One in a Million
By Julia Hubbard
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Have you ever met someone who is without the capacity to think or act in a way that could injure or hurt anything or anyone ? Someone who has no comprehension of greed who appears, “not of this world” but would harm their self before harming another? They are few and far between yet, frequently misunderstood because their gentle and yielding, sensitive nature is beyond the scope of popular consensus. Sadly, it is rare to witness this species of individual living to old age here on planet earth.
This is the story of such a person, a very beautiful and caring person whose heart was overflowing with love and goodness to make the world a better place.
It is often overlooked in our current world, bombarded and dominated by advertising and suggestion, the unconditioned mind is the most impressionable, the child under five without the learned double speak of innuendo and illusion and their innocent perception of it. When my son ‘broke up’ after his first term of nursery school, he came and worriedly asked me how he could return if the school had been broken into bits. The first time he saw the sea he was about a year old just learning to speak. It came into view as we drove over a hill and he exclaimed, ‘big drink!’. A child can see a dolly in a faceless wooden spoon and a path in the pattern on fabric. This gift, children freely offer the busy, tarnished, frequently over burdened mind of ‘grown-up’s if they are willing and open to receive it and remind us of an often forgotten simplicity.
The youngest of a brood of siblings, the someone in this story was also the most gifted and talented and special. Forming a band, fortune was found from popular singing. The family prospered. It soon became clear the brand and selling point of this enterprise was the someone of this story.
The siblings wantonly pleasured their selves, feasting and indulging on the accessories and trophies that come with fame and wealth. Often, when on tour, the youngest would be sharing a room in an hotel with the siblings. Whilst they were busy servicing their fans, he was pretending to be asleep in an attempt to shut out the sounds of the grinding that could be heard. It didn’t sound beautiful. But neither did the disturbing comments spoken with concern of how his voice would sound after it had broken and once broken if it would still be a money earner or, whether puberty would be cruel to his appearance making him less cute and, ‘that nose!’.
Another person may have cared less but this person was acutely sensitive and finely tuned to harmony and beauty and, too young to perceive it other than literally, suffered quietly, silently wishing to hold back time to satisfy his beloved family remaining a child with a soprano voice, and closer to God.
It is only relatively recently, in the history of humankind, gifted and intelligent skin which isn’t white has been able to excel in fields which were not restricted to music, crime or sport. Ask Mohammed Ali or Malcolm X. Fortunately, the someone in this story lived breathed and drank music and was singularly focused to this endeavour. As the front man of the band and not required playing an instrument on stage, he developed a dedication to dance into an exceptional unrivalled and unique talent.
He immerged from adolescence, away from the public eye, a shy and conscientious teenager with strongly upheld Christian beliefs and a talent which had progressed into a shamanic level of mastery.
The more he tried the better he became. He had no use for drugs or alcohol. He was on a natural high, content, happy and aspirational. His siblings pursuit of fame and fortune and his professional approach to music, sculptured his solo career. He rocketed. He soared. It was unprecedented for a black recording artist to become a national hero and represent the face of America.
Untainted by the influence of drugs, his music was positive, uplifting and full of joy. He was a phenomenem. Destined to become a superstar but maybe not destined to cope with stardom. It had never occurred to him his brilliance and gladness of heart could incite suspicion. With the world at his fingertips and a salver of sex drugs and rock’n roll on offer, he preferred instead to drink orange juice, spend longer in the studio and remain devoted to his Christian faith. In fact, unknown girls throwing their selves at him puzzled and confused him for his spirit was pure and he was looking only for true love.
But the public and journalists rebelled. This young man was too good to be true and exposed mere mortals as salacious and tawdry. He withdrew, naively preferring the innocent company of children to the expectations and maligned and profane company of adults. He was a man who gave 140% of his self to all that he did. The greater the commitment to his music, the more deeply the journalists dug. He felt persecuted for doing his best and his loving heart could not fathom the hate.
A decade earlier, another recording artist met with similar objections. Clean living, pursuit of natural highs from hard work and endeavour along with a Christian faith earned him suspicion. Perhaps because he was the previous generation, perhaps because he had not been a child star, he was spared the same relentless status of social pariah. His name is Sir Cliff Richard.
Inexperienced in secular life he felt got on by all sides. His significant and vast homestead required employing a team of staff attracted by living amidst an environment that appeared to produce money faster than the federal bank. Eviction from this cushty place sprouted resentment. Out in the cold the cost of living was too rude an awakening.
Money is the root of all evil.
Our gentle troubadour was out of his ball park.
It is seldom a loving spirit performs at their best when unjustly accused. It is more likely to prompt anxiety and agitation. A liar is skilled in bluffing, a truth seeker may be too sincere to grasp why they are falsely accused.
Perhaps if this beautiful man had been less pure he would have pursued street drugs to numb the emotional pain which was roaring through him
So hurtful were the alleged accusations, being a man of extreme dimensions, during an assignment which resulted in an injury, pain relief was prescribed.
It was a complicated situation. He was a complicated man. In a cry for help he became a self harmer in the form of laser whitening taking prescribed pain relief to numb his hurt.
All though his complexion became whiter than white and his appearance more visibly distorted , the extent of his self harm went unnoticed but the allegations and suspicion of his personal integrity grew. He fell from grace.
Suffering chronic and unaddressed Post Traumatic Shock, his close friends began to disconnect from him and he withdrew further into isolation and abandonment.
In an attempt to set things straight he agreed to invite a journalist into his private life. But this journalist was no ally and only looking to expose and prove this pure and gentle heart a freak. Under these conditions in the company of an enemy within, ill willed of grace and favour to portray him at his best, he was acutely and understandable nervous.
Horrifyingly, as a result of the documentary, a court action was filed and he was persecuted for paedophilia. Our tragic and broken spirit found his life had become a living madness and this beautiful spirit broke under the strain.
As I stand before my creator, I admit, I never knew this man, but of his innocence I am completely certain. To every person who would disagree I would reply it is their own heart that is foul and dirty and their own perverse corruptness which seeks to judge.
Despite being declared innocent, the trauma was so great he could not and never returned to his home. It is not uncommon for a victim of trauma to harbour imaginary fears their life is under threat from an attacker. The truth is closer to home. It is the wakeup call of spirit to a gentle broken soul . It is difficult to imagine with any accuracy the extent of this dear mans suffering of his final years . God bless his children.
It seems mildly unfair Conrad Murray stands alone in being held accountable administering drugs to a man who was recalcitrant administering them his self. Will a verdict of guilty assuage the untried in this untidy end game?
Michael Jackson R.I.P.
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Hello Julia H. A thought
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