Happy Mother's Day, Beloved

[Note: Sorry I haven't finished the "Bad Tour" posts! I will, I promise. Just been busy!]

Michael, would it be too weird if I wished YOU a Happy Mother's Day as well? You're kind of like my "other mother" (but not in the creepy Coraline kinda way, lol). I didn't begin to realize this until after 2009. I had grown up with you, but I never thought of you as a parent figure. (Ahem, no.... wayyyy too many feeling crossed that line, ahem. ;) Plus, you're not quite old enough to be my dad, lol. However...

A couple of years ago I had a realization that I am actually one of your kids. I declared myself yours around my 12th birthday, after all. Although I thought of myself as nearly grown up (lol), twelve is still a child! When you felt for 'your babies' around the world, I used to be one of them. That was a nice thought. I love being yours.

And when I was scared and alone during a brief stay in a foster home, YOU were my salvation. I wasn't allowed to contact friends or family, but I had you in my heart. I remember lying in that bedroom, silently crying and reaching out to you in desperation, "Michael, I know you don't know me, but I'm only 13, a fan, and I'm in an awful mess right now. Can you hug me? I'm scared." And although some would say it's crazy, my other friends will know it's true... you were there. When I wanted to leave this planet some months later, again, it was you ... your words, your voice, that saved me. Was I seeking a friend? Or did I need a third parent in those moments? I'm understanding it was both.

And it's been you, in the more traditionally maternal role, who's been working on my ability to feel, be caring and to express love, compassion and affection all these years. I made a vow as a child that no one would ever see me cry. I used to be asked, through tears, "Don't you FEEL anything?! You're just so cold!" by more emotional types. (Thanks, Capricorn Moon. The answer is yes, of course, but I tend to freeze up.) But Michael ... geesh... you had me crying and emoting when there wasn't much to cry or emote about yet! Because of you and your emotional exuberance about E.T. The Extra Terrestrial, that was the first movie I allowed myself to publicly weep at when I saw it the first time during its theatrical re-release in '85. I let the story into my heart because in so doing I was communing with you! And we're not even going to talk about my shaking and crying my eyes out at the Bad concert a few years later, lol!

Through loving you, growing up with you, crying with you, becoming an adult with you, I've gone through so much, and directly because of YOUR encouragement (by just being who you are) I've learned that it's okay to feel and say "I love you". It's okay to say those things. It's okay to express it. In fact, we should! Even if it's still difficult for me, little by little the bricks crumble while you stand to the side like a parent, smiling at each little triumph. And when I've needed arms to hold me, you've so often been there, with the deepest comfort I've ever felt. You even made me a bowl of split-pea soup in a dream, lol. And then there was that past life (?) glimpse of being your baby, but I'll leave that for now.

In astrology, it's common to lose a parent during certain transits, like major planets on angles. The day you died I had that, plus a massive Pluto conjunct Moon transit had just begun. The moon, of course, represents the mother principle, and in my chart, the moon's ruler is conjunct the 4th house cusp, which also represents one's mother. These things showed the dangerous/likely possibility of losing a parent, particularly one's mother. And I did: YOU. Right in cosmic timing. (*Knocks strongly on wood and prays for the other two*, whose influence I'm not trying to downplay.) This is probably one reason the mourning has been so deep, so total, so incomprehensible. I lost you, for whom love is unfathomably deep, and also a parent at the same time.

So, Beloved, having you right there looking out to me from every inch of my bedroom walls growing up, you being my comfort in the worst times, and your constant emotional mentoring... it's all right there. I could ramble on for pages, but suffice it to say, you have been and continue to be a mothering spiritual being to me. But then, you're also my friend, my lover, my brother, my guru, my ... oh heck, Michael, you're EVERYTHING. And I love you. Happy Mother's Day from one of your kids. Always.

What depths...

What Immortal Unfoldings

Lost these days, Oh where are you?
"I'm here", my imagination weakly replies.
I don't feel the warmth,
The electricity down my spine,
Or the continuous dialog,
Like you're a part of me, I you,
One ever-present consciousness
Joined as entangled photons,
Light knowing light,
Drops of rain endlessly falling
Into each other...

Who is this man, this being,
This mystery, this love?
Mere mortal, a god, or both,
I no longer know...

You, so real, so human,
Me, obsessive and grasping,
Reaching for the proof
Of my own delusions?
What depths I have assigned you,
What immortal unfoldings,
But oh, the grandeur
Of my delusions of you!

Illusions of you - by you, or I?
Or truth, clouded in my nebulous faith -
Truth I know in solid clarity,
Forever in my heart...

Who are you?
ARE you?
Please be! Please BE!
Fatally human or master divine,
I'm lost without your presence,
Mercy, forgive my doubts,
As you forgive my delusions,
Be within me again,
Touch me, teach me,
Exquisite and fragile
And all.
 
_______________________
"What Immortal Unfoldings"
© December 15, 2011 by D.M. 
~ All Rights Reserved

It is here I am One

Sleeping, dreaming of space.

I'm somewhere near the moon with others, with him.

I awaken in bed for a moment, close my eyes and whoosh ... Consciousness contracts into a single point that in once re-discovered I am all, I am free. I am the real me, wrapped in a peaceful cloak of deep velvet blackness, awareness so focused, yet eternal, everywhere, knowing, knowing. "Oh joy!!!" my soul cries. At last, again, once more!

This is the place, the knowing, the Me from where I once tasted a morsel of what my silly mortal brain calls death. It is here I was before God, bathed in The Light on that blessed evening last August. It is here I know our Mother/Father, dearest Friend since the beginning of time, if time existed.

Oh, if only you knew, if only you remembered! I promise you will, the greatest Love you've ever known. It is from here I know my Beloved. It is from here I know you. It is here I am One with You, God, my Best Friend, All ... from whence each point of Self, expressed as us, did spring. I love you, God. I love you.

28 years, and forever

28 YEARS AGO TODAY, on January 16, 1984, a clueless eleven-year-old without MTV watched the American Music Awards and was irresistibly drawn to a beautiful somebody in sunglasses and a sparkly red jacket. "Who the heck is that?!", she asked, bewildered. Thank God she could not escape the sudden onslaught of love's gravity. Here's to 28 years of loving you with all my heart, and eternity before and forever, dear Beloved! Thank you, Michael. Always yours, D. ♥

Pictures, Postcards & Love Letters (how life is like October)

Ok, I know I'm 'supposed' to stay more focused on spirit, but sometimes there's such a question to it all and everything collapses back into the Vortex of Doubt. And at those times I find myself crying so deeply, almost begging: "Please still exist. Please still exist. Please tell me I'm not crazy." For I know at those moments that this (your continued existence) is the most important thing in the universe to me. Yeah, I know a psychologist would have a field day with it all. Unbeknownst to them, though, I've thought of my situation, of loving you THIS much, way more then they could imagine, for a great many years. This is well covered territory in my mind... the WHY, the HOW, the explanations that I'd get, that we fill in with fantasy what we missed in our childhoods, that we need myths, legends and substitute religious figures, blah, blah, blah. But trust me, they're still missing the mark. As an educated (errr, um) almost 40-year-old, I feel I can say that pretty definitively.

Loving you is like having had the essence of your soul injected into the minutest particle of every atom that makes up the core of my DNA, and deeper still. "Closer than breath, you are the air..." It's why June 25th destroyed everything inside, broke it into a billion pieces and scattered it to the wind, leaving me with a river of tears from which to mix the mortar that, in theory, holds together the few salvaged molecules. Ok, tears and LOVE. Both in their truly cosmic form.

But what I'm really thinking of is time. How time passes where I am. How slowly and painfully the clock can tick. You (if I'm not crazy ;) can now see the longer arc of existence, the temporary state of physical being. You can, right? But to me it's sometimes torture. Remember how that is? In the sad moments, to think of being here without you for many years still to come feels so ... tragic. You are not walking the earth with me. How can that be??? I just read an article about you and, especially nowadays when they talk about the estate and money and future ventures, it feels so cold. It's Michael Jackson the business, the figure of the past, a name, an icon, a piece of our cultural legacy, each moment sinking further in the past... but it's not you. In my heart you're my mother/father/brother/lover/teacher/best friend. I know all that icon stuff is true as well, but I LOVE YOU. I always have.

You told me something recently that I want to share with anyone who's actually read my whining and rambling this far. You said to think of this life as so temporary that it's as if it just lasts a month. Just one measly little month long. There's a whole year within a decade within a century within millenia within eternity still out there. And this life is like the month of October. (Why October was the example, I don't know, lol). And you were here for at least half of the month, half of my October. Surely I can wait a measly two more weeks to rush into your arms again, can't I? It all goes so quickly, when seen from a higher perspective. (Not to mention that we're never actually apart. It can sure feel like it sometimes, though, can't it.) But in any case, it's just half a month of perceptual separation. We'll be together in full awareness the rest of the year, just as we've always been.

And I said that was a pretty good analogy, but I never got to know you at ALL in the month of October! Why is that? How could it be that I loved you so, so, so very much, like family, like breath, like the bounding lifeforce of a heartbeat and the silent anticipation until the next, and yet never met you. All these years YOU were my wish. And yet I never even met you. Never even brushed my fingertips across yours in as much as a handshake. If life is only as long as October, why must I spend this entire month without you?

And you laughed softly and hugged me (for real? in my imagination? sometimes I'm not so sure) and said, "It's just a month. ;) And you've had LOTS of me! I was off traveling the world and sending you so many pictures, postcards and love letters! All the time! It's like having a loved one away on vacation.You were always receiving stories and videos of the places I visited and experiences I had. You heard interviews and speeches. And I sent you lots of gifts too. I sent you songs I wrote, and my poems and dreams... even entire movies I worked so hard on, hoping you'd like them! I couldn't be with you in person, but you still got a lot of me, right? "

Oh Michael, I just love you. Thank you so much for all of that! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! And yes, you're right (as usual ;).

"And you still have all of that. You still have it all! You can spend hours watching me, hearing my voice, looking at photos, feeling my soul within it all as I feel it all with you as you experience it. You know I'm always there. You haven't been left alone, even in the physical sense, as temporary as that is. You have a whole world of audio/visual scrapbooks. And there are still physical things in the mail that haven't reached you yet ... things I sent a while back ... things you'll love!"

Ooooo, thank you! But I'll never love anything as much as I love you. I don't wish the month to be over. Not if God wants me to stay. But if I'm really not crazy, please be there, be here, so I'll know that October was totally worth it all. "Please still exist, please still exist", I whine as I do what I can to fight off the Vortex of Doubt that has been engulfing me lately.... *sigh*

And so I continue on the quest within, to understand the 'why' and the 'how' and the stillness that connects me to you, that tells me we are one in an instant of bliss that is forever now. I was recently reading about the Hindu deity Hanuman. He has such love and devotion for Rama that he could merge with him into eternal union whenever he wishes, but he instead chooses to remain here, in the illusion of separation. This is to serve God, but also seemingly to continue loving him in this way. For a Beloved to be, there must also be a lover. For us, the gravity holds us as a planet at distance from the sun, locked in the dance that is the agony and ecstasy of loving the Beloved from a "distance". But for whatever reason, if we're feeling this now, it tells us we CHOSE it. For our own soul growth we must've chosen to feel this pull toward union that comes from the perception of separation. Perhaps it is to continue loving the 'man in the mirror', choosing to gaze into those eyes just long enough to realize that we truly are ONE. And then we are truly free, in whatever life we choose next month...

[Note, this convo was a couple of weeks ago and I just now thought of the song "Gone 'Til November" by Wyclef Jean. It kind of fits with the October thing, doesn't it?]

Victory, Interrupted (How I Missed MJ in 1984)

It's September 7th. [[Serious whine alert!]] On this date in 1984 Michael and his brothers performed before a crowd of tens of thousands of fans at Mile High Stadium in Denver, Colorado, the first of two shows at this stop of the Victory Tour. That was 27 years ago.

And I wasn't there.

No, I was the heartbroken 12-year-old girl sitting at her bedroom window about 70 miles away, facing in the direction of Denver with my walkman, my "Thriller" tape and "The Jacksons Live" (the live album from 1981's Triumph Tour), crying my frickin' head off. Both nights I sat there, this utter longing in my soul to be near Michael, buckets of tears, his music through my headphones having to suffice, but offering little consolation considering the JOY I was missing. Knowing he was there, in my state, in our capitol city, up there on that stage at that moment... oh my God! And I (if I hadn't fainted, lol) could've been there, joyfully pouring out tons (and I mean tons!) of that LOVE energy he often spoke of, back and forth, me to him, he to me (again, assuming I hadn't fainted ;), one in joy, in infinity!

<-- Michael in Denver!!! (supposedly)

"My main love for what I do is the admirers. I love the fans. Like when I’m doing a show and I see the fans out there dancing and screaming, excited, and we’re bringing that joy to them, that’s what I love most. And it’s just the greatest feeling in the world. You’re up there and you’re giving them that energy and that love and they’re just throwing it right back at you. And it’s great. And that’s my main love, the stage and making those admirers happy."
~ Ebony interview 1984

"Being onstage is magic. There's nothing like it. You feel the energy of everybody who's out there. You feel it all over your body..."
~ Rolling Stone interview 1983

But I wasn't there. And I don't think I'll ever quite get over that, not until I'm on the Other Side in Michael's arms! There was no real reason I wasn't there, but my parents: 1) didn't yet understand that this wasn't a phase...they kept assuming I'd wake up one day with my rapid-onset "Michaelmania" cured, and 2) they "couldn't" afford the concert..."no one's worth paying that much", as my mom would say - but I bet she regrets that now.

There had been controversy early on in the tour because it started with a weird, insane ticketing system in which one had to get a special order form out of their local newspaper (no copies allowed!) on the prescribed day, send it in on a tight deadline (as in NOW!) in a specific envelope (yes, even the envelope had to be the right size!) with a USPS money order (only that would do!) for 4 tickets (only 4! no more, no less!), after which you would wait in the desperate hope that out of the hundreds of thousands of ticket requests YOURS would be one of the lucky ones. Meanwhile, you were out $120 (that's probably equivalent to $300 or more nowadays) without even knowing if you'd get tickets or not. I remember hearing that the promoters held on until the last minute too, so you were left waiting for however many weeks, praying to God you'd open your mailbox and find an envelope with tickets, and not just a refund. (Unless you needed that refund to pay rent by this point.) When Michael realized what was up and how it was impacting his fans, he held a press conference to announce that the ticketing system would be changed as soon as possible and that everything he would make from the tour would go to charity. Awww, Mike. So consider that he was up there dancing and singing his heart out show after show and wasn't getting paid (in money). That's commitment. A quickly forgotten fact for most people.

Despite the ticket system upgrade, it was in everyone's minds that the Victory Tour was ridiculously expensive. Although you no longer had to buy tickets in blocks of four, it would still have been $60 (plus parking, transportation, etc) for a parent to take their crying, shaking, frantic pre-teen child infected with ultra-hysteria-inducing and highly-contagious Michaelmania (that's what the press always called it back then ... like loving Michael was a virus, a-hee-hee... one that in later years morphed into the state of "crazy" or "rabid"... note: my eyes are rolling right now). So my parents chose NOT to spend that money. Granted, we weren't rich, but I still believe that for once, for something that was SO UTTERLY IMPORTANT TO ME, they could've done it. And it has always pained me (I gave you the whine warning earlier, so no complaining!) that they didn't. The real sucky part is that scalpers (aka touts) were selling tickets on concert day at face value. Agh! I was 12. What could I do? How could I get there? What could I know? I had no clue. Damn.

I did see one show of the Bad Tour when he returned to Denver four years later (and for that, oh my Lord, I am SO thankful!!!), but I never again had a viable chance due to finances and circumstances and being on the wrong continent. (Except when it was too late. We had great seats to two 'This Is It' shows in 2009. Ouch.)

So here he is on one of those days of joy that never was for me. And wasn't he just AMAZING?! Oh, I love you, Michael. As we said back in '84... you are "FINE!" ;) And so very much more.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OC-7mTx1NiA
------------

And below is a hilarious story (omg, rofl) by Jamie Foxx about seeing the Victory Tour in Dallas. Start at 1:30 into the vid, and let me warn you... there is some seriously strong language! No kidding. But his story is sooo funny and also impressive. He really gives you the feeling!


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zs5f_-UtyGY - "White men that have brought their whole families pass the **** out!" LOL! (But tickets were not $85, lol. They were $30 each ;)

Mahler's 'Resurrection' and the Symphony of Love

I was watching a wonderful performance of Mahler's 'Resurrection' Symphony No. 2 on BBC Proms Sunday night. This seemed so fitting, since a friend of mine is working on a requiem at the moment. And some of Mahler's lyrics translated to English, ohhh, they just seemed to fit. Written in paragraph form are some of the lyrics from 01:16:50 onward in the video below:

You shall rise again. You shall rise again, my dust, after a brief sleep. Eternal life. He who called you shall grant you eternal life. Believe, my heart. Nothing will be lost to you. It is all yours! Yours, what you longed for. Yours, what you loved and strove for. Believe! You were not born in vain. You did not live and struggle in vain. All that is brought to life must pass away. What passes away must rise again. Cease your trembling, prepare yourself, prepare for life. All-penetrating sorrow, I have broken free from you. All-destroying death, now you are conquered. On the wings I have gained I shall soar with ardent love into the light that no eye has seen! I shall die to find life. You shall rise again. Yes, you shall rise again, my heart, in an instant! What you have overcome shall bring you to God.

And so... do you ever have one of those days when seemingly profound ideas bounce around your head with depth of understanding that quickly fades into a twilight of oblivion before you can formulate it coherently? Yeah. This was one of those days and yes, most of it slipped far, far away, lol. I just know that at some point I was watching each member of the orchestra, at times all playing vigorously together, bows rising and falling frantically into the air, all horns blowing, flutists' fingers rapidly moving across the silver keys, lips pursed ... and then... a calm befell Royal Albert Hall. Some instruments were lowered. Only two of the three french horns in use, the third lying in wait. Half the bows with their accompanying violins and cellos sitting calmly, awaiting the moment they will once again be needed.

It became so clear why the "Symphony of Love" (aka "Symphony of Hearts" and "Symphony in the Key of Love", as comes up often in Jan's conversations with Michael) is not just a great metaphor, but exactly how life really is. Not life as humans would claim it to be, but as the Divine Plan deems it so.

It could be that the bass oboe is only needed for a few bars, or the timpani just for the finale, or the piccolo for the fleeting middle of the second movement. It could be that in order to make the symphony truly grand, fifteen violinists are needed, but only half play at once during much of the performance. That's how beautiful music is made! Sometimes it's your turn to shine, to play with all your might. Sometimes your neighbor is playing what you thought was your part, while you're supposed to sit it out and relax.

And while as a member of an orchestra you have the sheet music in front of you, in life it's awfully hard to see what's right in front of you, especially your own music. We keep looking over to the clarinets, thinking, "They're sure important right now! Maybe I should play the clarinet!" And some time later, "Wow, if only I had learned the trumpet I'd be at the top right now!" And later still, "Oh, the strings are so beautiful and I'm stuck with this stupid tuba!" Yet it becomes very clear as the music rises and falls that all are necessary, all are important. Sometimes the one with the "smallest" part makes an impact for just a few seconds that turns the mundane to pure heaven.

When we turn to look directly ahead and stop worrying about what everyone else is doing, we may notice the music stand sitting right in front of us. If we learn to focus and let outer distractions fall away, we may be able to see some of our own notes on the page before us. If we glance up from the orchestra floor and from what's right under our nose we may realize that a conductor is up there directing this entire symphony. She has the entire symphony orchestra before her! He knows all the parts and how they should fit together! She's aware of the slightest variation in pitch, when someone's out of tune, when the sound should be softer or when the intense staccato still isn't intense enough. He's holding us all together, helping us play our parts in perfect synchronicity. And not only that, if we pay attention to His direction we will play our part all the more magnificently, instead of randomly tooting our own horn at some inopportune time, lol. Once we begin to realize these things, we are able to glance back to the pages before us and at our individual notes, which will slowly become clearer.

We can't play all the parts or all the instruments, but what we do play is absolutely necessary for this crazy unending symphony, even when it feels like we're just one of 100 million violinsts blending into the background drone. Imagine the symphony without that soaring sound, though?! It could be that's exactly what you're supposed to be playing. In all honesty, this orchestra's tune is far too vast and too loud for human ears. To think you can hear the whole thing is to believe you can hear one harp in China... from the moon. You won't hear the whole thing while you're here, but it's being recorded for your later awe! So just pay attention to those little notes. Forget what the trombones are doing and look at your own music. Focus gently until your notes come into view, one page at a time. If you feel useless right now, focus until it's time once again to pick up your instrument and play your heart out.

At some point we may wonder if this conductor is also the composer. (I do, because I can't help but make everything complicated, lolol.) How was this divine music put together? I don't know. If you figure that out, please let me know... ;)

The Lotus in Michael's Hand

"The honey in the flower or lotus does not crave for bees; they do not plead with the bees to come. Since they have tasted the sweetness, they themselves search for the flowers and rush in. They come because of the attachment between themselves and sweetness." ~ Sri Sathya Sai Baba

"O God, my mind is fascinated with Thy lotus feet as the bumble-bee with the flower; night and day I thirst for them." ~ Guru Nanak

When the background picture for this blog was chosen, it was basically on a whim because I had no specific plans for what it all should look like. The chosen pic turned out to set up the entire color scheme and simply felt right. To me this particular photoshop represents Michael being shone down upon from the heavens (the shining light) as he channels this energy through his being (as he often talked about himself - of being merely the messenger, the means to deliver what was already created above) and it concentrates into the gift within his hand, the gift he is extending to us and to all who are willing to reach for it and accept it. (In this sense it is not just Michael per se, but all who play the role of guide.) What is that gift? Certainly not something easily defined. Aren't we all still grappling with these questions? It's something universal and yet very personal. The lotus itself to me represented the feeling of cosmic awakening, the invitation to look beyond and yet to go within where we are one, something sacred and existing of love, held out for the seeker, brought to us from God/Higher Selves by a special teacher who has opened our hearts. It's a very spiritual symbol, after all. Here's some more information below about lotus symbolism. Thought it all rather fitting:

• The holiest of flowers for Hindus, the beautiful lotus is symbolic of the true soul of an individual. It represents the being, which lives in turbid waters yet rises up and blossoms to the point of enlightenment. Mythologically speaking, lotus is also a symbol of creation, since Brahma, the creator came forth from the lotus that blooms from the navel of Vishnu. (1)

• Pink Lotus: This the supreme lotus, generally reserved for the highest deity. Thus naturally it is associated with the Great Buddha himself. ..."In esoteric Buddhism, the heart of the beings is like an unopened lotus: when the virtues of the Buddha develop therein, the lotus blossoms; that is why the Buddha sits on a lotus bloom." (2)

• Because they emerge from slime and corruption, then grow up through the purifying water to emerge into the sunlight, they are seen as metaphors for the development of the individual being towards enlightenment. That is, the flower stands for renunciation of the entanglements of samsara, and for the pure aspiration that is the desire for enlightenment for the sake of others. ... The "lotus" depicted in tomb paintings of ancient Egypt ...is also known as the "lily of the Nile." It is not a true lotus, but a blue water lily Nymphaea caerulea.(3)

• The lotus is the pre-eminent symbol in the non dual traditions. In Hinduism it is associated with the creation mythology featuring the gods Vishnu, Brahma, and Lakshmi as well as most other dieties. In Buddism, the Buddha and various dieties are portrayed seated on and/or holding lotuses. In Egyptian mythology the term has been misapplied to the water lily by translators of their hieroglyphics and in references to its motif in art and architecture.(4)

• It embodies the Buddhist ideas of transcendence, purity, and non-duality. In point, the lotus is the symbol of the absolute, sustaining the phenomenal world. ... In Tibetan Buddhist art, it is very common for images of Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and other prominent figures to be depicted as resting upon an open Lotus flower. ... The Lotus also acts as a metaphoric guide to those who are engaged in ...the direction of realizing complete, unchastened enlightenment. ... The flower gracefully accepts the pool that it is placed in and shines beautifully in negation of circumstance. (5)

• Hindus revere it with the gods Vishnu, Brahma and to a lesser degree Kubera, and the goddesses Lakshmi and Sarasvati . Often used as an example of divine beauty and purity, Vishnu is often described as the 'Lotus-Eyed One'. ...Its unfolding petals suggest the expansion of the soul. The growth of its pure beauty from the mud of its origin holds a benign spiritual promise. ... The lotus in both Egypt and India symbolizes the union of the four elements; earth, air, fire, and water.... The growth of a new flower directly from the earth-bound original may be interpreted as a symbol of transcendence: a spiritual emergence of a higher world directly from our physical manifestation.(6)

"You are the wildflower in bloom, You are the Life-throb That pulsates, dances, From a speck of dust To the most distant star, And you and I Were never separate, It's just an illusion Wrought by the magical lens of Perception."
~ Michael Jackson ('Heaven is Here' / Dancing the Dream)

"Savior" - a poem with a story

All the dark moments that tore at my heart,
The days I thought there could be no start
Again for a life that's too much to take,
In a young mind, this moment puts all at stake,
When friends turned away and failed to give
What little would offer some hope to live,
And over the years in love's fighting trench,
How much could there be for the soul to wrench?
Then why soldier on with absurd fortitude,
What for is the hope to stay out of this mood?
But I always thought I would see you again,
And - to know what is coming next and when!
What tune will reach to my soul with such ease
That just living that moment's enough to please?
And where would your destiny take you still,
I could not leave it solely to their worldly will,
Would fate see it fit to cross our paths once more,
Or forever from afar would I still you adore?
It may sound naive or from hope springing hope,
But never could I leave you alone to cope,
For you saved me in ways I could never explain,
And if one wish of mine could just once do the same,
If my love had reached you for a moment of bliss,
For that one hope alone I could not bear to miss,
Still longing for a glimpse of that sparkle of white,
Cast out to the darkness, the sweetest of light,
And together, yet far, so I promised to stay,
To not miss my savior for one blessed day.
~ 'Savior' © April 3, 2010 by D.M.

The poem 'Savior' was written in the spring of 2010, but its story begins back in 1986 and flows through many years. It starts in the midst of an issue that's recently received a lot of attention: bullying in our schools and the suicides that so tragically occur as a result. Kids can get bullied for many reasons and it can start at nearly any time. Situations can change, from moving to a new school to falling out with a group. Unforseen events can occur, as I know well. And when you're a young teen, you may as well be world famous when they do. What I mean by that is there is no escape. You feel like the whole world is out to get you and you can't get away. You have to go to school. You are forced to surround yourself with the very people who are making your life a living hell, and unless you're in a situation with a lot of support (rare, because often you don't even want to tell your family what's going on), you feel very alone. You feel like no one would truly understand, especially the adults who either ignore your torment or try to tell you to just be tough. And coming from the inexperienced perspective of a child or teen, that torment feels like it will go on forever. You feel it will never end. Well, it will and it does. Nothing lasts forever (for good and for bad). Many bullied kids go on to amazing careers, they get married, raise families, they have a life and are loved. We need to get that message through to them. What goes on in stupid (and trust me, it's stupid) junior high or middle school is NOT your whole life. It is one passing moment, painful as it may be, but it WILL pass. Please don't ever give up and don't let others tell you who you are. Don't give them that power over your mind and heart. When you grow up, being different or not fitting in now will most likely turn out to be a strength and an asset then. It might sound crazy, but it's the truth. (See the first comment below for links to support. As Michael sang, "You are not alone.")

So, when I was 14 I found myself accused of something I didn't do... of being a "snitch" and getting a group of "friends" in major trouble. I had never said a word, not one measly word, but that didn't matter. I guess it was because I was the newer addition to group and therefore less popular, easier to blame. We ended up with windows broken out of our house, there were threats of bodily harm and worse, nasty things written about me on lockers and walls. I was screamed at from cars, chased, etc. Even later when I was able to switch schools, the label followed me initially. And the tall tales grew crazier by the minute. Half the kids in the area believed that it had been "confirmed" by school officials that I was the "narc" and that it was because of me that several people on probation were tossed back into jail, juvey hall and/or were expelled. And it was all a lie! I spent a good year or so unable to leave the house alone for fear I'd get my jaw broken or be stabbed or something. To top it off, my best friend knew the truth, but never stood up for me. I didn't get along so well with my parents, so to my mind I had no one.

As I said, a teenager doesn't deal with this in the way an adult might. You're not yet equipped emotionally or experientially and days feels like weeks. When you're in the thick of it, it is all quite literally, deadly serious. The worst thing in the world in junior high is to have no friends and get hatred hollered at you everywhere you go. (Well, that may be one of the worst things to anyone, actually.) When you add the feeling of your life being under threat, it's on yet another level.

One night I was on the bed crying and decided that's it, I'm obviously not cut out for this world. It's a shame to throw in the towel so young, but I can't take the meanness and betrayal. If this is what life is going to be like, then forget it. I had to find a way to do away with myself... but how?

As I was pondering the 'how', my mind made up as to the course of action, a little voice somewhere inside reminded me of Michael Jackson. What a regretful thing that I would never get the chance to meet him or even be here to find out what his next album sounded like. He'd never know how I love him. And I would miss him, yes, for sure. And oh my, I hadn't even listened to Michael for what seemed like ages! My friends were big heavy metal fans and to fit in I'd been giving myself a steady dose of it, even adding a couple of creepy black light posters to my bedroom walls. I didn't even like the stupid things. What was I thinking? I got up in a daze and found my Thriller tape. I put my headphones on and pushed 'play'.

The glorious sounds of Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' filled my ears and that feeling of Michael that I always got deep in my soul began to bubble up. Oh, how I needed him suddenly! Oh, how I had missed his precious voice singing to my heart like this! I cried so hard then, aching to be his friend somehow, to be in his arms, for some comfort from somewhere in this darkness. And Michael was who I'd turned to. But still, I just felt sadness knowing I would be leaving this world soon, leaving him behind. And then came the line, written by him, sung by him, piercing right into my soul:

"Lift your head up high & scream out to the world, 'I know I am someone!' and let the truth unfurl! No one can hurt you now, because you know it's true! Yes, I believe in me, so you believe in you!"

I don't know what happened at that moment, but a change came over me. With tears streaming down my face, I thought, "You're right, Michael. I know. You're right. I'm sorry I'm so weak. I'll try. For you, I'll be stronger. And I really do not want to leave you."

I opened my eyes and looked around. Through tear-streaked vision, Michael's beautiful eyes looked back at me from pictures and posters throughout the room, and in the midst of this light I saw what didn't belong. To heck with my wanna-be friends and their music and their worldview. That's not who I really am. (Ok, I do like some metal, I admit, but never enough to want an Iron Maiden poster in my bedroom ;) In the next days or weeks those things came down and more Michael went up. His wavelength was what I felt inside and he was who I wanted to surround myself with. I vowed to never almost forget my beloved like that again. And so, thanks to Michael Jackson, I didn't try to kill myself at 14. I soldiered through, and was even blessed with being able to see him on the Bad Tour just two years later. And yes, eventually the whole 'narc' episode faded away as we moved on into high school and I made a great many new friends, a couple of which I'm still in contact with twenty years later. (So again ... it does get better.)

And I have to admit something. Through all the years, life has often not been easy. It rarely is. There's been joy, friendship, hope, laughter and love, but also job stress, financial problems, heartbreak, sadness and serious illness. There have been dark times when I wanted to give in to defeat and just end the whole miserable thing (not like one really could, since we go, but you know what I mean). I think we all feel like this sometimes, don't we? I realized something years ago, though: Whenever my mind would succumb to those thoughts, Michael was always just a step ahead. It might sound crazy, but the thought of leaving this Earth while Michael was still here was just unthinkable, and my mind would inevitably turn to thoughts of him, to the Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' episode years ago and how he had essentially saved me. And I didn't want to let him down. I wanted to be wherever he was and I didn't want to miss a thing! And I wanted to be here if he needed me. I owed it to him somehow to stay. Of course, Michael wasn't the only reason for not giving up (!), but he was always part of it. And he still is.

Thank you, Michael. I love you so much. For always and ever.

"I trust you... I'll always trust you."

Have you ever looked at your life and found that you've been drawn to particular themes and storylines, sometimes from a very young age, for seemingly no apparent reason? I'm not talking about the really basic ones like love or general heroics, but something more specific? If you're old enough to have had time to see things play out, perhaps you've even noticed that they strangely make sense later. I'll explain, if I can. Ever since 2009, I've had to rebuild myself from the complete devastation, one atom at a time, as many of you have. Part of this process finds me picking apart some of my childhood and looking at inner motivations and mysteries, while staying up all night babbling to myself, dancing around the living room with my mp3 player. In the process I've discovered (or rediscovered) things long forgotten. The particular ones I'm talking about right now (themes/stories) aren't necessarily something massive, and maybe it's just grasping at straws, but I have a sort of theory. I'll leave that for the end, though.

First, when I was a kid my favorite moments in movies and books were so often those that dealt with trust and loyalty, of steadfast honor and devotion when appearances or rumors may have indicated something suspicious. As an example, this clip below of a scene from the film "Legend" just pulled at my deepest within like crazy. I loved this scene, uh! And I always remembered the quote (this post's title). The story went like this: Lili ("Lily") was the pure, innocent princess who Jack trusted above all others and whom he wished to marry someday. However, when he showed her a beautiful secret (two unicorns in the forest), she reached out to pet one, not understanding that this was forbidden. The world soon turned to ice and everyone, including Jack and Lili, assumed it was due to this 'violation'. (However, it wasn't. She was actually innocent enough to touch one without repercussions.) Lili is then kidnapped by the 'dark lord', who tries to convert her to his side and make her his girl. It appears at one point that he has succeeded, as her appearance has changed dramatically and she is seemingly participating in a dark ritual ... sacrificing the last unicorn. If Lili does indeed cut the horn from its head, light will be extinguished from the world forever and evil will have triumphed. Jack believes he knows her heart and her soul, though, and he still trusts her. If he's wrong, the world ends. There's a lot at stake if Jack doesn't kill her before her sword falls:



^ That's one example of the trust theme I meant. Just one of many. It's when those around would think the main character crazy for still believing. Note that this is not misplaced trust. The loyalty here is born of a deep look into the soul and thus can be counted on.

Similar themes of "all is not what it seems / trust your heart" were played out in stories I actually wrote as a child, too. The two examples I'm giving were written before I ever discovered Michael Jackson, so bear that in mind. Around 10/11 years old we were supposed to write a story with a moral. As is the case with most stories I wrote (or read!) as a kid, there was way more going on in my head than what ended up on paper, but if I remember it correctly it was supposed to go like this:

A big, scary dragon lived in a cave just outside of town. Everyone was terrified of him. All manner of wild tales were told, of fire-breathing, torture and certain death. Knights were sent out to slay the dragon regularly, but didn't succeed. Someone (a knight? a child? I don't remember, but let's call him Sam for now) ended up near the cave and sure enough, there was fire-breathing! (But you'd breathe fire too if some yayhoo came to kill you.) Sam, like the others, eventually chickened out and ran away in terror, but not so far that he didn't hear the dragon sobbing in its cave moments later. Curiosity overcoming fear and Sam snuck back to the cave and finally asked him, "Why are you crying?" To his surprise, the dragon turned out not to be such a monster after all, but a sensitive, lonely magical creature, doomed to a life of ostracism and bad press, just for being himself. People just don't understand dragons, you know. The two of them sat around and chatted, becoming friends, and eventually Sam devised a plan to introduce his friend to the people of the town, to show them who this dragon really was. The people, however, wouldn't listen. They screamed and ran and threw stones and shot arrows, like usual. A dragon, it seems, simply was a monster to them. Period. Sam and his friend ended up having to leave the kingdom altogether to find their shared destiny elsewhere, in a land far, far away. (I guess this complicated moral is what earned me less than an A, lol? It was too much like real life, instead of the nice story of reconciliation and acceptance that we all want to hear.)

The next school year, when I was 11/12, one of my creative writing projects got published in our city's newspaper via a 6th grade writing contest. We had to choose a photo and write a short five or so page story about it. I chose a picture of an old tin-roofed mill beside a still pond. It went basically like this:

Jane is a girl of the my age at the time. She lives on a farm and likes to explore the countryside during the summer. Being a tomboy, she manages just fine on her own. One day she winds up all the way out by the pond and mill, where she's not really supposed to go. She walks around the water's edge to the mill and decides to take a break in the grass nearby and ends up watching the clouds and drifting off to sleep. She awakens when it's already too dark to see well enough to get all the way home. It begins raining. She sneaks into the mill for shelter. It's dark and dank inside and she's in for a real shock: there's a man staying in the abandoned mill! Initially she is startled and tries to run away, but then decides he seems alright. She learns that his name is Max and that he's a total drop-out from society. He had a great job in the big city, but found it all unfulfilling. He's a dreamer and an artist, seeing so much more in the world around him than others do. He goes from place to place with nothing but a rucksack and some charm, sleeping wherever he ends up for the night. Jane and Max stay up late talking, while he shares with her some of his food. He tells her about the hidden wonders around her that others have forgotten, like the rhythm that the rain beats on the metal roof as it falls, or the way the sunlight reflects in the dew-laden air at dawn. He opens her eyes and imagination to the magic within nature and tells her never to lose that, not to let society take away that childlike innocence in pursuit of adulthood. Eventually she drifts off to sleep and awakens early in the morning to find that Max is gone, away on another adventure in a new place. She realizes her parents are probably worried sick (you think?! - and hey, why didn't Max stay to make sure she got home safely? Oh wait... I was just 11, nevermind...), but she stops in time to see the mist over the lake glowing pink in the sunrise, beautiful and wondrous, just like Max said it would be. She vows to never forget him or his wisdom and runs on home, never to even tell the story of Max to her parents. (Smart enough, I suspect, to not give them a heartattack with the knowledge that their 11 year old daughter spent the night in a dangerous, delapidated building with a questionable adult male hippie transient, lol.)

Again, all three examples here pre-date my discovery of Michael in 1984, but I'm guessing those who would actually read this blog probably saw some parallels right away, such as: 1) trusting someone said to be an untrustworthy destroyer of innocence, because you know their heart, 2) the "monster" turns out not to be a bad guy after all, but instead is a misunderstood friend who just wants to be loved (ok, he does breathe fire sometimes, but he's a dragon - nobody's 'perfect'), 3) sometimes the rumors aren't true!, 4) and sometimes people want to believe the rumors anyway, no matter what you tell them, 5) you can't necessarily convert the ignorant ones to the light of truth, 6) your home kingdom may be filled with sensationalized BS about you, causing you to seek refuge elsewhere, but nevertheless you may find a friend or two close by, 7) the archetype of the magical teacher who comes into your life, opens your eyes to wonders, and is once again leaves, while you are forever thankful for the transformation, 8) adulthood can suck the life out of you, but it doesn't have to - you have a choice to retain something of the child within if you exercise the faculties of wonder and appreciation, 9) sometimes you have to go outside the ordinary to find your destiny, 10) those around you might not be so understanding about a kid forming a special connection with an adult outside the family.

And this leads to my theory in a roundabout sort of way. I realize all these things are classical dilemmas, archetypes, elements of myths and stories retold for ages. Yes, all true, but it's the particular draw and fact that I wrote those two stories at a young age that intrigues me. These are just scratching the surface of this subject, but what if we're drawn to issues that we have chosen to confont in this lifetime? What if a blueprint or outline of our life, a divine plan we helped create for ourselves before we were born, pulls at our psyche from birth? What if we have specific lessons to learn, special jobs to do, great dramas to play our part in and we know this at a deep level and thus bring those things up to confront over and over, as if to prepare ourselves for what's to come? Human beings are always looking for dangers around us, running scenarios to find solutions for escape, but what if there are primary issues at a soul level that echo through us years beforehand? Could someone be destined to save someone from a burning home when they're 40 and afterwards be stunned about it, because all their life they'd had this weird feeling about fire, dreams of a person trapped in a fire, etc? One could argue they were braver in the face of this danger because of their draw to the topic, but couldn't it be possible that they were drawn to the topic to prepare for this event?

Or is it just a self-fulfilling prophecy? How would we know? Maybe sometimes? But I don't think it's self-fulfilling that I wrote stories before even knowing who Michael was (in 1982 to 1984 - when the world LOVED him) about a misunderstood dragon hated in his own land because of false assumptions and rumors, that "I", the human in the story befriends, or of straying from the typical path and ending up sharing a secret connection with a man who is a magical teacher, showing me the wonders of remaining childlike and looking for beauty. Actually, this kind of blows my mind. It sounds too 'good' to be true, but it's really the tip of the iceberg. A giant one it's taken years to realize is even there. But I'm not writing this post today to try to convince anyone of anything. If that were so, I'm guessing I'd have done a pretty poor job by this point, lol. I'm just thinking out loud, really. So what about you? Do you find similar things in your life?

"My friend, my someone in the dark, was you..."

First Post, New Blog

I've written much these last two years. And mean much, lol. There are forums full and enough Facebook craziness to fill eons of time. Then there are all the mountains of things I have never written. I've always sucked as a penpal and failed as a journal bunny. And there was so much that could have been written, but it seemed more therapeutic to me to go through it all while pacing my living room at 3am, headphones on ears, tears on cheeks. Oh, all those nights - the long, long nights after June 25, 2009 - for months on end, in which the loss of Michael from this physical world left me shredded, destroyed, attempting to reconstruct every atom of my being from the inside out. I was "lucky" in the sense that I didn't have a "normal job" at the time and could mourn from the depths of my being, which would be a severely understated way to put it. If I'd have had a job I guarantee I'd have been fired. It was doing good just to stay alive and keep breathing day to day without the beautiful man who'd somehow been my oxygen for all these years. I could never explain to anyone who doesn't get it just how much I LOVE Michael Jackson... since I first discovered him in the 80's until forever. He is deeper in my heart than my own DNA, deeper in my soul than ... I don't know what or who, how or why. He just is. And he continues. He is forever, not just in my heart, in your heart and through this world, but for those of you who know... absolutely, without a shadow a doubt in the next. Bless you, my beautiful Love, Michael. I'm yours, forever and always.

Let the blog begin...