“It’s easy to mistake being innocent for being simpleminded or naive. We all want to seem sophisticated: we all want to seem street-smart. To be innocent is to be “out of it.”
Yet there is a deep truth in innocence. A baby looks in his mother’s eyes, and all he sees is love. As innocence fades away, more complicated things take its place. We think we need to outwit others and scheme to get what we want. We begin to spend a lot of energy protecting ourselves. Then life turns into a struggle. People have no choice but to be street-smart. How else can they survive?
When you get right down to it, survival means seeing things the way they really are and responding. It means being open. And that’s what innocence is. It’s simple and trusting like a child, not judgmental and committed to one narrow point of view. If you are locked into a pattern of thinking and responding, your creativity gets blocked. You miss the freshness and magic of the moment. Learn to be innocent again, and that freshness never fades.” Michael Jackson
No one was more excited than Michael when our eldest sister arrived, and he was the perfect doting uncle. He spent more time with Stacee, pulling faces to make her coo and laugh, than he did with anyone else. In fact, I don’t know who was entertaining whom as they crawled around on hands and knees. We left them alone, with Michael dangling a red, white and black transistor radio, shaped like a globe, over her crib. We must have been catching up with Rebbie in the adjoining room for about an hour when we wondered, “Is Michael still in there?”
Rebbie went to check. Seconds later, she popped her head around the door, waved us over, but put a finger to her lips. We all crept to the doorway and saw the funniest, cutest sight—Michael had climbed into the crib, cuddled up next to Stacee, and fallen fast asleep. It was an angelic sight. Michael was 13.
His empathy, gentleness and connection with children were always an intrinsic and innocent part of him.
Jermaine Jackson, “You Are Not Alone”
Folks, I think this is it; this blog has developed Diabetes.
^ Means it was too sweet.
“This is not the Grammys. This is church.”
"He’s like a magical faun with a curl. Very rare."
“This might be the most beautiful performance of our most beautiful song.”
"Mike just Eastside Stomped all over the Grammy stage. He is the chosen one."
"If you aren’t moved by this, you don’t have a soul."
“Few people have ever “left it on the field,” like Michael Jackson at the 1988 Grammys. No one’s ever done anything like this.”
"I just don’t get it. I don’t know how you remain glued to your seat as new religions are being formed onstage."
"Michael is shouting ad-libs at the audience, which is important, because if there’s one thing this performance is, it’s a sermon. He’s just up on that stage, converting lost souls.”
"In our eighth minute, we finally reach the filthiest breakdown in a live performance that I’ve ever heard. It’s just disgusting how good this is. And that’s only aided by the fact that Michael is writhing on the floor."
"Respect this mythical creature and his hops."
"I think Michael has blacked out. I don’t think he has any idea where he is."
"And now he’s deep-voice scatting and screaming. Yep, definitely blacked out. One hundred percent thinks he’s in Gary. So pleased with him."
"Look how frizzy his little curl mullet is. That’s what hard work looks like."
I love this review, so true and fun
[Name blacked out]
Thank you for illuminating my whole being. You continue to surprise me with both fantasy and wonder. I’m so sorry for not being here when you wake up. I love you, [name blacked out]. From the bottom of my heart and soul, from France to Italy, I love you.
I will call you when I have landed.
Michael Jackson, Unknown Source and Time