Wednesday, 2 June 2010
Michael jackson human nature
As a person who has worked with a deep connection to Spirit, it has become clear to me that we process not only our individual psychological issues, but the emotional energy of the groups that we are embedded within as a collective. These include smaller groups such as family, school, and community, as well as larger collectives. These events and lives become a kind of living synchronicity.
A very poignant example involved the life of actor Christopher Reeve, who played Superman in the movie series. The idea of Superman is an archetypical projection of the human ego – the idea of immortality and invulnerability are delusions that the ego puts forward as it confronts the reality that it will inevitably pass. At the level of consciousness, Superman represents the denial of impermanence, embodiment and death. Thus when Christopher Reeve accepted the role of Superman, he literally embodied a collective spiritual issue of the human oversoul.
When Christopher Reeve was thrown from his horse and became a quadriplegic, he became the antithesis of Superman – all too vulnerable and very mortal. He became completely helpless and dependent on others for survival. He became powerless in almost every sense, except for the power to choose his thoughts and attitude.
Within his spirit, and at the deeper level of the human oversoul, Christopher Reeve accepted a role as an agent in human consciousness evolution. He soared as high as the ego can fly, and fell as far as it can fall. And it was all for the service of humanity. His life helped us process a little of a collective issue of human egos, the delusion that we have ultimate power and control.
Recently another individual human soul passed away, and his life also served the human collective. Michael Jackson’s life, his music and his individual soul issues resonated deeply with the oversoul of a large segment of humanity – the Generation Xers. What I am about to say is not meant to be disrespectful to Michael Jackson. I write this with no judgment of him as a soul. These perceptions emerge from my intuitive sense of his life and soul issues. We all have soul issues. Michael Jackson’s were probably a little deeper than most, and he just happened to live his in the spotlight.
Michael Jackson never integrated his childhood scars. He did not know how to deal with adult relationships, because his personal boundaries were so diffused as a child that he did not know where “he” ended and others started. became a parody of that child because he was not prepared to become the parent to it. He rejected responsibility for himself. An increasing acceptance of responsibility for self and one’s soul issues is a fundamental component of personal, psychological and spiritual development. This is a lifetime process for most of us. Inevitably, most of us never complete the processes.
Michael jackson dangerous
ABC's Robin Roberts, Janet Jackson reveals that she believes that Dr. Murray is, in fact, responsible for the death of her brother. Murray is currently charged with manslaughter as a result of Jackson's death, but it is unclear at what point any real legal proceedings will commence. Murray maintains that he never prescribed or administered any drugs that he believed would be life-threatening to Jackson.
Investigators have yet to reveal some of the information that they have gathered in the case, although they have made several high profile raids in an attempt to gather additional information and possibly build their case against .
Janet explained to Robin Roberts that she got a call from her assistant on June 25 saying that Michael had been taken to the hospital. She told her relatives to call her with updates as they got more information. She said she became very worried when she didn't receive any updates on his condition.
Investigators have yet to reveal some of the information that they have gathered in the case, although they have made several high profile raids in an attempt to gather additional information and possibly build their case against .
Janet explained to Robin Roberts that she got a call from her assistant on June 25 saying that Michael had been taken to the hospital. She told her relatives to call her with updates as they got more information. She said she became very worried when she didn't receive any updates on his condition.
Michael jackson invincible
You can say what you like about Jackson – and people often did – but it was rare that they said it while his music was playing because they were too busy singing along. And so it was yesterday that Brooklyn hummed into nightfall in a state of shock and nostalgia.
There are only three topics that middle-class black couples have when they go out to dinner, Chris Rock once joked: complaining about rap music, wondering why blacks cannot be as successful as Jews, and Michael Jackson.
"I admit it's weird, but it doesn't mean he's guilty," says one of the characters in Rock's film I Think I Love My Wife.
"I wouldn't let Michael Jackson watch my kids on TV," replies Rock.
"All comedians should send Michael Jackson a check," Rock once argued. "You know, if you give your agent $10, Michael should get $3."
Such has been the ambivalent relationship between Black America and Michael Jackson. A consistent heartfelt appreciation for his music that has long been tempered by a mixture of disdain and disbelief at the how his childhood facial features changed as he got older even as his childlike behavior did not.
"Many ridiculed him," said the New York-based activist, the Reverend Al Sharpton yesterday. "It's amazing to see how many people are now praising him that wouldn't go near him in the last several years, and condemned him. In our last conversation a couple of months ago, when I was teasing him I was coming to England to see him perform again, he talked about how many people had let him down. I told him it didn't matter, he had never let the fans down."
Jackson rose to prominence in the 1970s – the first black superstar of the post civil-rights era. Born just four years after segregation was outlawed, he signed for Motown in 1968 – the year Martin Luther King was assassinated and Detroit burned to the ground.
"That was a special time," Chaka Khan once told me, referring to the early 70s. "We were all hopeful and everybody seemed to be getting along in a way that they never did before. There was this wonderful feeling about being alive and there was hope that we could make a difference. Those kind of times will probably never happen again."
Jackson was never politically associated with these developments, but among many black people his cultural ascendancy was understood to be an integral product of them. A little black boy on American Bandstand and Soul Train with a voice that wouldn't break, dance moves that couldn't fail and an afro that wouldn't threaten. As the first breakthrough black performer to grace the screens of MTV in any regular fashion, he continued breaking barriers long after the official word was that there were no barriers left.
"Michael Jackson made culture accept a person of colour way before Tiger Woods, way before Oprah Winfrey, way before Barack Obama," said Sharpton.
This was the Jackson I was raised with. Not just an American pop star but a global icon; not just a individual but part of a family. A black family – the kind you never saw in Britain during the early 70s. A counterpoint to the Osmonds or the Partridge Family that made sense on its own cultural terms. In our living room, my brothers and I would spin and shuffle to dance like him. When we were going out our mother would comb our hair high – until our scalps were on fire – so we could look like them.
Given all of this, the degradation of his physiognomy was, to say the least, troubling. The sleeker nose, the thinner lips, the lighter skin, the higher cheek bones, the straight hair – the shift was so irreversible and emphatic that it was as though the teenager we had wanted to look like had turned into a man who did not want to look like us.
To some extent his transformation provided no great mystery within the black community. Skin-whitening creams and hair-straightening gels have been part of our cosmetic lives for almost as long as dark skin and curly hair have been denigrated. And so long as whiteness has carried a premium, the notion that some black people might actively seek it was no shock either.
"Every year, approximately 12,000 white-skinned Negroes disappear," wrote Walter White, the head of the country's oldest civil rights organization, the NAACP, back at the beginning of the last century. "People whose absence cannot be explained by death or emigration. Nearly every one of the 14 million discernible Negroes in the United States knows at least one member of his race who is 'passing'– the magic word which means that some Negroes can get by as whites. Often these emigrants achieve success in business, the professions, the arts and sciences."
But they are not supposed to disappear in full view. The point of passing was to leave your past behind, not bring it with you in the form of videographic evidence that blatantly reveals your transgression. The before and after shots of Jackson – the first as a black kid in with a microphone for hair and the second with chipped nose .
He was born black, but he didn't die white. Instead, he took on the characteristics of a transracial experiment, a combination of attributes that had never before been seen collected in one human being. If ever there was a candidate to tick the box "other" on the racial categories of forms, it was Jackson.
It was precisely this sense of "otherness" that blunted any feeling of full-on racial betrayal. Thanks to Bubbles the chimp and the pre-teen sleepovers at the Neverland ranch, Jackson's deviations were not purely racial. Sexually, socially and behaviorally he was outside the mainstream. He was not lost to black America, he was just plain lost.
So while his relationship with black America was often strained it was never broken. For reasons more to do with expediency, there were moments when he would hug them close.
In 2002, he rode through Harlem on an open-top bus with Sharpton, accusing record companies of racism. "The record companies really, really do conspire against the artists," Jackson told an audience of 350 at Sharpton's headquarters. "They steal, they cheat, they do whatever they can. Especially against the black artists." He then launched a scathing attack on his record label, saying of Sony's chairman, Tommy Mottola: "He's mean, he's a racist, and he's very, very, very devilish."
Given the centrality of both black people and racism in the history of the music industry, there will always be an audience for this kind of accusation in Harlem of all places. But somehow it seemed too fortuitous that he had made this discovery shortly after Sony had asked him to pay back tens of millions of dollars that had been spent promoting his new album, Invincible, after it had sold just a few million copies.
There are only three topics that middle-class black couples have when they go out to dinner, Chris Rock once joked: complaining about rap music, wondering why blacks cannot be as successful as Jews, and Michael Jackson.
"I admit it's weird, but it doesn't mean he's guilty," says one of the characters in Rock's film I Think I Love My Wife.
"I wouldn't let Michael Jackson watch my kids on TV," replies Rock.
"All comedians should send Michael Jackson a check," Rock once argued. "You know, if you give your agent $10, Michael should get $3."
Such has been the ambivalent relationship between Black America and Michael Jackson. A consistent heartfelt appreciation for his music that has long been tempered by a mixture of disdain and disbelief at the how his childhood facial features changed as he got older even as his childlike behavior did not.
"Many ridiculed him," said the New York-based activist, the Reverend Al Sharpton yesterday. "It's amazing to see how many people are now praising him that wouldn't go near him in the last several years, and condemned him. In our last conversation a couple of months ago, when I was teasing him I was coming to England to see him perform again, he talked about how many people had let him down. I told him it didn't matter, he had never let the fans down."
Jackson rose to prominence in the 1970s – the first black superstar of the post civil-rights era. Born just four years after segregation was outlawed, he signed for Motown in 1968 – the year Martin Luther King was assassinated and Detroit burned to the ground.
"That was a special time," Chaka Khan once told me, referring to the early 70s. "We were all hopeful and everybody seemed to be getting along in a way that they never did before. There was this wonderful feeling about being alive and there was hope that we could make a difference. Those kind of times will probably never happen again."
Jackson was never politically associated with these developments, but among many black people his cultural ascendancy was understood to be an integral product of them. A little black boy on American Bandstand and Soul Train with a voice that wouldn't break, dance moves that couldn't fail and an afro that wouldn't threaten. As the first breakthrough black performer to grace the screens of MTV in any regular fashion, he continued breaking barriers long after the official word was that there were no barriers left.
"Michael Jackson made culture accept a person of colour way before Tiger Woods, way before Oprah Winfrey, way before Barack Obama," said Sharpton.
This was the Jackson I was raised with. Not just an American pop star but a global icon; not just a individual but part of a family. A black family – the kind you never saw in Britain during the early 70s. A counterpoint to the Osmonds or the Partridge Family that made sense on its own cultural terms. In our living room, my brothers and I would spin and shuffle to dance like him. When we were going out our mother would comb our hair high – until our scalps were on fire – so we could look like them.
Given all of this, the degradation of his physiognomy was, to say the least, troubling. The sleeker nose, the thinner lips, the lighter skin, the higher cheek bones, the straight hair – the shift was so irreversible and emphatic that it was as though the teenager we had wanted to look like had turned into a man who did not want to look like us.
To some extent his transformation provided no great mystery within the black community. Skin-whitening creams and hair-straightening gels have been part of our cosmetic lives for almost as long as dark skin and curly hair have been denigrated. And so long as whiteness has carried a premium, the notion that some black people might actively seek it was no shock either.
"Every year, approximately 12,000 white-skinned Negroes disappear," wrote Walter White, the head of the country's oldest civil rights organization, the NAACP, back at the beginning of the last century. "People whose absence cannot be explained by death or emigration. Nearly every one of the 14 million discernible Negroes in the United States knows at least one member of his race who is 'passing'– the magic word which means that some Negroes can get by as whites. Often these emigrants achieve success in business, the professions, the arts and sciences."
But they are not supposed to disappear in full view. The point of passing was to leave your past behind, not bring it with you in the form of videographic evidence that blatantly reveals your transgression. The before and after shots of Jackson – the first as a black kid in with a microphone for hair and the second with chipped nose .
He was born black, but he didn't die white. Instead, he took on the characteristics of a transracial experiment, a combination of attributes that had never before been seen collected in one human being. If ever there was a candidate to tick the box "other" on the racial categories of forms, it was Jackson.
It was precisely this sense of "otherness" that blunted any feeling of full-on racial betrayal. Thanks to Bubbles the chimp and the pre-teen sleepovers at the Neverland ranch, Jackson's deviations were not purely racial. Sexually, socially and behaviorally he was outside the mainstream. He was not lost to black America, he was just plain lost.
So while his relationship with black America was often strained it was never broken. For reasons more to do with expediency, there were moments when he would hug them close.
In 2002, he rode through Harlem on an open-top bus with Sharpton, accusing record companies of racism. "The record companies really, really do conspire against the artists," Jackson told an audience of 350 at Sharpton's headquarters. "They steal, they cheat, they do whatever they can. Especially against the black artists." He then launched a scathing attack on his record label, saying of Sony's chairman, Tommy Mottola: "He's mean, he's a racist, and he's very, very, very devilish."
Given the centrality of both black people and racism in the history of the music industry, there will always be an audience for this kind of accusation in Harlem of all places. But somehow it seemed too fortuitous that he had made this discovery shortly after Sony had asked him to pay back tens of millions of dollars that had been spent promoting his new album, Invincible, after it had sold just a few million copies.
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