Michael Jackson

A few years ago, my daughter and I were out to dinner, when she was distracted by the television behind the bar. “Mom, what’s…that?” she asked, and I turned around to see a news clip of Michael Jackson, whom she had never previously laid eyes on, being ushered through a crowd. She was about ten.

“Well,” I answered, “he’s a man...he's a famous pop star. He has some…issues…he’s had quite a bit of surgery…"

“But Mom, he doesn’t even look human !”

It didn’t seem fair or right that her first opinion was that he was, well, more than eccentric (although to be fair to her, in recent days I read two newspaper accounts that described him as looking like an alien). So I took her home and found that famous timeline made up of MJ’s changing visage, which I assume is being televised at this very moment.

After I showed her the transformation of MJ’s face online, we watched some music videos from Thriller, but she was still shaken up by her initial glimpse, and she never was able to absorb who he had been. (What she did do, though, was to ask me if I had a glove I no longer wanted.)

My own thoughts that evening centered on the King of Pop, too, having not seen Thriller videos in ages--they ignited memories--and I concluded, sadly, that he embodied all of our dysfunctions, writ large. All of our…baby boomer…dysfunctions. There WE were! His mtv-generation, a generation of relatively privileged, hip, savvy 40-somethings who had seen it all and who, with some help from the media, were focused on appearance and aging and comparisons and buying stuff…and potential cosmetic surgery. We have all the tools to help us look like we want to look. (Quite the topic among women: would you or wouldn’t you? I have been asked numerous times: will I color my hair when it begins to make me look…old? I have never been asked if I will get “work” done on my face because there is an assumption that a yoga teacher would never go there…but the hair! “I’d sooner shave it off,” has been the answer, knowing that there is a tantric breath…yes!…so I hear!…that has renewed at least one practitioner’s hair color. So I will see if my professed purity extends to my hair, once it, um, alters. Meanwhile, I do the breath.)

But Michael! All of our dysfunctions, insecurities, writ large! Our unwillingness to be seen! Our belief that we are not good enough! Our belief that we NEED MORE STUFF. Our compulsion to spend more money than we have. He is a caricature of how far we could go, both the highs and the lows. (How on earth can a person be $800 million in debt--or whatever it is? A part of me imagines that I could do that! If my handlers let me!) I know there is that part of me, as a baby boomer with credit cards, that would unwilling to give up my good stuff, to take a lifestyle cut…but fortunately I live from another part of myself, the part that knows that all of the stuff, and all the desire for the stuff, is truly an illusion. A part that trusts that I AM is enough. I am willing to live on nuts and berries, if need be, thank GOD! My yogic side knows that we are all One, and that everyone out there is a Divine Mirror. So look at Michael.

The evening of Lily's first MJ sighting, I thought, “What he needs is a good breathing session, daily yoga, a circle of friends who truly see him and honor him, friends who tell him that he is enough. A healing circle! An awakening!" I've never seen this NOT help someone get back in touch, in deep and profound ways. Most likely—I don’t know—but most likely his friends did tell him he was great, but he doubted their intentions, doubted they truly saw him. Most likely his level of trust was low, because what was its foundation? Most likely his level of belief that he could ever be great again was low. Most likely he thought that his best years were behind him. Most likely he thought that no one ever really saw him—that they saw an icon. And then…most likely, the wounds of his childhood remained active. And I don't underestimate their depth.

So much of that is true about all of us, until we find some roots in a spiritual path, until we experience and know Spirit, active in our lives. With all that he had, how can this man never have found that kind of healing? How can he never have known who he truly was?

So can we look at him--as a mirror--and learn? Can we see how being outwardly fabulous, how being famous, how sculpting our faces, how having babies to love, how having the best house money can buy, how taking fabulous trips to exotic places, how spending loads and loads of money…will never fill us up?

I am noticing people talk about the untimely nature and tragedy of his death--and I am never happy when someone dies--but in his case, I am relieved. His death is sad, but his life was sad. A big exhale, albeit the final exhale, for Michael Jackson. Finally, Michael is united with the vastness and eternal nature of Spirit, All That Is, which is what I imagine he had been seeking all these years anyway, and which, I believe, is what most of us seek when we embark on a yogic path. Union with the Divine,that is, LOVE...is all we need.