'll get back to this in a bit. but you never heard anybody exclaim, "yo! i got the latest MJ bootleg!!!"

and more recently i think about how performers like lady gaga are peddled to us.

lady gaga happens to be one of those performers where, when i hear her my eyes roll in the back of my head as if i am being possessed by some evil energy. i see her, and i become bit ill. i am not joking. it has nothing to do with how she's dressed really, or even the songs themselves. granted i don't really like the songs; but there are many bad songs out there and i don't feel possessed when i hear those. i just happen to see and hear this very evil energy radiating from her. it's as if they found her, and she was bred, 'manchurian candidate' style, to take on a pivotal role in a more modern form of desensitization.

i think the huge difference between what she does and what others do who PURPOSELY perform through a means of evil energy, is just that. though what they all do is intentional, what gaga does is set up to be 'shocking'. her image constantly changes in a painstaking attempt for unguarded fluidity. nothing is sacred in this world, especially not relationships (with ourselves, our environment or others). and we allow this space in our lives to be dictated to. because relationships are of least importance. our senses are so overloaded with imagery and sound that we begin to ignore the gift of vibration.

it troubles me when i see these children (and elders- i mean, people in their 80s) dancing to lady gaga. because these children are being indoctrinated early on. and the elders become internet sensations. we become so consumed with instantaneous desire, and even though she's not the only one to promote this, gaga contributes to it. that she is being lauded by publications for being 'original' and wielding a whole lot of influence (financial and cultural) is troubling to me, as this is a perpetuation of the idea(l) of individual wealth as being financial. and you obtain this wealth by staging yourself as a symbol of hedonism.



and so i return to 1982. you by comparison, despite being the most famous person in the whole world were actually one of the least hedonistic figures in popular culture. i can't help but think though that as you were bred for the life you entered since you were a child, there was a goal by management and label executives to market you as being a thriving recipient of this instantaneous culture... there were the dolls, the commercials, the concerts. still you could see an open battle with that life, as you shied away from interviews, or you made quick appearances then left, hiding your face and whispering how embarrassed you were. you created your little enclave inside, as opposed to displaying any sort of excesses outside.

even 'thriller', the album which still stands to this day as the greatest-selling of all time, was an album which claimed moral codes. 'wanna be startin' somethin'' indicated self-pride and familial responsibility; 'lady in my life' represented an intimate moment between two committed people, and 'beat it' was a lesson in just walking away from violence. even the titular track, despite it's dark theme, had a playful side to it; it was all about protecting someone from a horror film.

the funny thing is, this was the era in which you scared me. ultimately, whether or not you chose that energy, there was a DARK energy around you. and it resulted in the infamous 'victory tour', the 'pepsi burn' incident, and so much more. it seemed that when you decided to free yourself from much of your immediate surroundings at that time, creatively you became freer. HOWEVER, this was the period when the reception towards you became less and less positive.

those who choose to speak truth will ultimately be physically destroyed. this is the perception. but really, we all must physically leave this world. the most important thing is that truth remains. as long as we live in this world we are going to be encouraged to never question anything but ourselves. but if, in our physical existence we have obtained a bit of truth, then i think we have succeeded in some way.

and just by even reaching one person, i think you have succeeded very well. i'm still awake, michael. and i know you certainly are.

love,
jamilah

michael, may you now be at peace: a reflection (no. 57)

i feel so full of inspiration right now... wait, that's not exactly correct but at the same time it is... i guess the main thing is that, since it's not just you i am speaking to (what i write here to you is public) i want to be very clear in how i say things, regardless of the fact that it all will be mis-interpreted anyways.

words are difficult to convey to someone who lived, for all intents and purposes, the dance. you lived, breathed and rested the dance. for me, my mind flows in waves like the ocean, where the tides come and go, rise and subside. i become inspired by words and aim to put it all to action. the way i process things, i work best when i write it all down. i can't articulate myself very well when i speak. and i'm certainly not as good a dancer as you, so...

i suppose you're stuck with me in this way. i hope it's not too much for you.



the catch 22 even in THIS is that my feelings for you cannot even be displayed in words. your teachings move me far beyond a place where we speak... when you left it was real easy to say 'a part of me has died' but that's not exactly what i wanted to say. how i felt was in a place so hollow that left me feeling unaccomplished. it had nothing to even do with the fact that i'll never be able to hear your voice again... i can always return to your voice whenever i need to hear you. what i felt was a huge portion of me chipping away; it was as if everything i was beginning to learn in the process was now for naught. i had to stop and think about my purpose in this whole experience with you. at that point i had to make a decision. i had spent so much of my time, getting very little sleep, advocating what i thought you were trying to convey your whole life, through my own life's perspective. you were the umbrella through which my experiences were translated. but yes, when you left i had to make a decision.

and i had to stop merely being an advocate and begin to make a goal to truly become the teachings which you presented to me. when i realized this was what i had to do i felt so much better, and i knew that everything i had done prior to that fateful day happened for a reason.



a friend of mine told me that initially he didn't fully understand why i spent all of my waking hours as an advocate for you, in the years i had known him. he told me that after a while he realized that in all that time i was simply preparing for the day of your transcendence. he said that somehow i sensed it coming.

and the truth is, i did. i kept this to myself around the time you turned 50. i saw something very dark occur, and i got really scared. i did not want to put it out in the universe. i'm sure i was not the only person to envision this. however i did not know when. i can guarantee you that i was not aware of the magnitude of that moment.

i must admit that it was something that worried me as that day was approaching; it was met with a bit of relief when you survived the day of your 50th year of existence, spending quality time with your children. i could not help but have a continuous sinking feeling though. and it bugged me to keep processing that.

again, it wasn't the fear of your physical loss driving this- everyone has to go, as they say. there was something very unsettling in the visions i had. i ended up having a couple of dreams where there was some sort of fighting involved. in the last one i had (about two weeks before you left) we fought in public. i spoke to you in an accusatory tone (actually yelling at you) then i stormed off; i eventually returned. i saw you standing, hunched over in sadness (or possibly protection). i went over and placed my hand over you, in a silent apologetic embrace.

and then you were gone. i can only imagine how straight your posture is now; you are so free...



as an advocate i wanted there to be a flow of energy in which you could feel some sort of support. i think that the flow of energy from one person to another is crucial, even if one is not physically present. i truly wanted you to know that i was thinking of you in these times, in your emotional struggles. in the midst of all this there were times that i struggled in my own personal relationships, and doubted myself. i will not go into details here, but i will say that you remained a constant in my life. there were certain points where i wondered if, due to the similarities in our experiences, you were a crutch. in the course of the dedication to my advocacy a lot of tears were shed and questions asked. i wondered if this sort of dedication was really worth it, where it affected my friendships.

however, i remained steadfast in my love and advocacy for you, and in many ways it improved my relationships with people... a huge aspect in this advocacy is self-reflection. everything you taught me would have little to no value if i were not to tune into that aspect of myself...



ricky martin called you "a great teacher, pure musical inspiration"... i have seen places where others have called you a teacher as well. as it's obvious/inevitable that i would not be the only one to consider you a teacher; i do wonder how your teachings have impacted those who have bestowed the title upon you. i try to imagine the flow of energy from your hands, as you shook the hands of your contemporaries and elders. your frame was so small but you appeared larger than life. even larger than it looked like you felt. i try to imagine the emotions expelled by those who had the opportunity to capture your teachings in person, the second you catapulted on stage... the tears and the fainting...

and how what you were doing was either making a business deal, or just giving people what they wanted on stage... either way, i saw the same energy radiate. magic is too simple of a word. because the outcome may have been illusion-based; but beyond the illusion was a force. i am still astounded when i see footage of you, a young kid from midwestern gary, indiana; grow to become an internationally-respected man dining with kings and presidents, maintaining this level of unsophistication (perhaps due to a child-like demeanor) which was extremely humbling and yet, ensuring a level of maturity rarely seen on those with similar stature.



do you see what i mean when i say that words don't convey the true nature of my sentiments? it's all too easy to become lost in semantics or phrasings; i'm not too sure how else i can share this... my feelings are too strong to keep to myself.



when i speak of you as a teacher, this is the part which can be open to mis-interpretation... because, you didn't only teach me about love, about patience, about empathy... you also taught me about weakness, about control. about owning those painful experiences. no you were not the one to help me discover these things; however, as i keep saying, learning from and about you i was forced to acknowledge a lot of these things in myself. even though i thought i was somewhat better in terms of doing this, i saw that there was much room for improvement.



to be a student of yours isn't easy. it guarantees in many ways, isolation. the isolation isn't intentional, but it comes with the territory of absolute dedication. it guarantees absolute spurts of blossoming creativity and other moments of sheer blocks. it guarantees both jumping in the air with excitement and crying oneself to sleep.

it requires an intense focus, but never a loss of sight of your surroundings, for this is also the model from which is the inspiration for your teachings. in order to fully be focused, a peripheral awareness is of utmost importance. true wisdom can never be attained within a narrow vision.



you see, it's so easy to become lost in all of these words... i see why you allowed 'the dance' to speak for you. still, again, this is the best way for me to communicate. the dance encourages you not to become dictated by euphemism. ironically, it was 'the dance' which people became fixated on, virtually ignoring your message and then, when you actually DID open yourself up to speak, allowing the dance to guide you, you were censored. "an angry dancer" fred astaire called you. when you allowed yourself to display your anger, silently, through dance, you were therein, silenced. under no uncertain terms, you were told to just backslide/moonwalk for the rest of your life, continuing the illusion of moving forward as you are being pushed backwards. it's a lot like life, for anyone trying to free themselves.

i recognize why you were a man of few words.



when you moved, be it on a stage or in a chair, i sensed sadness, frustration and anger. i observed it emanating from myself when i watched you. i felt a wave of nervous energy; not just for you but mostly for myself. over time my feelings for you became conflicted... the role in which you played in my life became unsteady, and i did indeed become upset at myself. i suppose this is all a part of the journey of establishing and securing relationships.

even this moment, the moment i write this, is part of a long journey. there will be more tears, more realizations... more learning to do. but i hope that ultimately i can stand and say my dedication was worth something.

love,
jamilah