Michael Jackson

I went into a cafe today for lunch and all around me his name emerged, coming up through the crowd buzz. A voice behind me said, "He was one weird dude."

I remembered when someone had emailed me the news of his death. I immediately got online to try to learn what had happened. All I found were sites where he was ridiculed, jokes, photos with derogatory comments. It was so soon after his death that there wasn't even a news blog yet.

A friend even emailed me a joke about him.

As someone who has been exploited quite blatantly throughout my life, most recently on a scale that could well have impacted me in terms of millions of dollars, I have a pretty good idea exactly why Michael Jackson was, "One weird dude."

My own experiences are horrendous enough. I can't imagine what it must have been like for someone so incredibly gifted, to try to exist in some kind of normalcy while surrounded by the sharks that inevitably ride the crest of the wave of such gifts.

There is no doubt in my mind that the accusations against him were an avenue for someone to profit from his wealth and fame.

The poor guy was such an easy target throughout his life. He began as a thing of utter beauty, dancing at the pinnacle of his creative genius, and then we all watched as he gradually disintegrated before our eyes. His overt attempts to shield himself from the barrage of public onslaught were manifested in ways that only set him up for further attack.

I hope that somewhere along in his journey, he was able to find a true friend. If he ever did, my heart goes out to that person today.

I continue to be boggled by the sheer number of narcissists in the world. They are literally everywhere, swarming to feed on the tender hearted, and the gifted who are brave enough to pursue their dreams. This world is a virtual blood bath of takers and users.

I apologize to those among my blog followers who are accustomed to a sunny post about art or animals. I'm not gifted in anywhere close to the same scale, but nonetheless I am identifying with Michael Jackson. I hope that in some ways, these wounds have carved me deeply enough to have a true perception of others who are wounded. I hope I can recover enough to be an example to those who have to overcome obstacles like this. Michael Jackson sought his refuge in the attempt to keep children as his peers; to, "never grow up". I seek mine in a similar innocence; the world of animals and nature and those who love them.

I hope that, in a few months, when I google Michael Jackson, what comes up in the search will be primarily his music, his performances, his amazing dancing. He was an incomparable icon, a cultural enigma. I hope this is the part of him that lives on. I hope this will mean that the world has come to a realization about him: This is our loss.