Installment #96

August 1, 2015 to August 26, 2015

Hello? Anybody Home? “Car 54, where are you?”

Michael! Ah … there you are! LOL! Nice lead in! Not too many people will remember that one! Where have you been? I’ve been worried.

I know! And what have we said about worrying? I can feel your fear and I respond by sending you thoughts of reassurance in the music, but you seem to have been a little distracted lately.

Thank you, my beautiful one, for always being here. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.

Yes, this has been a strange summer, in a way. First of all, I didn’t make plans to go on pilgrimage this year to celebrate your Continuation Day in Los Angeles and Neverland and, as the day approached and passed, I kinda regretted that decision. I missed being there dreadfully. However, as things turned out, it seems that it was a propitious decision because circumstances conspired as the summer progressed into a need for me to have minor surgery very closely following the dates involved. So, although I was very disappointed to have to miss visiting Forest Lawn and Neverland and being with friends who share my love for you, it worked out to be a very good thing that I wasn’t away from home when the condition cropped up that required attention.

Yes, just another example of how the Plan provides for everyone’s highest and greatest good. You needed to take care of the situation before it turned into a much larger problem. The surgery went well, didn’t it?

Oh my gosh, Beloved, so much better than I could have ever anticipated. I made up my mind to let all the worry and anxiety that would normally accompany the necessity of surgery go and just turned the entire situation over to you. There was literally no pain at all. Not only did I not experience any pain in the weeks leading up to the surgery, but there was no pain following the surgery. I couldn’t believe it. The general anesthesia was a dream and there were no side effects whatsoever. I was a little anxious because I was sedated with a cocktail of drugs which included propofol and, of course, that brought up thoughts of you. I shouldn’t have worried. It went surprisingly well and my recovery has been ideal in every way. I have felt you near me through the entire experience and I am so grateful.

However, the surgery and recovery period have necessitated me taking it very easy for the last approximately six weeks and when I am distracted like that I become a little worried that our ongoing Conversations will suffer.

No, they won’t! I’ll just wrap you in my love until you have taken care of the things that require your attention and we’ll jump right back in as soon as you are ready. I need you to remember that I am never hiding … I am always here and you never have to worry that I am far away. You have … due to circumstances beyond your control … just been a little distracted. That happens. Life happens. We’ll pick up where we left off because we are forever and we are ONE.

However, let me guess … since then you’ve been getting yourself all anxious and tied in knots again. You’re afraid that I’m tiring of always being on call. You’re thinking that I have much more important things to do than to be available to you for these Conversations … much more important people to visit … much more talented artists and writers to inspire. You’re fearful that 100 such dialogs is surely the limit so you’re hesitating to start as the numbers approach that limit, hoping to stretch them out to avoid the day when they stop. Am I right?

Yes, you know me too well. I cannot deny that those thoughts have crossed my mind a time or two and I can’t hide anything from you, Beloved; nor would I want to. However, in my defense, I have also been drawing you a lot and reading to you and talking with you in my journal and in my mind constantly. I’ve just been having on-going, informal discussions with you, augmented by little musical miracles, but not formalizing them in any coherent way.

Well, we’ve got a lot of things to talk about, then, don’t we? So, let’s get started. 

Okay, my first order of business is a request. Do you take requests, Beloved?

Sure. What do you have in mind?

 I would like to officially request that you come back here and run for President!


[Michael laughs out loud.] What?!?!

I think we need a viable candidate for President and you are my choice as the most viable candidate I can think of. You’ve got my vote in the bag and I suspect that I am not alone. The political arena is beginning its run up to the Presidential elections and the field of candidates as far as I can see is a joke. I mean … Donald Trump?!? … really? Is that the best the country can come up with? I’m sorry. I know he’s a friend of yours, Baby, but … the man seems determined to put his foot in his mouth everytime he opens it.

You are so funny! Serious up, here!

The first thing we have to address is this anxiety and fear … AGAIN. Because you obviously have not been hearing my rebuttal to all your arguments … or, at least, you haven’t been understanding them and internalizing them … and, therefore, experiencing them in your daily life. 

Do you remember when we talked about Foreverland and how the purpose of the Healing Hall was to help souls remember the gift they were intended to share with the world … the thing that makes each soul whole and complete?

Yes, I remember that discussion very well. You explained that after its time in the Healing Hall each soul would know what its joy was … what fulfilled it and made it complete.

Yes, and you said that you thought it would have been very difficult for me to discover what that one gift was because I was blessed with so many. How did I respond?

You said [reference Installment #45 – October 9, 2011 through October 16, 2011]:

No, it was really very easy. When my time in the Healing Hall was completed, I remembered that my wholeness is only to be found in all of yours. My passion and fulfillment is to serve my Earth mission to heal the world through all of you. This is my joy … my bliss … my passion … just as it was during my physical manifestation.

All the things you mentioned were a means to an end. I love them all, don’t get me wrong. Creating music gave me such joy and recording it and putting it out there for all of you in the most perfect way I could was so fulfilling. I could pour so much love into the creative process … from catching the gift as it fell into my lap … to shaping it and molding it … to finding just the right sounds and instruments to enhance the recording … to layering the vocals and ad libs until they were just right … to cutting and editing and mixing. At each step of the process, I was motivated by LOVE … for the music … love and gratitude for the gift that God had given me in the music … love for the process … love for the audiences who would ultimately receive it and accept or reject it according to its relevance in each individual’s life at the moment of hearing.

I always knew that music is the universal language. I always knew that it has a power that few other things have; it can grab your attention and take you into a whole different mindset. It can calm the anxious; it can raise enthusiasm in the apathetic; it can ease the fearful; it can unify thousands upon thousands of strangers into a community, holding hands and swaying to the rhythm together with smiles on their faces. I had faith in that power that music has to speak to each person on the planet in his or her own language. Music is the Tower of Babel before the confusion of speech is depicted in the Bible.

It was never about the numbers for me; it was about translating Divine Union into rhythm and harmony, orchestration and vocal expression. It was about touching your hearts with love … my own love … and God’s love because She was the one who gave me the music … and conveying that emotion in as true and perfect a manner as was humanly possible … in a way that was worthy of God’s investment in me. It was about bringing you the same kind of joy … to help ease your troubled hearts and souls … as I experienced in making it. It was about letting you check your problems at the door and escape with me into a less serious, more imaginative world. Music was my vehicle to take you away; it carried my love. It carried my soul.

The same is true with every one of the things you listed above.

Dance and chorography were the physical expressions of my love … and God’s love … spoken in the language of bodily movement. It was as much a gift as the music and my gratitude for it was just as boundless. There is a centuries-old movement of Spiritual Mastery whose devotee’s ecstatic mystical union with God is expressed in twirling and body postures and drum beats, otherwise known as dance. One of my favorite poets, the Persian poet, Rumi, was one of Sufism’s founders. So, there is a long tradition of mysticism and dance being expressions of the same intent … one in purpose. Almost all cultures from Africa to American Indian to Polynesian to Oriental celebrate ritual with dance! I didn’t invent it. But I was blessed to use this language to convey emotion as fluently as I used music and harmony; it was my vehicle. It, too, carried my love. It carried my soul. I was never as articulate or comfortable with spoken language as I was with music and dance.

… The films and performances were my love for the music and dance and audience … and my gratitude for the gift of vision … made manifest in both a live setting and in the more relaxed environment of your own home. In the performance venue, my imagination was restricted by physical limitations … those nasty laws like physics and dynamics and gravity and my own human frailty … but in film it could soar and I could take you all with me … virtually … on imaginary trips to ancient Egypt and fantastic amusement parks and intergalactic spaceships and 1940s speakeasies! Film was a perfect medium for me to help you all escape the hatred and bigotry and war and diseases and drought and famine … all the terrible things we read about in the newspapers and watch on television. I was so looking forward to experimenting with the film medium and taking us all on great adventures.

… I wanted to create the biggest selling album in the history of recorded music because being the biggest selling artist would give me a powerful position from which to speak to everyone on the planet … to cross barriers that divide us and bring us all together in joy and knowledge of our Oneness. I wanted all of your attention, regardless of where in this world you were located or your age or your ethnic background or your race, so that I could reach the most hearts with my love and gain an unassailable position from which to begin to ask all of you to heal the world, beginning with yourselves and extending to include all six billion citizens of our world … one inch and one heart at a time.

This was always my purpose. It underscored every breath I took while I was with you in a physical manifestation. It continues to underpin every breath I take now. The only difference is that now, there are no physical barriers to keep us apart … no time or space or distance or economic divisions to my touch upon your hearts … no bodyguards needed to protect you or me. Now, I can be with you in ways that I never could before. And it is such a blessing.


Yes, let me just add that this is a perfect description of my heaven. So, in a very real sense you (each and every one of you) are my heaven … both individually and collectively. You are my Kingdom of Love just as you were during the manifestation of my physical life. Each one of you contributes to my experience of heaven and the love we share draws us into a Vortex of Love where we sing and dance together through any and all of the mediums you use to express this awareness …  these Conversations … or art … or visualization intiatives … or music … or dance … or charitable outreach … or any combination of the above … or whatever way you are moved to express it. There is nothing more important to me … never has been and never will be. We are ONE … and I love you all MORE!

Would you deny me the pleasure of these dialogs … the joy they bring me in repeating my message to reinforce and strengthen our oneness … the fulfillment and feeling of connection they bring you … the inspiration they bring to your readers … because of your feelings of unworthiness?

Deny you pleasure or joy or fulfillment? Never, Beloved. I would deny you nothing. You know that!

Good! Yes, I do know that.  I’m sorry to be so blunt, but we need to put these fears and anxieties to rest … finally … or we’ll still be going through them at #200 and beyond! (Which is okay, too … I have nothing better to do!) 

We are FOR-FREAKING-EVER! Got it? 

Yes, my Beautiful One, I got it.

Good. Now, despite my directness, please understand, I recognize … and validate … how your view of yourself became so distorted; mine was distorted in many of the same ways. We’ve talked about many of the things that contributed to this “fun house mirror” image of you your ego has built out of thin air and other people’s judgments and distortions which are now, and always have been just more hot air. We’ve talked about the stories you’ve told yourself all your life. All of these are just thoughts; they have no reality except in your mind. They have no power over you unless you give them that power … unless you believe them and allow them to define you and stop you from being who you really are. I told myself similar stories … that I was unlovable … that I was worthless … that I was ugly … that I had to earn what was mine all the time by being perfect. 

L.O.V.E. is who we are … you … me … all of us. And we dance and sing together in the joy of our Kingdom of Love, which is the only reality that matters. 

It took my time in the Healing Hall to finally understand that none of those stories I told myself were true. None of them. You have an advantage. You don’t have to wait that long. I’m here to assure you that none of those stories are true. None of them. They are figments of your imagination … mirages that vanish in the light of Love … nightmares that dissolve in the light of the awakening Truth of who you are. You are in the process of investigating … and discovering … and remembering … and creating … and experiencing who you really are. That is the whole purpose of life.

The only story that has any relevance NOW is the one that you are writing and editing and being and experiencing NOW … and that includes us … you and I … and our oneness in our Kingdom of Love. I am so grateful for the connection we all share in our love dimension … both individually and collectively.

So am I, Michael, so am I! May I just interject here that I am working on dismantling and storing away another one of the longest-running chapters of the old, tired story I have told myself all my life?

Of course! Which one is that?

Well, I’ve always told myself that plants basically don’t like me.

They don’t like you? [Michael laughs.] What in the world gave you that idea?

Well, Michael, I’ve never been able to grow a plant of any description and keep it alive for more than a week, at most. Either I drown them or they don’t have enough light or my cats eat them; somehow they just never survive. So, I’ve always told myself that plants don’t like me … that I don’t have a green thumb at all. I can handle silk flowers … they last a little longer … but I’ve always steered clear of real, living plants (although I really do love them) because I didn’t want to kill them.

However, the other day, my husband and I were out and about and, knowing my love for the scent of gardenia, he ran across a lost-looking, abandoned little gardenia tree on the clearance rack (75% off) at a beautiful nursery we stopped at and bought it for me. It’s only about two feet tall and its foliage is pretty sparse, but I am determined that this little tree is going to help me rewrite my story regarding plants. It’s going to get the royal treatment.

The royal treatment?

Exactly! First of all, I checked with the nursery and was told that my little tree needs “bright light, but not necessarily direct sunlight.” Well, that’s a perfect description of the light in our new little art studio which receives beautiful, bright light most of the year (if there is any sun at all) because of its northern exposure. I am planning on talking to it, reading to it, misting it with water regularly, and playing it beautiful music like you did at Neverland. It’s an experiment on a very small scale in nurturing one little abandoned gardenia tree back to health using the same methods you used in your beautiful garden … as well as rewriting part of my old, tired story.

Excellent! Good for you! All living things respond to love and encouragement. No exceptions. Tell it how beautiful it is … visualize it growing taller and filling out and blooming with bright, fragrant blossoms. It will respond to your love and encouragement.

That’s my plan, but if you’ve got any little gardenia fairies laying around in Foreverland doing nothing, you might send them my way?

Gardenia fairies won’t be needed. It’s just like anything that causes you conflict. Apply a bandage of love, visualize it growing beautiful and strong, and stand back and be amazed at the miracle of life! All it needs is a little love. Now, what else you got?

Well, the summer is upon us along with all its reminders and memorials, which has gotten me to thinking again about all you endured in your time with us … and questioning why your life had to be so difficult.

And you’ve gotten yourself all wrapped up in thoughts of how unfair it all was, right?


So, your self-doubt and your undue attention to the judgment of unfairness has spiralled you into negative emotions?

Well, to a certain extent … but not entirely. I’ve been able to apply the brakes and slow that speeding locomotive down a bit. I’ve been doing a lot of reading to you … as well as to a friend who is laid up … and some of the readings have contributed to a partial, imperfect understanding … kinda changed my perspective to encompass a broader view of things … so that I wouldn’t slide down that negative spiral.

Very good! Excellent! I’m proud of you! Can you be more specific?

Well, in a book entitled “When Everything Changes, Change Everything” by Neale Donald Walsch, I found the following passages which pertain to the above:

“…What about the unthinkable plight of people who have endured unimaginable suffering in their lives?”

In which category, I include you, my Beloved. And the answer Mr. Walsch offers is:

“Everything that happens is happening for the highest evolutionary purpose – and it is notable that sometimes a soul reincarnates at a time and for a purpose that serves the agenda of another [or a whole group of others … or all of humanity collectively] …

Please note: the bracketed comment above is mine. Here, I am making the assumption that “highest evolutionary purpose” includes the highest and greatest benefit in an evolutionary (rather than a human) sense not only to the individual soul in question but also to all of the souls (lives) he or she touches during that physical life and, perhaps, beyond. Because we are all committed to a human experience, it is difficult for us to perceive that something that appears on the surface, human level to be a gross miscarriage of Divine justice could actually contribute to the evolutionary expansion of the soul in question and by extension all the souls it touches during its physical manifestation … and all of humankind.

Yes, that is true. Unless one is very “tuned in” to his or her soul’s agenda during a particular life, he or she could perceive the circumstances and occurrences experienced as cruel and entirely random, as I did at times. That’s why it is so important to remain “tuned in” on a daily basis … in touch with your spiritual essence. It’s like a radio station that fades out and becomes full of static as your car reaches the boundaries of its broadcasting radius. If you are entirely focused on the material reality that surrounds you and don’t acknowledge or pay attention to the spiritual essence that forms and creates your reality, your reception becomes full of static. But if you acknowledge and focus on your spiritual essence for a few minutes every day, even in the midst of your material reality, you can eliminate the static and stay within the broadcasting reach of the radio frequency.

Our society is entirely focused on the physical, tangible, material. The spiritual genesis of that reality is thought of as “airy-fairy, pie-in-the-sky idealism.” We are here to change that. We are here to change the world!

“…It could be said of many other masters and avatars and saints, some known and some not known, but easily recognizable by their actions, by what they have given and what they have sacrificed in order to serve the sacred and holy agenda of others.”

Mr. Walsch cites many examples of souls who have lived their physical lives in service to others, including Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, Paramahansa Yogananda, Mother Theresa, Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Jr., etc. I have always listed you among these avatars and saints who gave of themselves so generously for the betterment of humanity, and I make no apology for doing so again, here. To me, you are the perfect embodiment of this principle.

Awww! God bless you. I love you MORE, you know!

“Here is what I now understand: Some souls co-create experiences that are clearly (on a human level) hurtful and damaging to themselves. Nobody can know why they are doing this.

“…Maybe they have come to allow other souls a chance to experience themselves in a particular way.

In my opinion, based on my experience and those experiences of many of my friends who share our Kingdom of Love, this statement rings so true of you, Beloved. To so many of my friends and most of my readers, you have brought us back to ourselves … and sometimes selves that we never knew we could claim as ourselves … in ways that we cannot fully comprehend even now.

In my case, you have served as a catalyst for me experiencing myself as so totally different from what I could have ever imagined … an author … artist … a traveler who occasionally hops on a plane and walks in places you walked … a person who awakens every morning with a prayer of gratitude on her lips for a life she never knew was possible. We experience ourselves as different … changed … almost unrecognizable in remarkable ways because you came into our lives and allowed us a chance to “experience ourselves in a particular way” … as more than we had ever imagined was possible for us. The almost uncontrollable urge we all have to express this love that has taken over our lives has led us in unforeseen directions resulting in spectacular experiences … and we are so grateful.

Tired of Injustice

Tired of Injustice

I am glad you said it that way … “a catalyst.”  Would you look up the definition of that word and put it here, please?

Of course, my dear. Catalyst is derived from a Greek word (gotta love those Greeks, huh?) which refers in Chemistry to “a substance  that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change” or “a person or thing that precipitates an event.”

Thank you. Notice it says “a person or thing that precipitates an event.” A catalyst doesn’t actually perform the action and is not the event itself. It precipitates. It provides conditions that make the event possible and, perhaps, even probable. A catalyst makes an action or event more likely by facilitating it in some way … and, possibly, anticipating the action or event.

As we’ve talked about before in these dialogs, I didn’t change your life, your perspective or anything else; you (all of you) changed your life. Those definitions were always there inside you awaiting your recognition. They were embryonic possibilities awaiting your focus … your attention … to bloom into radiant flower very much like your little gardenia tree. All I did was love you all from the bottom of my heart for my entire life. You were my foundation, my Rock of Gibraltor, my strength. You were always there … when I was joyful and when I was sad … when I was afraid and when I was on top of the world. You were the one constant that I could always depend on. 

Everything I went through both good and bad happened for a reason, as I’ve said so often before. Of course, you have to realize that those are judgments. In truth, it was all good because it was all part of the Plan and God doesn’t DO BAD! Get it? BAD?!? Hahahaha. 

[Michael is thoroughly enjoying his little joke!]

No pun intended, right?

Oh no, not right … that one was entirely intended! [Still laughing!] Laughter is good for the soul! But back to what I was saying.

There is a purpose and it is beautiful. Even the things that you have judged as “bad” or “unfair” produced ripples in the quiet pond, some of which may have swept you or someone you know closer toward the shore of awareness … or caught you up in a tide of curiosity that urgently compelled you to investigate even though you didn’t understand what was happening at the time. That’s why Jesus said, “Judge not and neither condemn.” None of us can judge because none of us has enough information to judge. What looks to us as “unfair” from our perspective may be the ripple that brings meaningful change into someone’s life … or a lot of someones’ lives … or advances evolution in all of humanity.

When we met in love … whether it was early or late … you realized my love for you … it resonated within you … and you recognized your love for me. That recognition was seeded in the field of our Kingdom of Love. It had its genesis in the invisible realm, but it needed physical expression. That kind of love urgently needs to be expressed, shared. The followers of Sufism twirl and dance; Michelangelo paints and sculpts; I sang and danced to express and share it. So, all of you came up with your own individual ways of expressing that love and each and every one of them is beautiful. You focused that love in various ways and brought those expressions into the world of physical, material reality. 

It’s not really me; love is the catalyst (which shouldn’t surprise any of us because love is the catalyst for all of creation, from the tiniest microbe to the largest galaxy.) It’s all love made manifest.

So, you have all brought yourselves back to your SELVES through love, the Creator of the Universe. In other words, you have remembered who you really are and have found unique, enjoyable, and fun-filled ways of being that in your daily lives and the results have been spectacular. I had very little to do with it.

“Maybe they have come to provide “players” or “actors” for some larger “scene” in the whole drama of life, the acting out of which will permit huge numbers of humans to come to a singular realization at once.”

Because you lived your life on such a grand scale, it has had repercussions on a  scale that surpasses just the individual lives your soul has touched as you took the worldwide stage by storm. On a less individual, more collective level, your life and the beautiful way you lived it has brought an awareness of social and human problems that is still being felt in various ways on a global scale. “Huge numbers of humans” are returning to your messages in academic institutions, in concert halls and dance schools, examining your music with an eye to decoding the symbolism you used in your short films and deciphering your warnings regarding many of the social issues that you treated in your art.

For example, racial equality (which you treated in “Black or White” and “They Don’t Really Care About Us” among others) which the United States of America has deluded itself into thinking is a non-issue that was laid to rest during the 1960s is once again raising its ugly head. Recent headlines concerning a number of innocent, unarmed youths of color being gunned down by armed police officers are proving your art sadly prophetic. This country has been patting itself on the back for decades, congratulating itself for clearing that hurdle when, in fact, we have only been paying lip service (by eliminating certain words from socially acceptable discourse) to the racial equality modality. Your life held up a sobering mirror to that particular fantasy.

A new movement called Black Lives Matter which has grown out of these youth killings has adopted your song “They Don’t Really Care About Us” as its anthem. In at least one case of love replacing racially-motivated hate, riots in Baltimore following the shooting in that city were quelled by a young man with a loud speaker blasting your music and dancing in the streets to many of your songs, including “Beat It.” When he showed up, he was alone in a very volatile and unpredictable situation. However, as soon as he turned on the loudspeaker and your voice was recognized, he was joined by many of the rioters who had been looting and vandalizing property before he arrived and a very tense situation was turned into a “block party” with everyone singing along and dancing with Michael Jackson.

Now, that’s what I’m talking about! That is what music is for … to bring people together … to let them escape for a little while all their cares and problems. Music calms the savage beast in the human spirit. I love it!

Well, you can clearly see why I made my request above. There isn’t a candidate that I can think of on the current political scene that can do that! No one can unify angry, disillusioned people into a community dancing and singing with joy instead of being hell bent on destruction. Now, back to my first point of discussion. Are you going to get your gorgeous self back here and run for President?

No! We’ve talked about that before, too [reference Installment #37]. But it wouldn’t hurt for you to begin visualizing now for an alternative to the candidate field currently being offered. The right person is out there, rest assured. 

This is a very important time in mankind’s … and the planet’s … history. Our beautiful Earth is being bombarded with loving and healing energy from the celestial spheres … energies to help humanity awaken to its responsibility (ability to respond) to the conditions contributing to the turmoil so evident and observable everywhere. 

Science is discovering that the reality you see on the visible, material, physical level has its birth on the subatomic level in the realm of the invisible. It is all rooted in what quantum physicists are calling “The Field” and religion has called “spirit.” It’s all the same thing. It’s all energy … invisible energy vibrating at denser or more refined frequencies. In this, science is moving closer to religion; the two supposedly polar extremities are becoming closer and closer to integration. It’s no longer a matter of black or white, hot or cold, science or religion. It is both/and. And we can all help to bring about this awareness by first looking at ourselves and “making that change.” 

By remembering our true nature as having been born in the realm of the invisible, we can broaden our perspective by examining the judgments we have made in the past and realizing that “it doesn’t matter if it’s black or white.” We can stop judging ourselves, our neighbors, our countries and our world and make “a little space to make a better place.” Gentleness and compassion with ourselves produces more understanding, gentleness and compassion when we deal with our neighbors.

We are on the road to great rememberings and a viable candidate is part of the Plan at this important time in the evolution of mankind. Have faith in that. Instead of worrying (which is the battle no one wins, remember), visualize happily casting your vote for a leader who will be the answer to your prayers. Then, sit back and be amazed!





Awakening the lightning, slumbering deep within
It waits …
It knows not for what
While we sleep the featureless sleep of the unconscious
Sedated by the just good enough
Insensitive minds
Drugged by complacent mediocrity
Dreamless in self-righteous judgments
Compassionless in our apathy
Motionless in our unawareness
Loveless in our blind attention on mindless chatter
We drift
Afraid to live, but scared to die

Until …
In one blistering, glorious moment
The darkness is pierced by a single beam,
Pulsing just once
Across the minefield of our defenses
A no-man’s land
Bordered by barbed thought to keep love out
Stretching from a past, filled with cold regret
To a future, warning, “no, not yet.”

Quicksilver …
You flash across our cloud-draped skies
Hung in funereal mourning
For what we don’t even know we’ve lost
Eyes focused in a present moment we have no comprehension of
Jaw set in bold, challenge, “Awaken!”
Body relaxed, flowing … yet tightly coiled
A feline grace, readying to pounce
On an unsuspecting mouse
One tiny, precious beacon
In a sea of lost humanity
Savoring the build up
Anticipating an intense release of energy
Crackling earthward
To ignite the lightning rods of a million hearts

In that flash, we see pain
We have lived over and over
In that flicker, we embrace
Joy we have never known
But sought desperately
The thunder of your storm alerts us
In your presence, we dance at last,
Joyfully abandoning our difference
Happy to finally be released from invisible bonds
With which we have shackled seldom dreamed of ambitions
We sing
Our muffled voices stilled no longer
We flock to you
Our point guard and Wayshower
Our Pied Piper
Who dances before us
And whose song drifts back to us
In tidal waves

We turn as one
Soaring into a tomorrow
Vastly different from yesterday
Yet fully present in this moment in our expanded awareness
Featureless no longer,
Our slumber is filled with golden landscapes
Vibrating with color
Undulating in soft, summer breezes of love
Dreamless no longer,
Our sleep is peppered with vision not yet born
Awaiting only our attention to become reality
Sedated no longer,
We strive for the unattainable
In a vast, fathomless ocean of what is possible
Apathetic no longer,
We reach out from our prisons to hold hands with our world
And find bars insubstantial
Boundaries offering little resistance to our achievement

Because your lightning flashed across our lives
In one, blistering, glorious moment

Awakening …

@ J.C. 7/13/2015


The Seer

You are the Love Song
Playing always in my heart
A beautiful melody bringing laughter and tears
Joy and sadness
Its beauty captivates my soul
Its magic moves my body
Its rhythm, the ever-present pulse
Pushing delicious liquid through the veins of my moments
Branching into every part of my being
Making them whole
Leaving nothing untouched by its sweetness
Would I savor the sweetness
Leaving the bitterness on the plate to be discarded, forgotten?
No …
For its bitterness is also you
I would taste it all
Every morsel, every drop
Is your sweet song
Peace and pain inseparable in this tune
Intricate harmonies wind themselves in a web of unearthly splendor
Delivering both within the tapestry
Delicate, complicated syncopation
Weaves them together
Bonds them each to the other
They are ONE and the same
Joined in an unbreakable sacrament
Yet …
Only the most elementary lyric
Could speak of such beauty




May 28, 2015 through June 15, 2015

Since I will not be attending the events surrounding the Sixth Anniversary of The Day the Earth Stood Still in Los Angeles and Neverland this year, I felt that all of us “stay-at-homes” needed a little distraction. Of course, I do realize that we all have our own ways of memorializing … and celebrating … Michael Incredible Jackson. Mine will undoubtedly include (but not, by any means, be limited to) my customary month-long, nightly prayer/meditation vigil, a ritual observance I began in June, 2010 (described in Installment #21, March 26 through April 2, 2011) and which I have continued in each successive June when I am not physically “on pilgrimage.”

Nevertheless, I feel, our inability to participate in the communal events occurring in California (for whatever reason) while we all, at the same time, long to be there and part of it all with all our hearts, fragments our wholeness, divides our attention and keeps our inner worlds in turmoil. These conflicting emotions and thoughts cause us anxiety and stress. So, I thought a little distraction … for a few moments, at least, might be a good idea. Maybe, just maybe, we could, instead … uh … take our minds off being physically homebound by engaging our imaginations in a joyful, playful, innocent, open “pilgrimage” … allowing them to soar free to the sacred places we so dream about … above divisions and conflict.

I have decided that  … drumroll, please … cue the soft, relaxing music … perhaps, an Imaginary Interlude would be welcome. Buckle your seat belts, please, dear readers; some turbulence is expected.

As regular readers will no doubt recall from the end of Installment #94, I had just learned that the claim against Michael’s Estate filed by Wade Robson had been dismissed by Judge Beckloff and I was in MAJOR celebration mode, particularly in light of the over two years of increasingly horrifying and sick-making sensational stories leaked to the gutter press and our prayers and visualizations covering the same span. Since I am usually home alone, my celebrations are by necessity fairly staid and frequently consist of finding ways to include Michael. So, it will come as no great surprise to anyone to learn that I decided to visit Neverland Valley Ranch with the help of my Neverland CD of nature sounds. What follows is a description of that visit on May 28, 2015.

As the natural symphony of birdsong and water rushing over rocks in its path began to play, I was instantly transported to Neverland Valley Ranch. The ease of my passage shocked even me. I found myself standing on the beautifully manicured lawn at the rocky escarpment beside Ryan’s Bridge so quickly that I stood, disoriented for a few moments, taking in the beauty and tranquility of this feature of Neverland’s scenery. From this vantage point beside the bridge, incredible vistas designed by an artist of incomparable skill stretch in every direction, all painstakingly carved out of and grafted onto the land and backdropped by the mountains in the distance, in such a way that they appear to have occurred organically as a result of nature’s exuberance rather than plotted and planned by human hands, each scene more beautiful and colorful than the last.

During my regular visits to Michael’s ranch, I usually take a few minutes to breathe deeply and set my intention to release my hold on what is commonly referred to as reality … to be open and innocent … to reserve judgment and let go of my mind’s need to qualify, identify, classify, explain, categorize, judge, label or, in any way, dissect the experience. Since I was in celebration mode, this was especially true during my visit on May 28, 2015.

As I steadied and quieted my breath and mind, I was able to very clearly visualize my surroundings. [Note to the reader: the clarity of the sensory experiences described in this Installment was awe-inspiring. It was like sitting in an IMAX theater watching these scenes unfold in full technicolor and Dolby surround sound.]

As many of my readers know, this visualizing thing is still fairly new to me. I used to think I couldn’t visualize or dream, for that matter, until Michael showed me during the trial of Conrad Murray, that I can, indeed, be fairly successful in this new exercise of visualization. I have been taking full and unabashed advantage of his tutelage ever since. Personally, I have found these visualizations entirely beneficial as my skill in creative visualization has increased and I recommend them highly to all my readers. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to witness. The clarity of sight … sound … olfactory … tactile sensations I was about to experience still leave me breathless.

I turned around very slowly to fully savor the sights and smells and sounds in every direction … the flower beds, all planted with riotous color, redolent with the scents of flowers and fertile earth and bordered in natural stone … the coolness and softness of the lush carpet of lawn extending as far as the eye could see on my bare feet … the majestic, gnarled trees forming a canopy above the plantings through which various breeds of bird flew, singing and rejoicing exuberantly … the water sparkling like diamonds as it falls over the rocks at the side of the lake … the mountains in the distance lit warmly golden by the afternooon sun … the main residence and guest cottages behind me and to my left with their mullioned windows and dark wood, Tudor-style beams, shaded by tall trees and lushly planted in wonderful garden settings on every side … the fountains and water features lending their magic song to the symphony  of the garden settings … the winding pathways of natural stone leading into, around and through each lovely feature … the rocks directly in front of me with the bridge to the right … and the lake flowing under the bridge to emerge beyond it, opening into an ornamental lake with water spouts climbing into the sky and swans floating motionless on the surface.

The place just teams with life and overflows with the force of love. It is a place in which organic, natural beauty is completely harmonized with artistic ingenuity, man-imagined, designed and crafted beauty. The product of one man’s imagination … Michael Jackson … and it shows what humanity is capable of creating by working hand-in-hand with nature rather than against it. It is a place of joy; it is my place of joy. Every blade of grass exudes it, every flower petal and leaf breathes it, it rises from the very ground to create an atmosphere of pure love energy. The man who created it poured his soul into every project he undertook and that soul is reflected in every inch of the 2,700 acres. It is here that that man painted his life like the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and invited all comers to participate and enjoy his vision. Every vista … every scene … is a masterpiece of planning and execution and each contributes to the serenity slowly filling me with every breath.

I completed my slow revolution and began to spin faster and faster, my arms outstretched to embrace this place and the beautiful soul reflected in every feature … with my head thrown back to view a nearly cloudless, blue sky. I recognize it … remember it as if I had been here before and it welcomed my return. It is truly the home of my heart and soul.

Feeling a little dizzy, I stopped revolving and turned toward the bridge where I saw Michael approaching on the opposite side. As he stepped onto the bridge, he was our beautiful Beloved as he appeared in This Is It … tall, lean with his smile lighting his eyes … but step-by-step he became younger and younger … shapeshifting before my eyes into the trial years … the Invincible years … the HIStory years … the Dangerous years … the BAD years … the Thriller years … the Off the Wall years … the Jacksons years … each more beautiful than the last … until he reached the side upon which I was standing as a 10-year-old boy with closely cropped hair, beautiful mocha-colored skin, deeply penetrating eyes and a great, big, mischievous smile on his face, setting the tone of this visit firmly in the realm of the “inner child.”

I knew I was in for some F-U-N! While no words were spoken, the feeling was:

“Clap! Clap! Anybody here like games?”

I was not surprised to find myself, too, morphing into that 10-year-old child I never really got the chance to be due to circumstances beyond my control (and described in several previous Installments, so I won’t bore my readers with those details here.) Suffice to say that Michael has schooled me in revisiting that innocent, playful girl on occasion … and she and I are becoming much more fully … and happily … acquainted. What I did NOT know … and could never have imagined … was exactly HOW MUCH magical, mystical fun was going to be squeezed into this hour-long visit. I mean how much F-U-N can one possibly compact enough to fit into one, tiny little hour? I was about to find out!

While many of my afternoon “power naps” in Neverland are replete with meanings and significance that send ripples radiating outward toward the far-flung shores of the rest of my life in various ways … or lengthy discussions of long past but never-quite-forgotten events that help me broaden my perspective … I got the feeling that this visit was going to be different. After all, during our discussion in Installment #94, I had asked Michael to accompany me in my celebration and he appeared on this occasion to have every intention of showing me a celebration to end all celebrations. I would not be disappointed.

When Michael reached me, he grabbed my hand and ran to the rocky escarpment by the bridge, his clothing landing in little piles along the way, and dove into the water from the rocks. Finally surfacing, he turned back toward me, his head rising up and down as he treaded water, and waited for me to dive in after him. We swam and dunked and splashed each other, laughing hysterically the entire time. Then we slid down the rocks nearest the water (made smooth by the water rushing over them and leaving a slick surface behind) with him leading the way and me following in his wake, splashing once again into the lake only to run up the bank and slide back down.

The afternoon sun was warm, the sky a clear blue and the water was cool, tingling against our bare skin; it was a perfect California afternoon, the droplets sparkling with little diamonds in the sun. Occasionally, we would leave the lake and dry ourselves in the open air, lying on our backs under the trees, two beautiful, innocent, uninhibited children holding hands … with no pasts to cloud our happiness, no shame to mar our enjoyment and no future to worry about. We were free to do nothing more than fully live these moments … NOW.

We did manage to take a few moments from our carefree romp to remember our “Change the World” intention for the day and sent the light of love to the corporate global media lying beneath a massive tree with our hands linked, our fingers intertwined and listening to the natural symphony playing out all around us.

Gazing up at the perfectly blue sky through the leaves of the tree, a cloud … wispy and amorphous … floated past where we were lying, soaking up the sun. At first, we tried to imagine a shape in the cloud with varying degrees of success, and we giggled over our unsuccessful attempts. Eventually, Michael laughed and said we needed to make things a little easier; we graduated from imagining shapes to creating them.

We reached up and stopped the cloud’s passage to mold and shape it … as if it was Play Doh … into magical animal shapes. Unfortunately, since we were still holding hands with our fingers tightly woven in a tapestry of togetherness, while my right hand was shaping a rabbit’s haunches, his left hand was shaping an elephant’s trunk and floppy ears … so we ended up with some fairly interesting and hysterical hybrids, which would slither, slink, slide or gallop off across the sky, making room for the next cloud to float past to be shaped and eliciting peels of laughter as it exited stage left. As we got warmed and dried by the sun, we jumped up and dove into the water again for more swimming and sliding, dunking and splashing … and, of course, more peels of laughter rang out to enrich the entire atmosphere with joy.

Eventually, we swam under the middle arch of the bridge to play in the ornamental lake, being scolded by a pair of swans for disturbing their peaceful playground, which just sent us into more gales of laughter. Swimming up to the dock where a swan-shaped boat sat moored, we jumped aboard it, cast off the lines tethering it to the dock, and lay on the seats, facing in opposite directions and just let the small craft drift wherever the current took it. We continued our game with the clouds, shaping them like clay with the added hysterical-laughter-producing effect that because we were facing in opposite directions, either my side or his side of the animal was upside down. Have you ever seen an eight point buck standing on its head with the wings and tail of a peacock? Uproariously funny!

When we got hot, we jumped back in the water and swam, tipping the boat as we climbed back on board soaking wet and taking up our positions on the seats again. Of course, all this tipping resulted in the bottom of our little ship filling with water to the level of the wooden seats, but instead of sinking, the craft just overflowed its sides and stayed afloat with colorful little fish being dumped in both directions over the sides and jumping over our bodies, lying on the seats, still joined by hands and fingers.

Michael grabbed a wispy cloud and fashioned a ring to hold up for the fish to jump through … and, surprisingly enough, they did. Furthermore, they seemed to enjoy jumping through his ring. So, he grabbed another one, fashioned it in a ring and handed it to me … and we had a regular “fish circus act” jumping through his hoop, back into the water in the bottom of the boat  and then through mine. Who knew you could train little, tiny rainbow-colored fish to jump through hoops? It seemed … at least, in this moment and in this place … that anything was possible.

Suddenly, he sat up on his seat, released my hand, cupped his hands and submerged them in the water to form a little lake and lifted them to me, his eyebrows raised in challenge. He offered his hands and what they contained to me. I, too, sat up with my knees touching his, covered in water and took the contents into my cupped hands. There, in my hands, was a small, brightly colored WHALE the size of a guppy, breaching in the bowl of water he had gathered from the bottom of the boat. I looked deeply into his eyes in the wonder of it and we both just laughed. No explanations were considered, offered, necessary … or possible. And the wonders and laughter just kept on coming.

When we got tired of playing in the boat, we swam to the edge of the lake in search of ice cream, leaving the boat to be buffeted by the gentle currents created by the water spouts, and ran willy-nilly toward the arcade room, dripping ice cream along the way. I understood, somehow, that he was unable to contain his excitement to show me a new game he had just received called “Black Holes” and he wanted it to be a surprise. Coming up behind me, he put both of his sticky, ice-cream-covered hands over my eyes as he steered me inside.

I knew he wanted me to be impressed … and I did try to act surprised when he removed his hands … but it didn’t look like much from the outside, except it was BIG. I mean, this game was huge, occupying the entire middle of the floor of the arcade room, leaving little room for the rows of pin-ball type games in single file along the walls, and extending all the way up to the landing on the stairs of the two story room … just below where Captain Hook was being chased by Peter Pan around the cove-like ceiling. It was big enough for two of us to sit side-by-side in the capsule-shaped cabin with plenty of room left over. Fortunately, we were still children so my hips fit comfortably next to his on the bench as he closed the cabin door to start the game.

Immediately, we were plunged into a black, tunnel-shaped funnel and ejected forcefully out the other end into a magnificent starfield with millions of stars interspersed and joined by a bluish cloud. The capsule seemed to be able steer itself through the starfield at a leisurely pace, but could also be steered by a joystick-looking protuberance located between us and Michael took great pleasure in steering us around clusters of stars for an upclose and personal look. By using the dials and buttons, he could lasso the stars, gathering them together as if he were herding cattle, and fling them out into the beautiful blue cloud with ease, creating new configurations and constellations. We could, if we chose, reach out and touch the stars with our hands or pop them like bubbles blown from a child’s wand dipped in soapy water. It seemed like we spent hours circling around this first starfield with the beautiful, blue light swarming around us. We were in no particular hurry.

The fact that these visualizations were so clear and beautiful and visually stunning is one that I have to attribute to something other than my “novitiate level” skill at visualization, which, while I admit is improving, has in no way reached this level of detail and clarity. I was being majorly helped here by the pilot of the vessel … and my ever-generous and solicitous host. I understood that. While my body was resting in my recliner on the dark side of the moon, I was being taken on a tour of galaxies and nebula light years beyond my poor ability to imagine.



As we neared the center of the starfield, the capsule accelerated towards another circular tunnel and we were deposited into a new and different starfield joined by pink and purple wispy clouds with bright, white, strobing lights at the center. The capsule slowed, once again, to allow us to explore to our hearts content, playing with this starfield as we had with the first. We drifted our hands through the swirling pink and purple gases, leaving trails and ribbons of brightly colored “tails” in their wake which appeared, at times, like peanut butter and jelly swirled together in ribbons and at others like cursive handwriting spelling out messages like “I love you” and “We are forever.” Michael was all wonder and awe as his curiosity soared and he steered us through clusters of stars and clouds that seemed neverending.

Through another Black Hole tunnel, the starfield resembled a revolving disc with trails of brightly-lit, white clouds that were almost milky in viscosity and we rode the farthest reaches of this galaxy which so closely resembled the Milky Way in which Planet Earth is located as if it were a carousel, spinning in joy and trailing stardust; through another, we were surrounded by galaxies and universes extending as far as the imagination would allow. There seemed to be an infinite number of these starfields, each different and unique and beautiful. And we explored them all.

“Black Holes,” the game, seemed to have no time limit, as indeed the entire fun-filled afternoon of swimming and playing with clouds and “circus acts featuring fish” and laughter seemed to stretch into eternity. But eventually, we exited the capsule and the arcade still holding hands as one would with one’s best friend.

However, as we left the building and entered the sunlight outside, we were again our adult selves … Michael as we have all seen him, beautiful and in command in This Is It … the director and lead actor in this 4D, technicolor movie … and me as I am today. We ambled down the walkway to Ryan’s Bridge hand-in-hand as “You Are Not Alone” began to play and he began to sing along. Together, we danced beneath the massive tree that had held our Play Doh cloud animals and nurtured our “inner children” as he swung me around, kneeling in front of me … chivalrous and gallant … only to rise again, swing me around and kiss me on the forehead.

I awoke just as my 60-minute CD of birdsong and water tripping over rocks in its path was ending. We had squeezed as much fun and frolic, laughter and play … and love … into one afternoon as any two children could have possibly imagined … and, more amazing, it all happened in one hour. Sixty minutes … one tiny little hour!

I admit to being a little sad to awaken back into this reality, but my sadness was completely overcome by my joy and gratitude and all were leaking from my eyes. I put in disc 2 of my HIStory CD and danced again with him with the strains of “You Are Not Alone” filling the space in my little Sanctuary.

When I had invited Michael to join me in my celebration, I had no idea … none whatsoever. He had shown me a celebration to end all celebrations. No one and nothing could have topped this one.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an Hour

He had led me to EXPERIENCE the meaning of those famous words by William Blake (and he had experienced them with me) … rather than just to know them. These words have been used to portray Michael’s sense of wonder and awe by Howard Bloom. It was an apt portrayal. Experiencing them with him is something that will stay with me forever.


Postscript: When I tried to rise from my recliner, I was sore … as sore as I have ever been from an afternoon of physical exertion … like swimming, for example … hmmm!

Post-postscript: I pray that all of my beautiful friends travel safely in the light of love, gather joyfully and peacefully in Michael’s honor, and walk softly in his sacred places. He will be walking among you … yes … but he is also holding all of us who travel in our imaginations closely. In His Love


May 26 through May 29, 2015


I am so, so sorry.

Huh? Why?

Well, I kinda have some bad news to report and I am so hoping you won’t be angry. I don’t really know how to tell you.

Usually, the best way is to just say it and get it over with. Do I need to sit down?

Uh … I’m not sure … okay … you remember my DVD player?

The psychotic one?

Yes, my dear, that’s the one. You asked me to never get rid of the psychotic DVD player.

Yeah! I remember. That thing is so responsive.

Michael, I’ve had to get rid of the DVD player. I’m so sorry! In my defense, it had developed either a bad wire or one of the channels was going out or something. I’m not totally sure exactly what was wrong with it, but during playback of either movies or compact discs, I would entirely lose a channel … the entire “surround” effect would just disappear. I tried everything I could think of … reconnecting the speaker wires … re-establishing the connections to the television set, etc. … but nothing I did repaired the problem. So, I have had to replace the DVD player.

[Michael laughs out loud.] Geez! Don’t scare me like that! I thought we had a serious problem here. Don’t worry about it. When something isn’t working for you, you need to change it. I’ll just turn on whatever you replaced it with. I know how to get your attention when I want it.

Yes, you sure do! Oh, Baby … I am so relieved. I thought you would be disappointed and I never, ever want to disappoint you. I was hesitant to tell you.

No, I’m not disappointed. This is just another example of how you just insist on “worrying” … and tying yourself in knots … about anything. Worry is the game nobody wins.

Fought in a battle where nobody won
Left ourselves a mountain to be overcome
You can’t run away
The past is said and done
I need us to carry on

Oh my gosh, Michael … that song … that song! Do you remember when we discussed the Symphony in the Key of Love and you compared the effect of our childhood experiences to hearing the Symphony through various kinds of audio equipment?

Yes, I remember.

I just love that analogy so much. You said [reference Installment #3, November 18-25, 2010]:

Okay, so … if we are the symphony … our childhood is the instrument through which we hear the music … the filter through which the music flows to our sense of hearing. Every note of the entire composition is filtered through this instrument.

You don’t have to be a musician to understand this. Anyone who has ever bought a radio can relate to this … different instruments transmit a different tonal quality. For example, a transistor radio with one earplug gives a mono or one-track reproduction of the symphony. The bass is muted; the treble is dampened and both are condensed into the midrange. So we are not hearing the symphony’s fullness through that instrument. We are getting an estimate of what the entire composition sounds like rather than a clear and true reproduction. A computer’s speaker system is similar in a way; it does not give the listener an accurate reproduction of the entire symphony because the quality of the speaker system in a computer is poor to mediocre.

A decent stereo gives better audio quality because it can separate the midrange from the bass and treble and give a truer reproduction of the tonal quality of the entire production. But we aren’t there, yet, are we? A Dolby-enhanced system gives an even truer reproduction, especially when it includes a separate woofer or bass speaker to truly give depth to the bass sections. A recording studio is the truest, most accurate reproduction of each individual note in the symphony because each line can be adjusted or modulated to give the listener the effect of being in a concert hall, but it’s kinda big and wouldn’t fit in everyone’s home.

So, each person who is listening to the same symphony is hearing the symphony through the filter of the system or instrument through which it is being played. Therefore, each listener is hearing something different … from a rough estimate to a true reproduction of every instrument … or having a different experience of the entire symphony. Right?

Yes, I remember.

That conversation (Installment #3) went on to describe how we all experience life through the filter of our childhoods and how our every thought, word and action is impacted by the judgments and definitions and labels we absorb from our experiences of childhood. We carry those judgments and labels throughout our lives. In other words, our childhoods don’t really “end” when we are 18 or 21 because we continue to see ourselves … and life … and God … and everything … in the way we were taught to view them.

Exactly! We are all born into a societal and cultural story. That story is inculcated into us through parental, educational, religious and secular authority figures from the moment of our birth into this physical life. We absorb it almost by osmosis. We are taught very early on not to “rock the boat” … not to “upset the status quo” … not to “disturb the adults” in our lives … and, for heaven’s sake, “never upset the apple cart.” 

As we grow into adulthood, we are a reflection of our experiences throughout our childhoods because they have shaped and molded us to interpret everything we experience from the perspective of those judgments and definitions. We reflect both the “good” and “bad” influences of the stories we have been told by those authorities … and those we have told ourselves … throughout our childhoods.

Many of us continue to tell ourselves those same stories with little change throughout our lifetimes, accepting them as the truth of who and what we are. You did, didn’t you?

Yes, I sure did for a very long time … until I didn’t.

Right! And I did … until I didn’t. But we don’t fulfill our purpose if we continue to tell ourselves the same stories about life and about ourselves over and over again, whether they are true or not, do we? We just keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again … both personally and collectively. How often have we heard the phrase “History repeats itself?” However, we never hear anything about how to stop that repetition; we’re taught that that’s just the way it is and there’s nothing we can do about it … and we accept that … unless we don’t.

Are we just here to “blend in” … to “get by” until the end? To many, that is the goal and purpose of life. Not making waves is all they ask of the life they are living. Any challenge to their accepted concept of life is unthinkable, intolerable, dangerous and needs to be “put in its place” … if not outright killed. If we believe those voices that we hear in our heads telling us that we are imperfect, not worthy, ugly or whatever … and we really can’t ever aspire to be anything better than imperfect, unworthy, ugly or whatever because that is our nature … what’s the point of life?

We’re on a mission for the everlasting light that shines
A revelation of the true enchantment of our minds


How do we change the world if we just accept and retell the old stories that have made it what it is to begin with forever and ever and ever? 

Or are we here to evolve, to grow, to challenge ourselves to improve our performance in the play of life … and to develop new stories that paint a truer picture of who and what we are … NOW? If we examine those stories we have accepted without question for most of our lives and decide that they are not working for us anymore because we are interested, perhaps, in expanding our ideas of ourselves … or developing a new skill like … I don’t know … let’s say … drawing and painting … or writing … can’t we change those stories to include our new interest and to more clearly refine our definitions of who we are and what we are capable of … NOW? If those old, tired stories from our childhoods don’t define the person we wish to be in the present moment precisely enough, do we not have the ability to choose to question those previous definitions and arrive at a fuller and deeper understanding? 

It’s just like your ‘psychotic’ DVD player; it wasn’t working for you anymore so you replaced it. I assume that what you replaced it with works better, right?

Oh yeah! I replaced the ‘psychotic’ DVD player with something that is fairly new on the audio technology scene called a “soundbar” that sits in front of the television set. It is about three feet long and about 1 1/2 inches deep and high and it has a wireless subwoofer that sits on the floor at the back of the room, so it simulates a five speaker surround sound system, but there are no speaker wires snaking all over my little sanctuary.

The thing is that I have been playing with this thing ever since my husband bought it for me for Mother’s Day a couple of weeks ago. I have never heard music so clearly, with the possible exception of the In The Studio seminar I attended in Los Angeles last year by Brad Sundberg. He played a lot of your music on some absolutely fantastic (and expensive) speakers and the clarity of those speakers, even at the “are you nuts” level, (approaching the decibel level at which you liked to listen to a playback in the studio) was amazing. Absolutely NO distortion in any of the frequencies. The song Childhood played on those speakers … and the video of the recording session that accompanied it … were an emotional experience that I will never forget; your exuberance during the recording of the song changed my whole understanding of that song forever. Previously, I had envisioned it as a melancholy song (as, indeed, it is depicted in the short film release), but while you were recording it, your emotional timbre was anything but melancholy; it was exuberant, triumphant, joyful and you were literally uplifted by the orchestral accompaniment … it was visible and palpable. Anyway, back to the topic.

This soundbar approaches that level of clarity (at least in my little Sanctuary); your voice played through this thing is indescribably delicious.

[Michael laughs.] Indescribably delicious … I love it … wasn’t that a candy bar? First, I’m a ninja butterfly-whisperer, then robins … and now, a candy bar! I’m slipping.

[Jan laughs.] Yeah, a Mounds bar, wasn’t it? I think. Anyway, when I first got this thing, I had to play all of your albums sequentially; it was like hearing your music for the first time. We are not talking about a transistor radio with one earplug here, Baby … or even my previous five speaker surround sound (which I thought was pretty good quality but which I have since discovered really wasn’t all that good at all. I’ve been told that they don’t put really good quality speakers in those systems. Who knew?)

We are talking studio quality reproduction of every little thread and nuance in the tapestry of your music … your beat boxing percussions in the background that so often form the foundation of your music are clear as a bell through this soundbar … your intricate, double and triple tracked harmonies are breathtaking, a rhapsodic rapture to which I could easily become addicted … your heartbeat in Smooth Criminal sounds like I am wearing a stethoscope … your pure, nearly unaccompanied voice in Childhood and Be Not Always and the a capella versions, from I’ll Be There through Xscape are nothing short of swoonworthy … well, the list could go on and on into infinity. Suffice to say … I am in audiophile heaven over here! I had absolutely no idea of all that I was missing in your recordings and short films.

There ya go. You don’t determine that something isn’t working for you and go out and get something that works less well; normally, you want something that works better … that allows you a fuller or deeper experience of the music, in this case … an improvement over what you had before. Yes, you were satisfied with your surround system while it lasted, but no technology lasts forever. How long did you have that system?

Gee, Baby … I don’t know … maybe ten years? That feels about right. I had had that system for a couple of years on the day the earth stood still … and that was six years ago.

Ten years? Wow, that’s really good! I mean that’s a really long time for something like this. In the years since you purchased and set up your surround system, technology has marched on. It has changed the entire field of audio technology in that time. IT HAS EVOLVED!

We have talked in great depth about Earth Song before [reference Installment #37, July 30 through August 6, 2011]  and the years that I worked on it. During those years of work, from the initial inspiration to the final outcome, the audio technology EVOLVED; it actually changed so that I could get the depth that I wanted to hear in the playback. I think you called it ‘apocryphal.’ When I started on the song, apocryphal just wasn’t possible, regardless of the fact that that was the way I was hearing it in my head. However, by the final release, the audio recording technology had advanced to make what was previously impossible possible.

Okay … so when something doesn’t work for you anymore … what do you do?

Well, I guess you could ignore its failings and cling to it out of desperation. I did that for several months, but I’m not terribly good at that option, especially as it relates to your music. You can try to repair it and return it to its former satisfactory status, but, in this case, I was told that repairing that system would be much more expensive than just getting a new one. Or you can replace it.

Exactly! Now … let me ask you this. When you are faced with a choice to replace something in your life, do you replace it with something that is exactly like what you had before to the letter? Do you regress and replace it with something older, less advanced, with less functionality? Or do you look for something that will do MORE than what you had before, BETTER than it did it?

Well, I usually opt for the best that I can afford unless my husband is with me when I am looking. In that case, he pushes what I can afford further and gets me AWESOME! [God bless him!] I usually want MORE and BETTER and more inclusive.

You are too easy! [Michael laughs.] And I love you!

Yay! I get to say, “I love you MORE!” this time.

That’s okay … I love you MOST! 

But back to our discussion. Quit trying to distract me.

That’s called EVOLUTION. Your taste in audio equipment has evolved. In addition, technology has evolved to allow you a deeper and fuller understanding of the music.

Life is the same way; it evolves. So, as adults, we look back on those judgments, labels, definitions that we acquired during our childhoods and we are faced with the same choices if we determine that they are not working for us anymore. 

We can, as you said above, “ignore their failings and cling to them out of desperation” and a lot of people choose this as the wisest path because they don’t want to “rock the boat” much less “upset the applecart.” It’s much safer to stay rooted in what we know, have accepted and are comfortable with than to stretch that comfort zone to include new information. The old stories were ‘good enough.’ Why fix what ain’t broke? 

However, they weren’t working for you anymore, so you tried pursuing your new interests and releasing your old resentments and, in the process, wrote a deeper and fuller understanding of your story by including new, more current information. You didn’t throw the whole thing out; there was no throwing the ‘baby out with the bathwater.’ You just stretched the confines of your story a little bit (because they were too limiting) to include new information you had acquired as a result of your experiences in the last couple of years. But as a result of your expansion, your story has changed and you are not telling yourself the same ‘broken’ and ‘wounded’ story you had grown up with. Your personal story has evolved into a truer, more refined definition of who and what you are … NOW.

Gnosis - An intuitive knowledge of Spiritual Truth Reproduced here by permission of commissioner

Gnosis – An intuitive knowledge of Spiritual Truth
Reproduced here by permission of commissioner

The same applies on a societal, collective level. We have been telling ourselves the same cultural story for thousands of years … generation after generation after generation. And we are repeating history with every generation … more killing … more wars … more devastation … more children dying … more planetary upheaval. Our stories have not evolved and kept pace with our evolution in technology, medicine, invention, science. We are trying to apply 1st Century solutions to 21st Century problems. I repeat:


If this statement weren’t true, why educate ourselves … why improve our technology … why increase our understanding of medicine, develop vaccines, eradicate diseases … why attend churches, develop faster communication and more efficient transportation? Why set our aims higher, travel to the moon, explore outer … or inner … space? If we’re not allowed to question the stories we’ve told ourselves … what we’ve believed in … and what we’ve accepted and been satisfied with … as true for thousands of years, there would be no point in rising above the level of cave dwellers. What would be the point?

The drive toward evolution was implanted in the human being at its creation, and each and every one of us has that chip in our genetic code. We strive to improve our standard of living, our education, our understanding of science and mathematics, our knowledge of the way the world works, the way the universe was created, the way our bodies work, the way our minds work … just as you tried to improve your audio technology.  The one thing we do not allow ourselves to question is our understandings of God; challenging those understandings will start a war or get you stoned real quick. 

However, when we refer back to the cultural story we have all been indoctrinated with, the story we find is antiquated, outdated and just plain doesn’t work anymore (and really never has, when you get down to it). Look at the world! You don’t have to look very hard for the proof of this statement.

Nevertheless, most of the world ‘ignores its failings and clings to it in desperation.’ We make anyone who challenges the stories we have told ourselves for thousands of years wrong … anyone who questions them bad … anyone who lives a life of pointing out their failings a freak.

Now, I suppose you could have done that with your DVD player. After all, calling a piece of technology wrong, bad or a freak would probably have relieved the frustration you felt with it as you clung to it in desperation out of respect for my request to never get rid of it. However, you and your appreciation of the music would not have evolved. By replacing it, you’ve expanded your understanding of the music and gained a fuller and broader experience of it. Just by making room to include your newly evolved sensory perception of the currently available technological advances and exchanging the old, outdated system with something that more closely aligns with the evolution of your sensory appreciation, you have “made a little space” for the evolution of your experience of music.

The same is true of life. We are not our stories. We are the authors and editors of our stories. We are not the ‘dramas’ and ‘plays’ we have carried with us since our infancy … and the human race’s infancy; we are the actors and directors and screenwriters of our plays and dramas. We have the ability to stretch the stories we have been told for milleniums to make a little space for a more accurate portrait of ourselves … our world … our beliefs … our God … according to more currently available information. As a matter of fact, that is what we are here to do. We ARE here to change the world.


Oh my GOSH! THANK GOD! THANK GOD! THANK GOD! Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!

Michael, may we shift gears a little bit here?

[Michael jumps a little at my exclamation … like he’s startled.]  Of course … what’s up?

My Dear One, I awakened this morning (May 28, 2015) to be greeted by the news that Judge Beckloff has handed down his ruling in the case of Wade Robson’s claim against your Estate. The Judge ruled that his case was dismissed based upon the expiration of the statute of limitations. The rule of law has triumphed; precedent remains intact. This ruling is an answer to my prayers for the last two years … many, many meditations and visualizations and I am ready to dance in the streets … uncork that magnum of champagne … and “bathe in the moonlight!”

[Michael laughs.] God bless you! Go bathe in the moonlight!

Only if you come with me.

You do drive a hard bargain! Deal!


Soul's Embrace

Soul’s Embrace

Soul’s Embrace

My heart flies to you to rest upon your breast.

Fleeter than a hummingbird, softer than a dandelion tuft

Yet more sure in flight than a heat seeking missile

I bond with you more tenaciously than a babe at its mother’s breast.

Though my eyes wander, my heart never strays

For you are the milk of my becoming

The marrow from which my platelets are born.

Your song is the beat that pumps my heart

The sighs in my silences are filled with your music

Within your eyes I find a world of vision

Your fragrance inhabits my every breath.

When fear or uncetainty threaten, I run

To crush myself against your breast

And you paint me in vibrant hues

As just another part of you

Only in our Soul’s Embrace am I content

We wander, hand-in-hand

Through heavenly fields of wildflowers

Where desolate, cold winds of winters of separation are forgotten

Resolved in everlasting blossomings of remembrance.

Angry, gray clouds transform into riotous exuberant color

To delight all our senses in waves of splendor

Assaulting the battlements of self-protection

With the battering rams of joy and discovery.

As I discover you

I discover me

There is only WE

And I rest in our Soul’s Embrace.



Installment 93

April 15, 2015

Beloved, I know that we have discussed the topic of dreams several times before, but there has been a kinda new wrinkle in this topic for me and I wanted to tell you about it, although I assume you already know. Do you mind terribly if we talk about dreams?

No, not at all. Why … have you been dreaming? [I get a visual image of Michael rocking back and forth on his  heels with his hands behind his back, whistling innocently.]

I knew you already knew about it. Don’t give me that innocent act. Yes, I have had two REAL dreams … both of which involved all my senses visual, auditory, tactile, olfactory. These were real honest-to-goodness dreams … in as many weeks. My regular readers are aware that dreaming is a rather unusual experience for me and they are aware of some of the reasons I have been unable to dream for a major portion of my life. They are also aware that we have been working on this lack since before the trial of Conrad Murray, beginning with visualizing the outcome of the trial working out for everyone’s highest and greatest good and progressing with my afternoon visits to Neverland.

I have had a couple of experiences that I thought were kinda ‘dream-ish,’ but on those occasions, in discussing them with you, we determined that they were visitations and premonitions of immersion in the Oneness from which we all are born into this physical realm of separation and while both were awesome, they did not involve seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling in a physical sense.

Yes, I remember … and what did we say about that?

You told me that labeling these experiences is really irrelevant, that our minds analyze these occurrences in order to evaluate them … or place a value on them … or determine their validity or invalidity, but the heart and soul seeks only to experience them and take joy in them.

Exactly. The value of the experience (by the external world’s measures) is minimal, at best. Regardless of the label you apply … out of body experience, astral travel, creative visualization, dream or *only* imagination … the logical world ignores the experience (and experiencer), at best … or ridicules the experience (and experiencer), at worst. 

Only you can determine the experience’s value to you and assign it validity. In order to do this, you need to experience it fully and openly, with no fear and no preconceived definitions … innocently like a child … and in doing this you can fully appreciate it in joy. Then, resist the mind’s temptation to analyze, dissect, assign value, explain, define, label, stereotype and all the other ways we attempt to dismiss our soul’s promptings. We are very, very good at this.

The only questions that have any relevance in relation to these unexplainable occurrences is: Were you in JOY when you were in the experience? Did that JOY carry over into your physical life? If the answer to both of these questions is, “Yes,” then that is the value of the experience. And let me be absolutely clear about this … there is no greater value in the world than this! This is why we are here to begin with, to experience ourselves as joyful, worthy, fun-loving, playful, beautiful children at play in our sandbox.

So, do you want to tell me about your dreams?

Yes, I would love to. The first one occurred about two weeks ago and I wrote a full account of it in my journal the following day. Not only did I dream, but I remembered the dream in a lot of detail, which, again, is not something to which I am accustomed.

I was hiding in the shadows during the filming of the ‘panther coda’ of the Black or White short film (and it is an interesting sideline that photographs of the panther coda have been posted a LOT since I had this dream). There were a lot of people around … a lot of talking and laughing … everyone was having fun … equipment was being moved from place to place … cameras were whirring … and you were there … very visible (and beautiful, I might add at the risk of embarrassing you.) You were dressed in the black pants, black shirt, white t-shirt, armband, taped fingers, black fedora, locks of hair over your right eye swaying with your movements. There was a very loud fan somewhere, blowing on you to ruffle your shirts … just like in the film. The playback was LOUD and so clear (no transistor radio with one earplug here … we are talking full scale recording studio) … really, really, awesome surround sound system … and I could feel that beat pulsing in my legs and spine. I was hiding so that no one could see me because I was fearful of getting kicked off the set. I just wanted to be near you, so I didn’t want to be discovered, least of all, by you because I was afraid you would be angry with me for invading your filming.

[Michael laughs.] There were always people around during filming. Sometimes, Elizabeth was there. Gregory Peck visited on occasion. Mac’s folks and brother. You shouldn’t have been afraid.

Nevertheless, I was scared to death that you would discover me and have me removed. So, I didn’t move or breathe, hardly … hanging back in the shadows behind all the cameras and speakers and cables running along the floor to power all that equipment. I was kinda afraid to move because those cables were thick and heavy and I was afraid I would trip on one and my jig would be up.

You ran through the entire sequence after which there was a break while the cameras and playback were prepared for another take and you were feeling kinda uncomfortable, I thought, just standing there while all this activity was happening all around you. So, I thought quietly, “Relax, Baby, you are beautiful,” just like I did that February night in 1997 at Elizabeth’s Birthday Gala in support of her AMFAR Foundation. (I remember on that occasion how fidgety you were just sitting there in full view of the audience as they trickled in to find their seats. But after I thought, “Relax, Baby, you are beautiful,” you seemed to relax and sit back against the chair and I wondered, “Did he hear me?”)

Just then, you started looking around to find the source of the thought (or at least that was my interpretation … that you heard or felt my love and encouragement on some level) and you saw me standing there in the shadows.

“Oh, my God, he heard me! Did I say that out loud? Oh, no,” I thought, “he’s seen me. That’s it! I’m dead!”

What? That I was going to have you shot or something? I told you before about my sensitivity to thought and emotional energy. Didn’t you believe me?

No … not shot … just surrounded with maybe six of your beefy bodyguards and carried off, kicking and screaming, no doubt. Of course, I believed you, but it’s one thing to believe something like that and a totally other thing to experience it … to think a thought and have someone look around for the source of that thought is a bit unnerving.

Your thought is energy; your thought of L.O.V.E. is the most powerful and creative energy there is. Nothing can stop it, overtake it, slow it down, cast a shadow on it. It is Invincible. That thought of L.O.V.E. can change the world, as you discovered with our visualizations in the past and as you and your friends are discovering with your new initiative.

Anyway, you started walking toward where I was hiding and I froze. I wanted to run deeper into the shadows or find an escape route, but I was literally frozen in place. I could not move. It was that walk … the slow steps with your hands hovering at your hips and swaying from side to side with every step … usually accompanied by cocky, fluid neck rolls … even your fingers become animated during that walk. Darn thing is a dance all by itself!

[Michael chuckles.]

The thing is none of the other people involved in the filming noticed you walking towards me. How could anyone NOT notice that walk? I mean, it’s classic and breathtaking, frighteningly beautiful! But no one else seemed to notice you walking towards me and, more importantly, they didn’t seem to be able to see me. As you took every step, my heart rose higher and higher in my chest and throat. I was absolutely petrified. However, you didn’t look angry. Your eyes were kind and full of love and curiosity and fully focused on mine, baring me to my soul … and there was a little smile on your lips. My eyes were locked on yours. Your walk seemed to take FOREVER … every step was unconscious grace and determined purpose and you seemed able to avoid tripping hazards from the cables without even being aware of it. It seemed like I was holding my breath, savoring each and every movement of your feet and legs, your hands and fingers, even the way your shirt was blown by the fan.

Oh my, I can still feel it as I am describing it to you, my Anam Cara! Have I told you lately how much I love you and how grateful I am for your presence in my life?

No, but I think I get the drift. After all, you spend every waking moment … and some sleeping moments, apparently … writing to me, writing about me, writing with me, drawing me, painting me. Honestly! You are obsessed! And I am just as obsessed with you. I always love you more.

Anyway, at the end of eternity you reached me and my world turned first black as your shirt came closer and closer … and then white as you gathered me to your chest and your t-shirt completely filled my field of vision. You raised your arms to me, but I still couldn’t move so you closed the gap between us while my heart beat fast enough to choke me. You held me so tenderly. I saw your t-shirt, felt the softness of the Egyptian cotton. I saw little beads of sweat on your neck. I wanted to BE those little beads of sweat! [Michael laughs again.] I smelled your cologne. I felt the firmness, yet gentleness, of your hand as your fingers entwined in the hair at the back of my head, the beat of your heart. I went from petrified to absolute bliss in the space of a heartbeat. All I wanted was to stay there wrapped in your arms forever and ever.

When you released me, you stood staring down into my eyes and your love communicated itself to me as you lifted my chin with your index finger and moved forward to kiss me. Just as our lips were about to touch, I woke up! It was 3:00 AM and I used the restroom and then returned to bed, begging to continue the dream where I had left off … but no such luck. However, the next morning on the way to somewhere with my husband in the car, I remembered this dream in full detail and determined to write it all out in my journal so that I didn’t lose any part of it. The sights, the sounds, the clarity of the playback, your appearance, your tenderness, my fear and my joy are precious to me and not only because this represents the first REAL dream I’ve had in a very, very long time. This is the first Michael dream I’ve ever had.

Do you remember when I told you we would be working on this and that your dreams would return as we progressed?

Yes, I do, Beloved One, very clearly. And that is one of the first thoughts I had upon recalling the dream the following day. “He said we would be working on it together … and here we are.” I do know that I was beginning to give up hope. I mean our original conversation about this topic happened a fairly long time ago … three years, I think … and I was beginning to feel that I was just a person who could not dream.

What’s your hurry? Where’s the fire? You’re right … you have absolutely NO patience. Your world has told you that you need to accomplish daily so when you sit and contemplate your satisfaction with your new art studio, you feel that you haven’t accomplished … and you feel guilty. You have, you know. You’ve accomplished satisfaction and a sense of peace and belonging and total appreciation.

You didn’t put those dream blocks in place  and cement them in securely, I might add, in a day or a week or a month. It took years to become so firmly entranched in … and invested in … being a non-dreamer. It makes perfect sense that they will not dissolve in a day or a week or a month. Just as the Berlin Wall took years to be dismantled, your dream blockers will take a while to become dislodged. [Michael chuckles.]

But can you exlain how this is happening?

Noooo! [Michael laughs out loud.] And there ya go trying to dissect and analyze, again. It doesn’t matter how it is happening. What matters is that IT IS HAPPENING (as I told you it would.) 

I think there are a lot of factors involved in the mechanics of the thing and they are all equally important or equally not important.

If you’ll recall, we started out slowly with visualizations intended to envelope the courthouse in love, but, at the same time, we were also releasing your resentments against Conrad and giving you some peace of mind, returning you to a more positive, less fearful perspective. Which of those two is the important factor? Or are they equally important? 

At the time, you didn’t think you would ever get to the point where visualizing was comfortable and natural for you, but you did. You even employed the very same technique on your own when you cleaned up your art studio … naturally. 

Then, we visualized with the Come Together Initiative … and The Library at Neverland … and Neverland Power Naps during which we discussed so many of the issues that had been holding you back from fully experiencing yourself as the beautiful child you really are, while at the same time, again, releasing resentments and clearing negative outlooks to free you from those burdens so many of us carry around with us for years. Which of those factors is the important one? Or do they go hand-in-hand? Is one more beneficial than the other? Is one possible without the other?

Break of Dawn

Break of Dawn

During this same time frame, you were drawing me and finding joy in your progress and keeping your outlook positive and joyful and your attitude playful. You called it ‘playing around’ and ‘fiddling’ and feeling guilty because you weren’t accomplishing anything. What did I tell you about that? 

That I was developing a new skill set and learning as I was playing. You told me that each drawing or painting was a Conversation … a union … a sacrament that we shared. You told me that you played around all the time in the dance studio and that was how you had become who you are … by playing.

Exactly. In this way, you were becoming re-acquainted with your Inner Child, the one the world had taught you to leave behind so very long ago. You were re-discovering those parts of you that you had lost along the way, just as I did. And because you were ‘in JOY’ while doing all this ‘playing around,’ you had managed to release so many of the resentments and angers and frustrations and ‘poor, poor pitiful me’ feelings that you carried around with you all the time. I mean major things happened during this period of ‘playing around’ that almost totally passed you by. Sneddon died, for heaven’s sake … and you almost didn’t notice. You just let all the anger and frustration and hatred and resentment you held against him go. You just let them go. You didn’t fight against them or push against them or set up wars against them. They just became irrelevant … unimportant … no longer needed.

You discovered that you are not your story … that you are so much more than your story. And that you are given the opportunity to rewrite your story every single moment of every single day.

Did you have any kind of intution about this dream as you remembered it?

Yes, I did. This dream seemed to follow a pattern of waking ‘visions’ that I had had through the years in that I was an observer … a witness … rather than a participator in the action. I seemed to be there to support you … to give you strength and encouragement … to love you through these events. These visions began in 1993 and we have talked about it a lot in previous conversations. For those unfamiliar, I saw you in Bangkok, Thailand, pacing the floor of your hotel room as the story of the first set of allegations broke in the world’s press. I saw your pain, felt your heartbreak … and my heart went out to you to comfort you. I sent my love in prayers and in a seven-word telegram.

The second happened in November 2013 during a meditation while I was laid up with a respiratory infection and ‘playing around’ with some of the concepts featured in the books I was reading (like time being flexible and virtual reality). I saw you in the early morning hours during the trial in 2005. Karen and Bush had arrived to help you prepare for the grueling day ahead and you had fallen to the floor in major distress, repeating, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” You all knelt in the guest cottage at Neverland … and I joined you on the floor holding you close … to pray that you would have the strength to show up with dignity. I joined you in those prayers and held you in love. Afterwards, I wrote an essay entitled “In Service to the King” about this vision.

The third occurred during another meditation at around the same time. I was in the room during the photo session at Neverland in 1993, my eyes locked on yours through the entirety of the vision and beaming you love, repeating over and over, “You are not humiliated. You are beautiful and strong and innocent. It is they who humiliate themselves with their callous disregard for your humanity.” I don’t believe I ever wrote about that vision but it, like all the others, was very real. Although terribly distressing, I was and am grateful and honored to have been there to witness and lift you up through a few of the horrors you experienced among us.

In all of these occurrences, it appeared to me that I was there as a witness to lend you strength and to hold you in love. This dream seems to be a continuation of the series of visions. I remember the flap over the ‘panther coda’ so clearly and the misrepresentation you endured and, once again, my role seems to be as a witness and, in this case, to give you my love firsthand, in a way. I feel so blessed and honored to have been a witness to these events.

Yes, I see. These were moments when I drew on your love (all of you) to help me cope and survive the trauma to my soul. That’s an interesting interpretation to put on them. 

Do you remember your first monthly prayer vigil on my behalf?

Yes, indeed, very clearly. It was June of 2010, I think. I had cut out little slips of paper on which I had written brief summaries of events that had, in my opinion, caused your soul trauma and anguish. I tried to meditate or pray for about 20 minutes on those events and then, I burned the slip of paper I had chosen that day for my vigil. It was my attempt to validate you and help heal those wounds.

Yes. Do you think these events were represented in those intentions and slips of paper?

I’d be very, very surprised if they weren’t, Michael. Wow! That’s a connection I hadn’t made.

Star Secret Friend

Star Secret Friend

That is very, very interesting. You asked to be allowed to be with me with your love … to have me be aware somehow that your love was present to help me heal these wounds in your prayer vigil. And one by one these events are being shown to you because you are open and available to them. It doesn’t matter HOW it is occurring. The fact is that it IS occurring and you are witnessing how the love energy of all of you was sensed by the physical as well as the non-physical Michael Jackson. “Fascinating,” as Spock would say.

That is an amazing connection that I had never, ever imagined. Thank you, Beloved … food for thought!

Now, you said you had two dreams. Do you want to tell me about the second?

Absolutely! This one was not as detailed, but it was still visual and auditory … and it happened just last night (April 15, 2015). I was, apparently, looking at houses, for some reason. I say it that way because I have always sworn that I would never move again. My intention is to die in this house and let my kids clean it up … hehehe … serves them right. I truly abhor moving; nonetheless I was looking at houses.

Anyway, the house I was looking at in this dream was your house on the grounds of Neverland in which you kept all your awards and all the gifts from the fans that you collected throughout the years of your career. It was like a 3-bedroom, single story house … and it was just packed to the gills … in every room … every nook and cranny and closet … with STUFF! Your awards hung all over the walls and were scattered on tables and shelves throughout the space and there were boxes of gifts, cards, letters, photographs, drawings, paintings, scrapbooks, stuffed animals everywhere (under tables, in closets, lining the floors, on shelves). And there were little paths like forest trails leading from one room to the other to protect these items that you had saved up for all the years of your career. Baskets, bins, boxes, shelves, tables, walls teaming with STUFF! There were Michael Jackson marionettes hanging from tall shelving units by their crossbars and strings (at least one in your Billie Jean outfit, like mine … I know where that one came from). There were mannequins standing at the windows in police uniforms.

[Michael laughs.] I had some of those!

I know! I could hear soft music playing from outside as I tried to make my way through the paths that had been laid out through all the boxes. And I was able to reach out and explore individual items (like an antique shopping expedition with my husband). It was awesome to witness all the love that was housed in that building! I felt the care that went into the crafting of some of those items when I would hold them in my hands; the energy of that would wash over me when I touched them. I recalled the time and effort so many of your fans would put into the gifts to please you and your joy in discovering that and holding it in your hands.

See? Thought energy … L.O.V.E energy! There’s nothing like it. All you have to do is be open to it and it will rush through you like a tidal wave.

You were not present physically in this dream, but the feeling was that I had been invited, that you welcomed my presence and exploration, and that you could walk through the door at any moment. So, the emotions were joy to be allowed to see this, excitement, a feeling of being a very special guest (because I know that you did not show this house to just anybody) and anticipation of your arrival. It was not a long dream, but any dream to me is a special occasion. This one is no exception.

And, again, did you have any kind of intuition about this dream?

Yes, like the dream and visions before, it seemed that I was there to witness and to re-affirm in my own mind your words about L.O.V.E. being an energy that we can manipulate in prayer or meditation, in art or in writing, in song or in dance or just by living artfully and with mindfulness.

Good. Always pay attention to what your intuition tells you about these events. Often, if you are aware of your intuition, you can save yourself a lot of time and energy in analysis, dissection, and applying labels and values to them. Your heart knows their value to you; no other is relevant.

God bless you. I love you.

I love you M.O.R.E.



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