他是镜中人，也是为我们展示镜中景象的人（翻译完成）

shell88

“我未曾象他爱我一样爱他”，一位曾经对MJ有所怀疑的人表达了他的悔恨。
虽然写的都是我们已经知道的事情，但也代表了一部分以前只欣赏他的音乐而不了解他的为人的人的认识转变。

Michael: Thank you for the mirror-more thoughts about Michael and This is it
迈克尔, 为镜子感谢你 - 关于迈克尔和《就是这样》的更多思考

文/Barbara Kaufmann
翻译/shell88

在一些人一去不返时，我才再一次因为从前没有好好地欣赏他们而感到羞愧。对迈克尔·杰克逊（Michael Jackson），我就是这样。现在我称呼他的名字，是因为了解了他的为人——只在他去世和看了他的电影《就是这样》（This Is It）之后。

最终我理解了迈克尔这个人，既作为人类和富有创造力的天才。我看到了他对人类和这个星球难以置信的爱……都来自于这个非凡的人。

当你聆听到他的歌词，就知道他是什么样的人……

“治愈世界，
使它成为更好的地方
为你、为我、为整个人类。
不断有人死去，
如果你真心关爱生者，
营造一点空间，
使它成为更好的地方”

“当他们问为什么，为什么？告诉他们这就是人性。
为什么，为什么这样对待我？”

“我从镜中人开始，
我要求他作出改变，
没有比这更清楚的信息，
如果你想使世界成为更好的地方，
反省自己，作出改变。”

看完电影后，我坐在停车场，哭泣了近一个小时。不知道为什么，我不由自主地流泪。我不想电影结束，不想离开，不想遗漏这种魔力，我不愿他离开。

我最后意识到这是谢幕演出，再也没有机会与他在一起——去消除怀疑，去得到原谅。我因为悲伤而不能移动——我曾背叛他、忽视他、驱赶他、质问他，怀疑他。我的眼泪是因为……这太过分了。随着他的离去，这个世界失去了一些难以言表的、难以描述的东西，失去了一些光明的东西。因为迈克尔有许多爱。因为我感受到他的孤独、他的脆弱。但最深的是，我为这世界失去一道光亮而悲伤。我现在仍然在悲伤。

我过去总疑惑迈克尔是否犯了那些被控告的罪。我为自己的感觉而烦恼，如果控告是真的我会反感。我是说如果。你知道，我随着杰克逊五的音乐长大，而我的孩子随着迈克尔的音乐长大。如果迈克尔是有罪的，我感到这将是对我和对我的孩子的背叛。当他最后被宣布无罪时我感到高兴，但不是每个人都相信他是清白无辜的。我承认，在我意识深处的小角落，我还是疑惑。控告带来怀疑。

看了《就是这样》，我现在知道了真相。迈克尔从未有意伤害任何人。我看到他对乐队中的音乐家难以置信的友善，他要求音乐总监要求作到完美时说“让我们作好它”，他尽力使人愉快。我看到他事必躬亲，对歌者、音乐家、舞者无限的耐心，他们一起工作使演出尽善尽美。我听到人们对他说话时屈尊俯就的语气，而他还以亲切和耐心。我听到迈克尔作为领导者、指导者和大师，用比喻来使他们领会他的意图。我听到迈克尔作为导师，要求他们分享激情、让天赋闪亮。我看到他的手势表达着言语所不能及，我看着温柔和天才在他的姿态和手势中闪现。

迈克尔被上百万人热爱和崇拜——歌迷和朋友们。这种爱和一种艺术家之间的赞赏在那些观看他彩排的《就是这样》演唱会演职人员和工作人员中闪耀着。迈克尔在彩排，也在传授。他绝对的清澈令人震惊。他对超验、神秘、创造性张力的理解，尤其是对魔术和隐喻的应用，把人们带到超越平凡的地方，通过情感的隧道，到达从未到过和想像过的地方，他是那样天才。我们每个人的深处某个地方都有一种天分，但习俗、传统、条件和文化的界限阻挡了我们到达那样的高处。他在表演中的清澈和引领是一种谦逊的完美。

由于早年成名和财务上的成功，他没有我们平常人那种困于日常谋生、磨损了想象的压力，他的想象力和创造力可以尽情发挥。迈克尔很早就开始了演艺生涯，他的童年与众不同。带着天赋，他在广阔世界中尽情耕耘，到达奇迹和创造的王国。没有平常界限的生活带来巨大的灵感和雄心，也带来了痛苦、背叛和被误解的折磨。迈克尔超越了极限，他无情地、努力地超越着。他是演出者、商人和天才。他的作品充满了巨大的天才，尤其是他的演唱会，是超越体验的。 “超验”带我们超越自我，带我们和整个世界到更高处，我们变得更加充实了。迈克尔把这些可能展现给我们，因而被热爱着。他是镜中人，也是为我们展示镜中景象的人。

我一直喜爱他的舞蹈，但疑惑一些舞蹈中性的“超讽”。目睹他的创造过程后，我现在明白了，那来自摇摆的激情，不是因为他想要或必须，而是因为那来自他本身，通过身体显现。迈克尔音乐中逼人的鼓点，驱使身体移动、旋转、跳跃，吼叫和扭摆。能量聚集在下腹和太阳经，因为它来源于“激情的主宰”。强烈的激情，它就是纯粹热情的语言。北印度语中有一个词，用来命名这种热情的扭摆，来自于人身体某处的基本能量，此处精神和物质、身体和灵魂相结合。这是能量的孕育，力量的产生和强烈释放—产生创造、成为创造。冲动的能量不断升温，从下腹和太阳经沿着脊骨上升。这是昆达利尼（Kundalini）力量、生命之液所在， 是很有爆发力的。就象高潮一样，创造的能量沿着脊骨上传身体的震波。显然迈克尔在音乐中体会到这些，它通过他和他的身体在音乐中爆发。

《就是这样》留给我的问题：

你怎么应对世界上千万人爱着你但你却不能出门的矛盾？你过着怎样的生活？不能在百货商店的走廊中推着购物车；当你的CD打折时不能去音像店；不能去看棒球赛；从未独自一人，但却非常非常孤独？你怎样将孤独感倾注于作品中？当你与人交往时，如何分辨他是真心对你还是利用你的名气？你怎能如此羞涩，却又这么才华横溢？当音乐萦绕心中时你怎能从不拒绝表达出来？你怎能数小时排练至精疲力竭， 因为你必须把创作的天才与世界分享？你怎能在这个满是阴暗的世界上屹立成超级巨星？你怎样不停写作，歌颂光明，或批判黑暗？当黑暗要毁灭你时你是如何生存下来的？我现在明白了，那是一个召唤——没有人能够抗拒它，因为被它彻底征服了。是的，迈克尔受到了召唤，看看他的歌词吧——大部分都是祈愿。

你是如何无遮拦地生活在公众目光之下？对一些人来说你就是一切，而另一些人对你永远也不满意。你是如何在“公众审视”之下坚定前行，而不甘于作投机取巧者的活靶子？你如何忍受无德的利用者、无休止的诽谤，将你的意识、你的世界根本无法想像的罪名强加于你？你怎能隔日出现在法庭上，去听他们责难你、撕扯你、毁灭你？你怎能从床上起身、换掉睡衣? 你爱着孩子们是因为他们的奇妙和天真，然而当你被宣判无罪而仍然被指责，你怎么办？当有人骗取你的信任，把好的东西剪辑掉，把剩下的小报谣言汇成片子称为记录片，这样你怎能再去信任？ 法律系统的疯狗思维执意要毁灭你，你是如何生存下来的？这一系统本来不是应该保护你的吗？ 你是如何收拾起不经意地转身中那些生命的碎片？在其中和其后，你是如何为了生命而展现？

也许你可以成为一个隐士，寻找一些东西去钝化痛苦，让残忍和疲惫走开。也许暂时不理会这个世界。或许找一、两个医生帮助你缓解伤痛、试图治愈自己。那被贪婪者吞噬的肉体碎片，还能修补吗？伤口有多深？深达灵魂或只是深至骨髓？

你怎样忍受着长久的侮辱、诽谤和谎言？太多太多，太痛苦，以至于要麻木了。你是如何做到没让这些使你的心灵变得坚硬？你是如何忍受那些关于你容貌的闲言碎语？哦，那是你用来向世界表达情感的脸。你如何忍受损耗你身体的红斑狼疮和破坏容貌的白癜风？那是你得向世界展现，赖以谋生的脸啊。你得在伞下生活，因为阳光会使你的皮肤白斑加重。你尽力与疾病斗争，接受必要的治疗，但治疗使你肤色更苍白。你是如何应对那些刺痛你的成堆的嘲笑、恶意的评论？你是如何度过不能在阳光下海滩嬉戏的生活？多么希望，“我们”曾经爱着和接受本来的你，我希望我们曾在意念中拥抱你和你的脸。但世界对于瑕疵和不完美是那么不友善。但你知道这点，对吗？作为完美主义者和艺术家，你改变自己的外表。你总是同情那些受压迫的、残疾的、外形丑陋的人，你比我们任何人更多靠近他们。这些你却从未告诉我们。

你如何向这个已经偏离、不再纯真的世界解释，孩子们喜欢粘着你是因为你是一个传奇？一个超越生命、在童年和青春期的绝望中带来希望、带给他们难以言表的激励的人？是的，他们在你身上看到彼得·潘，他们因此爱你，乐于接近你，因为你体现了无所畏惧的欢乐和奇迹，而这些正是他们感觉正从自己身上溜走的。这个长大的世界失去了单纯“相信”的那种无邪。你如何解释，孩子们踯躅着，执着于一些缥缈的、无法定义的东西？而你知道那是什么，并希望他们能拥有它更长久一些。你如何解释，他们开始发现如果放弃你（更多你所代表的东西），就不得不面对一个绝望的现实：人们并不太关心这个世界和它存在的方式。

我们是否离被遗忘的童年太远了呢？

你怎样不具名地支付孩子们的假肢、移植，不知在哪个医院，不知在哪个国家，同时承受着“伤害儿童”的诬告？你怎样承受着那些尖刻的咒骂？那些人没听到你是无罪的。或是由于他们自身的阴暗而听不到。你永远不可能伤害小孩子，因为你自己就是魔力和奇迹的“孩童”的体现，我们所有人有时不得不承受灼痛和撕裂的伤口，那失去的纯真。你的纯真是那样非凡以至于他们要来毁灭它？那么多黑暗能掩盖你的光辉吗？你怎能再回到梦幻庄园？我猜你不会回去了。

迈克尔，你是离世的、隐藏的。富有创造力的天才经常如此。你按自己的节奏前进，因为不喜欢这个星球的拍子，这个你降生的星球。你是活的彼得潘，因为这个世界不是适合你生活的地方，在这里你脆弱的灵魂不能得到滋养或茁壮。彼得·潘比真实的世界拥有更健全的心智，直至最后一刻，你仍然努力想把世界变成更好的地方。转身避开这个不理解你的世界是多么容易啊，这是可以理解，甚至是可预料的。但你是一直是创造意外的大师。你是怎么做到，仍然继续关爱着这个世界？

迈克尔·杰克逊真是一个被低估的矛盾体，但在他最后的演出中很明显。他的谦逊、澄澈、不摆架子、从不自大的人格，与他撼动世界的时刻相“矛盾”，他的羞涩与巨星身份形成反差。在《就是这样》中，这是真正的迈克尔——一个矛盾体，一份荣耀。假如迈克尔未曾真正理解：来自意识的黑暗能量无法与真正的纯真无邪相容，那又会怎样？创造性或创造冲动？这个世界未能好好欣赏他这个令人惊奇的礼物——既是狮子又是羔羊。是的，世界把又一只羔羊钉上十字架，而他却曾是照亮世界的光芒。再一次的，也许迈克尔知道这一点，最终，他唱着“人性”。

也许直到现在我们在了解他，直到他的离去，直到《就是这样》。如果他还在，我将不会遇到真正的迈克尔，不会去了解他。我将不会看到天才、创造力的脉动、引领中的澄澈、对神圣力量和责任的拥有，他知道自己拥有这些。我将不会了解到音乐中的迈克尔和迈克尔中的音乐。我不敢想多少次这个男人站出来，不知道自己的回归将会引发厌恶还是爱。但他最终回到舞台——他愿意给我们和世界另一个机会。这本来将把他带回给我们，也把我们带回给他，这是我能肯定的。世界是否能欣赏这一冒险中的度量，这一礼物？我们不知道。至少，他从未放弃世界，和我们。

我在想谁能承接他的角色——不是“流行音乐之王”，而是世界的啦啦队长和人道主义者。他说什么语言？他怎样得到全世界的关注？迈克尔讲的是音乐的语言，他说过他能触及大众。由于他广受爱戴，他能动员军队、聚集人群、以最不同寻常的、最壮观的方式创造故事。他是带着使命的人，由于他是这样的人，他能指引上百万的听众。他使用音乐——最流行最通用的语言来传扬他的信息。他争取了最合适的听众——年轻人。他明白年轻人是未来和世界的希望，他的信息是拯救世界、关爱儿童及天下一家。他的信息能向全球一代又一代的人们广为传递，谁能作到这些？在内心深处我们知道，再也不会有另一个迈克尔。我们、这个世界没有好好珍惜他。事实上，我们对他不太好。现在，他离开了。

看着这电影，这些迈克尔本来无意发行的东西，使我感觉好像一个偷窥者，看着一个男人将他的灵魂展露给审判。我感觉入侵了一个神圣的地方，但我为此而感激。我现在了解了一个叫迈克尔的男人的灵魂。他喜欢巨大的东西。我一直爱他的天才，但没有爱这个人，这是不够的。

我从迈克尔得到的最后礼物是意识到：《镜中人》必是我的最爱歌曲，它甚至包含比甘地的“要想改变世界，就先改变自己”更深的信息。这个星球上有些人更早地、更长时间地看到了他的光芒，他们从未怀疑，因为他们必然是在迈克尔身上看到了自己光芒的投射。就象有些人看到的是他们自身阴暗的投射。真不希望是这样，以他的离去为代价，才使我看到迈克尔·杰克逊身上的光芒，我的明镜。我未曾象他爱我一样爱他。

原文：http://onewordsmith.blogspot.com ... rror-gift-from.html

（来源：MJJCN.com）

Myfavorite

世上有没有后悔药吃?世上有没有令时空倒转的方法?世上有没有改写历史的人?   我想要时空倒转到2008,我想要2009 6月25那天的历史完全改写,我想要伦敦演唱会成功举办,我想要MJ还在我们身边,我想要MJ幸福的生活下去.......................如果有的话,我愿意用我的生命去换!

jiangtjchina

虽然，以前我就爱他，相信他，可从来没为他做过什么，在他去后，我才开始真正了解他，好想有机会去为他赎罪

alextoalex

周五就看见这篇文章了，在各大MJ的论坛传的很火。这是我迄今读过的最好的一篇纪念MJ的文章，英文好的TX推荐好好读读，非常感人。
该文还配了一个纪念的视频，作的也非常好，帮你发上来了。

Rolly

yaoxubo_1

等翻译……

susuxiao

谢谢LZ分享！

doris1970

文情并茂的好文章,快快翻译,让更多人都看到吧!!

94年

等翻译!!

不过开头几段起得平平, 希望后面很精彩!!

shell88

Michael: Thank you for the mirror-more thoughts about Michael and This is it


原文http://onewordsmith.blogspot.com ... rror-gift-from.html

Once again I stand guilty of not appreciating someone enough until they are gone never to return. And so it is with Michael. I call him by his first name now because I know him personally—but only so after his passing and only after seeing his movie “This is It.”

I finally understand Michael the man, both the human being and the creative genius, and I see the incredibly wide love for people and the planet… that came from this singular figure.

One listen to the lyrics of his songs will tell what the man was made of…

“Heal the World
Make it a better place
For you and for me and the entire human race.
There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a little space
Make a better place.”

“When they say why, why? Tell ‘em that it’s human nature.
Why, why do you do me this way?”

“I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change.”

I sat in the parking lot and cried for most of an hour after leaving the movie. I didn't know why. The tears were not voluntary. In the theatre I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leak the magic. I didn’t want him to be gone.

I felt the finality of that curtain call and realized that I couldn’t have another chance with him—to rescind my doubt. I wanted forgiveness for ever having it. I felt immobile with sadness—in betraying him, in overlooking him, in dismissing him, in questioning him, in doubting him. The tears were because... there are no do overs. Because the world lost something un-named and un-namable with his passing. Because it was something bright. Because Michael held so much love. Because I felt his loneliness. His vulnerability. But mostly I grieved for the light gone out in the world. I still do.

I had always wondered if Michael was guilty of the things people accused him of doing. I had agonized over my own feelings, my own repulsion if the accusations were true. Over the what ifs. You see, I grew up with the Jackson 5 and my children gew up with Michael's music. I felt if Michael was guilty it would be a personal betrayal and a betrayal of my children. I rejoiced when he was finally found “not guilty” but not everyone accepted his innocence and I confess, in the back of my mind in a little corner, I always wondered. Accusation does that- creates doubt.

After seeing “This is It” I now know the truth. Michael Jackson never deliberately hurt anybody. Ever. I didn’t miss his incredible kindness to musicians in his band; his “we’ll get it done” assurance to his musical director who wanted his contribution to be perfect because it was, after all, Michael Jackson he was trying to please. I saw his infinite patience with the singers, musicians and dancers as he worked hands on with them to polish their performances. I heard the patronizing tones in the voices of people addressing him and his gracious and patient replies. I heard Michael the leader, teacher and master who used metaphor to help them feel his intentions. I heard Michael the guru who urged them to share the spotlight and shine with their own talent. I saw his hands say what his words could not and I watched the tender and not so tender genius in those gestures and those hands.


Michael was beloved and adored by millions-- fans and friends. That love and a kind of artist-to-artist admiration beamed from the sparse audience that made up his cast and crew for the concert tour that was to be "This is It." Michael was teaching them as well as rehearsing. His absolute clarity was stunning. His understanding of transcendentalism, mystery, creative tension and especially using magic and metaphor to take people to places beyond ordinary awareness and through the tunnel of emotion-- to a place they had never been and never imagined was genius. All of us have that talent somewhere inside us but convention, tradition, condition and cultural boundaries can prevent us from going there. Performance anxiety runs much deeper than stage fright. His clarity in performance and leadership was humble perfection.


Because of his early recognition and financial success, very few of the limits and demands of everyday life that press upon us and drain juice from our imagination, wonder and creative impulse touched Michael. Michael's stardom began very early in life; his childhood was anything but average. And with his talent, he cultivated unrestricted access to most of the world and certainly to the creative realm of wonder and invention. Living most of his life without healthy boundaries brought great aspirations and ambition but also intense pain, betrayed trust and the anguish of being constantly misunderstood. Michael pushed the envelope; he pushed relentlessly and hard. He was showman, businessman and genius. The grand genius of his works, and especially his concerts were the transcendental experiences. "Transendental" takes us somewhere else beyond the personal self, to a place where the self and the world become something more and we become something more. Michael was loved for what he showed us was possible. He was the man in the mirror and the one holding it up for us to look.

shell88

I always loved his dancing but wondered why the sexual “beyond innuendo” in some of it. Watching him in the act of creation—I now understand that it comes from the passion of someone who “rocks it” not because he wanted to or had to but because that was what came through him, through his body. The driving beat of Michael’s music carries an intensity that demands the body move, gyrate, leap, growl and grind. The intensity centers in the groin and solar plexus because it comes from the “seat of emotion.” Intensely emotional, it is the language of pure passion. Hindis have a name for that passionate grinding, grounding energy that rises from the place in the human body where spirit meets matter, where physicality meets soul. It’s the energy of gestation, birth, genesis, of force and forceful release—that rises into and becomes creation. It’s the impulse energy that rushes hot and upward along the backbone from the groin and solar plexus. It is the place of the Kundalini force, the juice of life. And it’s explosive. Like orgasm, that creation energy sends waves of physical earthquakes up the backbone. It is obvious that Michael felt it in his music; it exploded through the music, through him and through his body.

“This is It” left me with some questions:

How do you live with the paradox that millions of people around the world love you but you cannot leave your home? How do you never push a cart down the aisle in a grocery store? Never enter a music store where your recordings are on sale? Never go to a baseball game, a parade, a zoo or picnic in a park with your children? How do you never be left alone yet be so very, very alone? How do you write so well of loneliness? And when you’re with people, how do you sort out if someone is being authentic with you or playing to your public persona? How do you be so painfully shy and have such massive talent that it cannot be contained? How do you never say no when and because the music hounds and haunts until it comes through you? How do you rehearse for hours to exhaustion because you can’t NOT share the bigness of your creative genius with the world? How do you stand up and be a superstar in a world with so much shadow? How do you keep writing lines that highlight or attack that shadow? How do you survive when the shadow turns on you? I understand now it was a calling—the kind that no one could turn their back on because it possesses them. Oh yes, Michael was called. Look at his lyrics—most of them are prayer.

And how do you live so naked in public light knowing that for some, you are everything and for others, you will never be enough? How do you remain steadfast in the the beacon called “public scrutiny” allowing yourself to be a larger than life target for opportunists? How do you bear continuing vilification perpetuated by unscrupulous exploiters when the unthinkable accusation doesn’t even live in your consciousness, your world? How do you come to show up for court another day to listen to them excoriate you, shred your very personhood, destroy who you are being? How do you get out of bed? Out of your pajamas? How do you reconcile being accused alone even if found “not guilty” of unspeakable acts to children when you have always loved children because of their wonder, their innocence? How do you trust ever again after someone gained your confidence and left the best part of you on the cutting room floor and called the remainder tabloid film a documentary of your life? How do you survive a mad dog mentality in the legal system bent on destroying you? The very system that is supposed to protect you? How then do you gather up the carelessly flung about pieces of your life? And in the midst of it, or in its aftermath, how do you even show up for life?

Maybe you become a recluse and look for something to dull the pain and make the brutality and exhaustion go away. Maybe to make the world go away for awhile. Maybe you even find a doctor or two who will give a little something that helps to ease your woundedness while you try to heal yourself. Can the missing chunks of flesh chewed by those who wanted a pound, be patched? How deep is the wound? Weary soul deep or just weary bone deep?

How do you bear a lifetime of insults, slurs and lies too many to address and too tormenting to allow inside because it would paralyze you? How do you not let it harden your heart? How do you bear comments about your face? My god, your face! The only thing you can be in, express to the world, telegraph your emotions with. How do you live with Lupus, a disease that wants to consume your body and Vitiligo, a disease that mars your face? The face that presents you to the world, the face you make a living with? How do you live under umbrellas because the sun makes the blotching of your skin that much worse? When you do the best you can with the treatments that are necessary but that bleach your skin whiter, how do you navigate being the butt of thousands of jokes and unkind remarks that impale you? How do you survive without one single day in the sun romping at the beach? I wish "we" could have loved and accepted you just the way you were. I wish we could have cradled you and your face with our minds. But the world is not kind to blemish and imperfection. But you knew that didn't you Michael? Being the perfectionist and artist you were, you kept changing your face. You always empathized with the dowtrodden, disabled and disfigured-- you were closer to them than any of us knew. You hid it from us so well.

shell88

How do you explain to a world that is too far gone and will never be innocent enough again to understand that boys loved to hang out with you because you are a legend? A bigger than life greatness that gives them hope in the descending despair of childhood and adolescence, a someone who gives them something undefined to aspire to? That, yes, they see the Peter Pan in you, love you because of it, and want to be close to you because you embody that unabashed joy and wonder that they feel slipping from them. The thing that the world-in-becoming-grown up lost when it lost the innocence of simple “believing?” How do you explain that boys are hanging out to hang onto something so gossamer that it can't be defined? But you too, know what it is and want them to have it just a little longer. How do you explain that they are beginning to discover that if they let go of you, (more what you represent) they will have to confront the despairing reality that they don’t care much for this world the way it is either.
Are we all so far out from childhood that we don’t remember?

How do you pay for children’s’ artificial limbs and transplants in an unknown act in an unknown hospital in an unknown country meanwhile bearing an accusation of deliberately causing harm to children? How do you navigate the vitriolic damnation of some who haven’t heard you were found not guilty? Or couldn’t hear it because of their own shadow? When it would never occur to you to hurt a little boy because you, yourself conspire to always embody the magic and wonder for the "boy" in all of them and for the sake of all of them? We all have to bear sometime that one searing and rending wound, the loss of innocence. Was your innocence so great that it took that to destroy it? Did it require that much shadow to cover the light that you were? How do you ever return to Neverland? I guess you don’t.

Oh, yes you were eccentric, Michael. And sheltered. Creative geniuses usually are. Yes, you marched to your own drummer. Only because you didn’t like the beat or the vibe of this planet, the one you landed on at birth. Yes, you were Peter Pan in the flesh but only because the world was not a place where you could live, where your fragile spirit could be nourished or thrive. Peter Pan held more sanity than the real world. Yet up until the very end, you were still trying to make it a better place! It would have been so much easier to turn your back on a world that didn’t understand you. It would have been understandable. Even expected. But then you always were a master of the unexpected. How is it, Michael that you could or would continue to care?

That Michael Jackson was truly a contradiction is understated but evident in his last appearance. His humility, clarity, unassuming and egoless private persona certainly “contradicts” the moments he “rocks it.” His shyness contradicts his superstar status. In “This is It,” Michael is truly being Michael— the contradiction. The glory. What if that Michael truly never understood the dark energies that come from minds that cannot comprehend true innocence and genuine naiveté? The creative or creation impulse? What an incredible gift to the world yet the world didn’t appreciate him well—both lion and lamb. Yes,the world crucified yet another of our lambs who was a (oh yes he was!) light unto the world. And then again, perhaps Michael did understand. He sang, after all, about “human nature.”

And maybe we never knew him until now. Until he was gone. Until “This is It.” Were he still here, I would not have met the real Michael. I would not have known him. I would not have seen the genius, the creative impulse, the clarity of leadership, the ownership of the awesome power and responsibility that he knew he held. I would not have known the Michael in the Music as well as the music in Michael. I wince when I think about the number of times the man put himself out there not knowing if what would return would be revulsion or love. And yet he was staging a comeback—he was willing to give the world and us another chance. And it would have brought him back to us and us back to him; of that I am sure. Would the world have appreciated that magnanimity of the risk, the gift? We will never know. At least he never gave up on the world. On us.


I wonder who now will take over his role-- not as the "King of Pop" but as the world's cheerleader and hummanitarian? What language will she speak? How will he get the world's attention? Michael spoke in the language of music. It was because of the language he spoke that he was able to reach the masses. Because he was so widely beloved, Michael was able to mobilize forces, bring people together, and create story in the most unusual and spectacular ways. He was a man with a mission and because of who he was, he was able to command audiences of millions. He used music- a popular and universal language to trumpet his message. He used it to reach just the right audience- youth. Michael understood that young people hold the hope for the future and the world. And his message was about healing the world, caring for children and that "we are one." He was able to spread it universally to many generations and peoples around the globe. Who now is capable of that? We know in a quiet and secret place that there will never be another Michael. We, the world, didn't cherish him enough, in fact we didn't treat him very well and now he is gone.

Watching the movie, something Michael never intended for release, made me feel a little like a voyeur watching a man preparing to expose his soul to judgment. I felt like I had trespassed into sacred space. But I am grateful for it. I feel like I now know the soul of this man called Michael. He loved big. Oh, I always loved his talent, but I didn’t love Michael, the man. It wasn't enough.

And my final gift from Michael is the realization that “Man in the Mirror” which has to be my favorite song, has an even deeper message than “be the change you wish to see in the world” of Gandhi. There are some people on this planet who saw his light earlier, longer and who never doubted because they had to have seen in Michael, the reflection of their own light. Just like those to whom he reflected their darkest shadow. I wish it hadn’t taken his death to bring me the bright light that was Michael Jackson and the mirror of mine. I just didn't love him as much as he loved me.

johncean

这无涯的一场生~~

小孜孜

我杯具。。。
我看不懂。。。。
我在这等高手翻译..

Moonsky

我真的是这种感觉,自从家里挂满了迈的海报,就好象迈时时刻刻都在看着我一样,当我与海报中的迈对视时,他用清澈的眼睛看着我,他是我镜子里的人,指点我走路,指导我付出,指导我学会爱
I LOVE YOU MICHAEL!