The Swarm: Was Michael Jackson A Saint?

TheChosenOne

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I just found this on mjeol.com. Interesting read.

The Swarm: Was Michael Jackson a Saint?
by Neighborbee

Guest Blogger Howard Bloom began his legendary career in music public relations when he co-founded The Howard Bloom Organization Ltd in 1976, and helped build or sustain the careers of Michael Jackson, Prince, Bob Marley, Queen, Billy Joel, John Cougar Mellencamp, Simon & Garfunkel, Bette Midler, Joan Jett, AC/DC, Talking Heads, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, and roughly 100 other stars of the 1970s and 1980s. Here he shares some of his personal reflections on the passing of his client, Michael Jackson, and takes us past all the noise to a quieter place.
* * *


On the night of June 25th, when I was on my nightly mile-long 1 am walk that loops me up to Prospect Park then takes me back to my brownstone, I passed a pair of 18 year olds sitting on a stoop at this lonely hour when the streets and sidewalks are usually utterly devoid of human beings. The guy had long dark black curly hair and the girl had a short, blond haircut and was wearing shorts. The male said something to me as I passed. I walked back, took off my headphones, and asked him to repeat it. He said, “Michael Jackson is dead.”

I asked him why he said that to me. I wondered if he knew me from the Tea Lounge on Union Street, where I do my writing, or from the streets and if he knew my Michael Jackson connection. No, he didn’t. He was telling it to everyone. He wanted no one to ignore it.

He was particularly emphatic about making sure that no one over the age of 30 pass it by or dismiss it. Michael Jackson’s death, he felt, was a loss to all of us whether we realized it or not.

How did I get involved with Michael and his brothers?

It was Spring of 1983 and the Jacksons were getting together to go on the road for their Victory Tour. They were getting the whole family together for this tour, including their dad, who had originally managed the rise of the Jackson Five to the top. Their manager for the Victory Tour called me over and over again for four months, asking me to work with the Jacksons. I kept saying no. At this point I’d helped Amnesty International establish itself in North America, had worked with Simon and Garfunkel when they’d reunited for an audience of half a million in a free concert in Central Park, then when they’d gone out on tour, and I had done Queen’s massive tour of 110,000 seat soccer stadiums in South America.

But I liked to do crusades–to fight for truths others didn’t see. The Jackson’s tour didn’t feel like a challenge. It already had it made. Michael had just sold 36 million copies of just one album–Thriller. That’s nearly three times as many as the previous record holder, Peter Frampton. I didn’t feel The Jacksons needed me. So I continued to turn them down. But I felt that if you’re going to say no to someone, at least you should have the courage to say it to their face. So when the Jacksons came into New York and asked me to meet with them at the Helmsley Palace hotel, I had to do it. Even though the meeting was at midnight on a Saturday night, and I worked from 9 am until I dropped during the weekends.

The minute I walked into the suite the Jacksons had set up for meetings, two things were obvious. One … from the body language of these brothers you could tell that The Jacksons were some of the most honest, ethical, open people you would ever meet. Two: They were in very big trouble. They didn’t know what it was. I didn’t know what it was. But what I did know was this: here was a challenge. There was a wrong to be righted. An invisible wrong. A wrong all of us could feel but none of us could name. I had to say yes.

My first meeting with Michael didn’t come until four months later. I was with Michael’s brothers at Marlon’s pool house in Encino–a tiny two-story building with one room per floor in the back yard next to Marlon’s pool. By then I’d done my homework. I’d read thousands of articles on Michael. I’d compiled a dossier on the Jackson’s lives. One thing all the articles agreed on was this: Michael was not a normal human being. The articles called him a bubble baby, described him as a person who would shrink from your touch.

But the fact is that neither Michael nor I had been raised in a conventionally normal childhood; neither of us had been raised among other kids. So I didn’t know the common rituals of normal life. I had to teach myself by watching other people as if they were specimens and I was a visitor from Mars. One of the rituals I’d seen was the handshake between strangers. You know, you see someone you’ve never met before but who others want you to meet. You walk up to him or her, you stick out your hand, and you say, “Hello, my name is ______.” This was a ritual I’d almost never used. But when Michael opened the pool house’s screen door, I walked up to him stuck out my hand and said “Hi I’m Howard.”

I knew what would happen. The articles had explained it. Michael would recoil from my touch. But that’s not what occurred. Michael put out his hand, shook mine, and replied “Hi I’m Michael.” It was as normal and as natural as could be. The media stories were false. But thousands of press people had parroted them as truths. Something strange was happening in Michael’s noosphere–in the sphere of press perception we are handed as reality. Eventually those mistakes would kill him. But that’s a story for another time.

A few minutes later Michael and I climbed the cramped stairs to the tiny room upstairs where Marlon kept his recording equipment. I’d written a press release and I wanted Michael’s approval. We found places to sit on the stacks of amps and keyboards. I read the press release out loud. And as I did, Michael’s body softened. “That’s beautiful,” he said when I was finished, “Did you write that?” The fact was, I had. And the fact was that writing press releases was not just a hack job for me, it was an art. I’d edited a literary magazine that had won two National Academy of Poets prizes. And in the decades since, the Washington Post has called the writing in my books “beautiful.” But no one else had ever seen the art hidden in the craft and the creativity hidden in the ordinary. Michael apparently had.

Once Michael had approved of the press release, we went back downstairs to the small single room on the first floor. Against the walls and lining the room were arcade videogame machines, machines only amusement arcades could afford in those days. And in the center of the room, hogging up most of the space, was a billiard table. The Jacksons were scheduled to have a meeting with an art director from CBS so the group could decide on the Victory Tour album cover. They wanted me to be in on it.

When the art director arrived, she bore the portfolios of five artists, portfolios she stacked at one end of the pool table’s green felt playing surface. These were not just the black vinyl portfolios most commercial artists use to display their work. Every one of these was a custom-made presentation case made of hand-tooled leather or rich cherry wood. And every one was from a legendary artist, an artist at the very top of his field.

We were all bunched together on the opposite side of the pool table from the art director. Michael was in the center. I stood next to him on his left. And the brothers were crowded around us on either side. The CBS art director slid the first of the portfolios toward Michael. He opened the first page, slowly … just enough to see perhaps an inch of the image. As he took in the artwork his knees began to buckle, his elbows bent, and all he could say was “oooohhhhh.” A soft, orgasmic “ooooh.” In that one syllable and in his body language, you could feel what he was seeing.

Do you know the poem by William Blake –

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 . . .
The intense ambition of that poem, the intense desire for wonder, was alive in Michael. More alive than anything of the sort I’d ever seen. Michael saw the infinite in an inch. As Michael opened the page further, inch by inch, his knees and elbows bent even more and his ”ooohs,” his sounds of aesthetic orgasm, grew even more intense. Standing elbow to elbow and shoulder to shoulder with him, you could feel him discovering things in the brush and inkstrokes that even the artist never saw. By the time he’d opened the full page his body and voice expressed an ecstasy. An aesthetic epiphany. I’d never encountered anything like it. Michael felt the beauty of the page with every cell of his being.

I’ve worked with Prince, Bob Marley, Peter Gabriel, Billy Joel, and Bette Midler, some of the most talented people of our generation, and not one of them had the quality of wonder that came alive in Michael. He saw the wonder in everything. His quality of wonder was beyond anything most of us humans can conceive.

Look, above all other things I’m a scientist. Science is my religion. It’s been my religion since I was ten years old. The first two rules of science are 1) the truth at any price including the price of your life; and 2) Look at the things right under your nose as if you’ve never seen them before and then proceed from there. And that’s not just a rule of science. It’s a rule of art. And it’s a rule of life. Very few people know it. Even fewer people live it. But Michael was it, he incarnated it in every follicle of his being. Michael was the closest I’ve ever come to a secular angel. A secular saint.

Look, I’m an atheist, but Michael was not. He believed he was given a gift by God. He believed he was given talents and wonders and astonishments seldom granted to us very fragile human beings. Because God had given him this enormous gift, he felt he owed the experience of wonder, astonishment, awe, and Blake’s infinities to his fellow human beings. But unlike other generous humans–Bill and Melinda Gates, for example–with Michael giving to others was not just a part-time thing. The need to give to others was alive in every breath he took every single day.

Michael Jackson’s entire life was receiving and giving and the whole purpose of receiving was so he could give. He worked with every cell in his body to give the gift of that amazement, that astonishment to his fellow human beings. Needing the adulation of crowds WAS Michael’s connection to others, his most profound connection, far more profound than family and friends (though those are indispensable), and far more healing. That act of giving keeps an iconic person, a person who never knows normalness, alive.

I’d love to tell you the stories of how Michael made these things clear. But, again, those tales will have to wait for another day.

It seems strange to say this, but Michael will always be a part of me. No other superstar I worked with wound himself into the threads at my core the way he did. Michael opened a window to a quality of wonder unlike anything I’d ever been exposed to in my life. For that gift, I felt I owed him. I felt we all owed him. And we still do. We owe him an honest view of who he was. We will owe him that until we finally sweep away the crap of sensationalist headlines and clearly see why those who love him know more about him than any expert or journalist who claims to have probed his life. Those journalists and experts do not know Michael Jackson. But if you love him, there’s a good chance that you do

http://neighborbeebl...aint/#more-6503
 
thank you for posting this. Let me first start by saying that..as far a I am concerned...Michael will always be a saint...to me he was literally perfect. now in the sense of was he an actual saint?? I dont think so. I think God sent Michael here to try and get people to help change the world..and as he says in his lyrics..make it a better place. As far as I am concerned....the world was NOT ready for Michael's energy..his kindness and his goodness. ..So God took him back. The world FAILED Michael...Michael DID NOT fail the world. Now that he is gone.....people are starting to realize what it is the wolrd has lost. Its to bad it took for him to pass away for them to realize what they had the whole time....:(
 
Something strange was happening in Michael’s noosphere–in the sphere of press perception we are handed as reality. Eventually those mistakes would kill him. But that’s a story for another time.

that above quote sujms it all up. it wasn't mistakes by Michael that killed him.l it was mistakes by the press.

the author of this article later admits being in awo of MJ, when, at first, he didn't want to admit it.

as for the question of the headline...if a person is willing to ask it, they must be pondering the possibility.

thanks for posting. i appreciated the article.
 
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He had a saintlike soul in him, that is for sure. For it was so kind, childlike and forgiving, no matter what. He could've turned around and said "Screw it all, the world let me down, don't wanna know any of it anymore". If it weren't for some of his human mistakes, especially given the crazy, even sadistic world full of shady and evil people, that he oftentimes had to live in, he would have been one... I think for sure. His determination and need to feed, to cultivate his innocence, to take care of children and other people and invite them over to Neverland...For the precise reason to live his lost, difficult childhood, and make parents relive theirs, that's something to say he not only felt he had to do that for he loved staying in tune with a divine state, he not only felt that he had to do that to save his soul from all of the things and people that Wanted his soul, but he wanted to specifically cling on to these pure ideals. Otherwise, he wouldn't have made it, and he said so himself. If it weren't for children, for babies, in whom he saw God, his soul would have been lost, anyone of right would have been lost, yet he was obstinate enough to keep on loving and turning the other cheek.
 
Thank you for posting this. I just read this somewhere a couple days ago. I think xthunderx2 stated it very well. I'll also add that perhaps Michael was sent here to teach us. Through the gifts that he left us and for the hard times he went through. He remained very humble and didn't react with nothing but love. I'm sure he was angry about things that happened, but he always handled it with grace. Michael was a great teacher; he taught by example. :yes:
 
Well :blushing:, I always say that Michael was a special angel here on Earth who had a mission to fulfill and a message to transmit to the world. And he did it... :wub: Michael was a rare jewel very precious/special in the Earth. :heart: Therefore, we will nevermore see another human being like him..... :( :cry:
 
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From a very early age I knew Michael was something else. I was crazy about his music..his looks but there was ( and is ) so much more.
I never saw anybody else giving so much love. Michael did not judge. He encouraged people to look with their own eyes...to believe in themselves.
He used his power the right way. I can"t say that for anyone else now that he is gone..:(
If any human being should be considered a saint - it should be Michael. Not conected to any specific religion because Michael brings all kinds of races and cultures together.
Except our broken hearts...I think that the world in general still does not recognizes this terrible loss . Inreplacable loss for a mankind.
 
Thank you for posting. Now there is someone who really could write a book. I'd love to hear more. Hopefully he will continue to tell his stories.
 
Thank you for this article. I always felt Michael was a gift from god to mankind--a gift he hastily took back to protect it from further harm.
God loves us all--but he loves Michael even more, and that brings peace to my heart.
 
Very beautiful article. I loved how he said Michael was the closest he's ever been to an angel. That's such a beautiful thing to say. I will always wonder what Michael would think about people saying such things about him.

You know, it really depends on how one sees Michael through their eyes. To some he was a saint, to others he was just a musician/entertainer/whatever else you want to call him. I admire Michael in many ways and one of the many ways is how inspirational, pure, humble and angelic he was. He definitely was something special and there will never be another person like him. Certainly an angel.
 
Thankyou so much for sharing this beautiful article.

Yes, Michael Jackson has been a true gift from God to the world in every way! Apart from the well-deserved glorious title of 'King of Pop', so many other powerful words can describe his truly beautiful being-angel, Godlike, saint, shaman, guru, mentor, teacher, humanitarian, blessing, a being of L.O.V.E... we-the loyal fans who have walked with him for decades were blessed to know what many people are beginning to know only now-the true Light of the real Michael Jackson...they are beginning to realize the real purpose of his extraordinary life, understand the true greatness of Michael Jackson and the eternal positive, inspiring, uplifting impact he has on mankind and our planet! We love you forever Michael...thankyou for being the Light that you continue to be in this dark, desolate world! We shall always be proud of you and do you proud! We thank God forever for your beautiful being, your glorious life and your eternal spirit! May God bless you and each and every dedicated Michael Jackson fan, and our beautiful planet Earth...(amen)
 
WOW! I am so awed by this essay! Howard Bloom captures the essence of who Michael is...that innocence and wonder Michael always had and cherished and taught us to have. Wow wow wow. Very well written. And the William Blake poem was tied in so well (very nice poem itself).

Thank you for posting this.
 
A secular saint, what a quaint way to phrase it. Indeed, I agree with pretty much everything this artfully written article describes--Michael certainly was a special human being. The writing is just brilliant, and his descriptions of Michael bring him to life in ways biographers would certainly envy.

Overall, this was a very enjoyable read. The poem by William Blake is certainly a good way to tie Michael's insatiable curiosity in artistic terms--to let us envision the world as seen through the eyes of such a person, indeed, to see the world in a grain of sand. This was always Michael's way of doing things--whatever he did, he did it to the ultimate. It was a sight to behold, certainly. He was a sight to behold, too beautiful for words to describe with due justice.

I only wish he wouldn't have used the term "saint." To be honest, I thought at first this was going to be some sort of religious babble...and I almost didn't read it. I'm glad I decided to give it a try in any case, not only because it was excellently penned with care and love, but also because its author happens to be of a scientific mind, and yet still has a love for the arts and great taste in poetry.
 
From a very early age I knew Michael was something else. I was crazy about his music..his looks but there was ( and is ) so much more.
I never saw anybody else giving so much love. Michael did not judge. He encouraged people to look with their own eyes...to believe in themselves.
He used his power the right way. I can"t say that for anyone else now that he is gone..:(

This is very true. He really was, as you put it, "something else." His attitude towards humanity and life in general certainly put him above others of his profession, and celebrities in general, most of whom only seem to half-heartedly humour charity to get a tax break or good publicity. Michael, however, sought to actively better others' lives, and obviously didn't do it for the publicity [he rarely got any positive publicity for his good efforts, especially in the later part of his career.] His support of charities and humanity, especially those who could not advocate for themselves, such as children and people in third-world countries, went far beyond the occasional donation--which means there was a deeper commitment than what drives most people to contribute. There was sincere interest and love behind all the charity he gave to others, because I believe he felt their pain as his own, and wanted to desperately relieve them of it. To make the world a better place, as his famous "Heal the World" song claims. It isn't very often I get tears in my eyes from a performance, but watching Michael perform Heal the World during the Superbowl rendered me speechless, and reduced me to a mumbling, puffy-eyed idiot incapable of forming any coherent thought, or voicing anything other than loud sobs. Why? Because the love behind the deed, the sincerity behind the words and the performance, was plain for all to see.

I certainly can't say the same of anyone who's out there today. The lot of them seem to be obsessed only with their own realities--almost painfully unaware that a world outside of them exists. What lies beyond the latest fashions? On whose sacrifices do all your millions stand? Is there more to life than the glitz of Hollywood? You wouldn't know it by just watching them speak--talk about how great and creative they are, when they aren't, talk about how they love their fans, when all they love is their money, and being the plastic face of some charity of campaign in such a spiritless manner that one would think they viewed their participation in it as a chore rather than a good deed. It's madness.

That's why Michael Jackson was so refreshing, so brilliant, so exceptional--because he never thought himself to be any of these things. He never talked about how eccentric, or artistic and creative he was, in some sort of attempt to delude himself into believing it--because he didn't need to. He knew his actions spoke louder than words, and he always viewed himself as being human. "I am just like anyone. I cut and bleed, and I embarrass easily."

He never made a big spectacle out of a contribution to a charity to boost his image--he did it for the love of the action itself, for the joys of giving--and he didn't give a flying fxxk if the press cared to report on it or not. That's truly laudable, and I can't say many people would give their all the way he did without the incentive of "good person" points being present.

The wonder is in that, where others see themselves in the mirror and cannot look past their own image, Michael saw you, and me, and the entire human race.
 
You've expressed it really accurately and beautifully at the same time... He was 'something else' for real. Won't say a 'saint', but something else, and that was obvious from miles and continents away.

He exuded his special inner goodness, I'd liken it to a sweet flowing river, and that was, I truly believe, God working in him, the human.
 
Yes, truly selfless, sacrificing, saintly...

we love you Michael...thankyou for you...forever...
 
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