Dancing The Dream - Poems and Reflections by Michael Jackson

introduction

When I hear the name Michael Jackson, I think of brilliance, of dazzling stars, lasers and deep emotions. I adore Michael Jackson. I think he is one of the world's biggest and greatest stars, and it just so happens that he is one of the most gifted music makers the world has ever known.
What makes Michael more unique may be the fact that all of his accomplishments, his rewards, have not altered his sensitivity and concern for the welfare of others, or his intense caring and love for his family and friends, especially all the children the world over.
I think Michael is like litmus paper. He is always trying to learn. He is sio intelligent that he is alarmingly bright. He is also very curious and wants to draw from people who have survived. People who have lasted. He is not really of this planet. He is filled with deep emotions that create an unearthly, special, innocent, childlike, wise man that is Michael Jackson. I think Michael appeals to the child in all of us, and I think he has the quality of innocence that we would all like to obtain or to have kept.
He has one of the sharpest wits, he is intelligent and he is cunning-that is a strange word to use about him, because it implies deviousness and he is one of the least devious people I have ever met in my life. He is honesty personified-painfully honest-and vulnerable to the point of pain. He is so giving of himself that, at times, he leaves very little to protect that beautiful inner core that is the essence of him. That is the thing that I love so much about him and that makes the world identify with him in the way it does.
Michael Jackson is, indeed, an international favorite for all ages, an incredible force of incredible energy. In art of music, he is a pacesetter for quality of production, in the vanguard for high standards of entertainment. What is a genius? What is a living legend? What is a megastar? Michael Jackson-that's all. And just when you think you know him, he gives you more . . .
I think he is one of the finest people to hit this planet, and, in my estimation, he is the true King of Pop, Rock and Soul.

-Elizabeth Taylor

dancing the dream

Consciousness expresses itself through creation. This world we live in is the dance of the creator. Dancers come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on. On many an occasion when I'm dancing, I've felt touched by something sacred. In those moments, I've felt my spirit soar and become one with everything that exists. I become the stars and the moon. I become the lover and the beloved. I become the victor and the vanquished. I become the master and the slave. I become the singer and the song. I become the knower and the known. I keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation. The creator and creation merge into one wholeness of joy.

I keep on dancing . . . . . . . and dancing, until there is only . . . . . . the dance.

-Michael Jackson

PLANET earth

Planet Earth, my home, my place
A capricious anomaly in the sea of space
Planet Earth, are you just
Floating by, a cloud of dust
A minor globe about to bust
A piece of metal bound to rust
A speck of matter in a mindless void
A lonely spaceship, a large asteriod

Cold as a rock without a hue
Held together with a bit of glue
Something tells me this isn't true
You are my sweetheart, soft and blue
Do you care, have you a part
In the deepest emotions of my own heart
Tender with breezes, caressing and whole
Alive with music, haunting my soul.

In my veins I've felt the mystery
Of corridors of time, books of history
Life songs of ages throbbing in my blood
Have danced the rhythm of the tide and flood
Your misty clouds, your electric storm

Were turbulent tempests in my own form
I've licked the salt, the bitter, the sweet
Of every encounter, of passion, of heat
Your riotous color, your fragrance, your taste
Have thrilled my senses beyond all haste
In your beauty I've known the how
Of timeless bliss, this moment of now.

Planet Earth, are you just
Floating by, a cloud of dust
A minor globe about to bust
A piece of metal bound to rust
A speck of matter in a mindless void
A lonely spaceship, a large asteriod

Cold as a rock without a hue
Held together with a bit of glue
Something tells me this isn't true
You are my sweetheart, gentle and blue
Do you care, have you a part
In the deepest emotions of my own heart
Tender with breezes, caressing and whole
Alive with music, haunting my soul.

Planet Earth, gentle and blue
With all my heart, I love you.

part 1

MAGICAL child

Once there was a child and he was free
Deep inside, he felt the laughter
The mirth and play of nature's glee
He was not troubled by thoughts of hereafter
Beauty, love was all he'd see

He knew his power was the power of God
He was so sure, they considered him odd
This power of innocence, of compassion, of light
Threatened the priests and created a fright
In endless ways they sought to dismantle
This mysterious force which they could not handle

In endless ways they tried to destroy
His simple trust, his boundless joy
His invincible armor was a shield of bliss
Nothing could touch it, no venom, no hiss

The child remained in a state of grace
He wasn't confined in time or place
In Technicolor dreams, he frolicked and played
While acting his part, in Eternity he stayed

Soothsayers came and fortunes were told
Some were vehement, others were bold
In denouncing this child, this perplexing creature
With the rest of the world he shared no feature
Is he real? He is so strange
His unpredictable nature knows no range
He puzzles us so, is he straight?
What's his destiny? What's his fate?

And while they whispered and conspired
Through endless rumors to get him tired
To kill his wonder, trample him near
Burn his courage, fuel his fear
The child remained just simple, sincere

All he wanted was the mountain high
Color the clouds, paint the sky
Beyond these boundaries, he wanted to fly
In nature's scheme, never to die

Don't stop this child, he's the father of man
Don't cross his way, he's part of the plan
I am that Child, but so are you
You've just forgotten, just lost the clue

Inside your heart sits a Seer
Between his thoughts, he can hear
A melody simple but wondrously clear
The music of life, so precious, so dear

If you could for one moment know
This spark of creation, this exquisite glow
You would come and dance with me
Kindle this fire so we could see
All the children of the Earth
Weave their magic and give new birth
To a world of freedom with no pain
A world of joy, much more sane

Deep inside, you know it's true
Just find that child, it's hiding in you.

WINGS without ME

It was August, and I was looking up at the sky. With one hand shielding my eyes, I made out a falcon soaring on the currents of hot swirlinging air. Higher and higher it spiraled, until with one unearthly shriek, it disappeared.
All at once I felt left behind. "Why did you grow wings without me?" I mourned. Then my spirit said, "The falcon's way is not the only way. Your thoughts are as free as any bird." So I shut my eyes and my spirit took off, spiraling as high as the falcon and then beyond, so that I was looking down over the whole earth. But something was wrong. Why did I feel so cold and alone?

"You grew wings without me," my heart said. "What good is freedom without love?" So I went quietly to the bed of a sick child and sang him a lullaby. He fell asleep smiling, and my heart took off, joining my spirit as it circled over the earth. I was free and loving, but still something was wrong
"You grew wings without me," my body said. "Your flights are only imagination." So I looked into books that I had ignored before and read about saints in every age who actually flew. In India, Persia, China, and Spain (even in Los Angeles!), the power of spirit has reached, not just into the heart, but into every cell of the body. "As if carried aloft by a great eagle," Saint Teresa said, "my ecstasy lifted me into the air."

I began to believe in this amazing feat, and for the first time, I didn't feel left behind. I was the falcon and the child and the saint. In my eyes their lives became sacred, and the truth came home: When all life is seen as divine, everyone grows wings.

DANCE OF life

I cannot escape the moon. Its soft beams push aside the curtains at night. I don't even have to see it — a cool blue energy falls across my bed and I am up. I race down the dark hall and swing open the door, not to leave home but to go back into it. "Moon, I'm here!" I shout.
"Good," she replies. "Now give us a little dance.
"But my body has started moving long before she says anything. When did it start? I can't remember — my body has always been moving. Since childhood I have reacted to the moon this way, as her favorite lunatic, and not just hers. The stars draw me near, close enough so that I see through their twinkling act. They're dancing, too, doing a soft molecular jiggle that makes my carbon atoms jump in time.

With my arms flung wide, I head for the sea, which brings out another dance in me. Moon dancing is slow inside, and soft as blue shadows on the lawn. When the surf booms, I hear the heart of the earth, and the tempo picks up. I feel the dolphins leaping in the white foam, trying to fly, and almost flying when the waves curl high to the heavens. Their tails leave arcs of light as plankton glow in the waves. A school of minnows rises up, flashing silver in the moonlight like a new constellation.
"Ah!" the sea says, "Now we're gathering a crowd."

I run along the beach, catching waves with one foot and dodging them with the other. I hear faint popping sounds — a hundred panicky sand crabs are ducking into their holes, just in case. But I'm racing now, sometimes on my toes, sometimes running flat-out.
I throw my head back and a swirling nebula says, "Fast now, twirl!"
Grinning, ducking my head for balance, I start to spin as wildly as I can. This is my favorite dance, because it contains a secret. The faster I twirl, the more I am still inside. My dance is all motion without, all silence within. As much as I love to make music, it's the unheard music that never dies. And silence is my real dance, though it never moves. It stands aside, my choreographer of grace, and blesses each finger and toe.

I have forgotten the moon now and the sea and the dolphins, but I am in their joy more than ever. As far away as a star, as near as a grain of sand, the presence rises, shimmering with light. I could be in it forever, it is so loving and warm. But touch it once, and light shoots forth from the stillness. It quivers and thrills me, and I know my fate is to show others that this silence, this light, this blessing is my dance. I take this gift only to give it again.
"Quick, give!" says the light.

As never before, I try to obey, inventing new steps, new gestures of joy. All at once I sense where I am, running back up the hill. The light in my bedroom is on. Seeing it brings me back down. I begin to feel my pounding heart, the drowsiness in my arms, the warm blood in my legs. My cells want to dance slower. "Can we walk a little?" they ask. "It's been kind of wild."
"Sure." I laugh, slowing to an easy amble.

I turn the doorknob, panting lightly, glad to be tired. Crawling back into bed, I remember something that I always wonder at. They say that some of the stars that we see overhead aren't really there. Their light takes millions of years to reach us, and all we are doing is looking into the past, into a bygone moment when those stars could still shine.
"So what does a star do after it quits shining?" I ask myself. "Maybe it dies."
"Oh, no," a voice in my head says. "A star can never die. It just turns into a smile and melts back into the cosmic music, the dance of life." I like that thought, the last one I have before my eyes close. With a smile, I melt back into the music myself.

WHEN babies SMILE

When dreamers dream and kiss their lover
And rainbows weave and splash their color
Those are moments so gloriously alive
We take the plunge, take the dive
Into the abyss
We are suspended awhile
Those are moments when babies smile

Those are moments when fate is unsealed
Nothing is impossible and we are healed
We can soar, we can fly
Walk on fire, navigate the sky
In the light of a glittering star
There's no distance, nothing is far
Those are moments of innocent guile
In the glow
We are suspended awhile
Those are moments when babies smile

Those are moments when the heart is tender
When seascapes gleam in magnificent splendor
When the laughter of Heaven reverberates the Earth
And we are renewed in a new birth
In a timeless Eternity
In the angels' fraternity
We romp and roll
The playground of our soul
In the twilight
We are suspended awhile
Those are moments when babies smile

Those are moments we're one with God
All is well, nothing is odd
In silent reflection
We feel our perfection
We are the source, we are the crucible
Nothing can hurt us, for we are invincible
There is no sin, there is no sinner
We can only win, we have felt the glimmer
In the bliss
We're floating awhile
Those are moments when babies smile

Kingdoms topple, lose their class
Civilizations crumble, ages pass
Turbulent tempests ravage the seas
Violent killings, despite our pleas
But dewdrops sparkle when children play
Tyrants cry, there's nothing to slay
Fairies dance and goblins sing
All are crowned, all are king
In the Garden
We frolic awhile
Those are moments when babies smile.

BUT THE heart SAID NO

They saw the poor living in cardboard shacks, so they knocked the shacks down and built projects. Huge blocks of cement and glass towered over asphalt parking lots. Somehow it wasn't much like home, even home in a shack. "What do you expect?" they asked impatiently. "You're too poor to live like us. Until you can do better for yourselves, you should be grateful, shouldn't you?"
The head said yes, but the heart said no.

They needed more electricity in the city, so they found a mountain stream to dam. As the waters rose, dead rabbits and deer floated by; baby birds too young to fly drowned in the nest while mother birds cried helplessly. "It's not a pretty sight," they said, "but now a million people can run their air conditioners all summer. That's more important than one mountain stream, isn't it?"
The head said yes, but the heart said no.

They saw oppression and terrorism in a far-off land, so they made war against it. Bombs reduced the country to rubble. Its population cowered in fear, and every day more villagers were buried in rough wooden coffins. "You have to be prepared to make sacrifices," they said. "If some innocent bystanders get hurt, isn't that just the price one must pay for peace?"
The head said yes, but the heart said no.

The years rolled by and they got old. Sitting in their comfortable houses, they took stock. "We've had a good life," they said, "and we did the right thing." Their children looked down and asked why poverty, pollution, and war were still unsolved. "You'll find out soon enough," they replied. "Human beings are weak and selfish. Despite our best efforts, these problems will never really end."

The head said yes, but the children looked into their hearts and whispered, "No!"

children OF THE WORLD

Children of the world, we'll do it
We'll meet on endless shores
Making sandcastles and floating our boats
While people fight and defend their point of view
Forever putting on masks that are new
We'll swing the tide of time and do it.

Children of the world, we'll do it
With song and dance and innocent bliss
And the soft caress of a loving kiss
We'll do it.

While traders trade and haggle their price
And politicians try so hard to be nice
We'll meet on endless shores and floating our boats
We'll do it.

While lawyers argue and doctors treat
Stockbrokers quote the price on meat
While preachers preach and ring the bell
Carpetbaggers with something to sell
We'll sing and dance in innocent bliss
With the soft caress of a loving kiss
We'll do it
Meeting on endless shores
Making sandcastles and floating our boats
We'll do it.

We'll ride a rainbow, a cloud, a storm
Flying in the wind, we'll change our form
We'll touch the stars, embrace the moon
We'll break the barrier and be there soon

While architects plan their buildings high
And trade unions raise their hue and cry
While boardroom squabbles generate heat
And in secret places dealers meet
We'll sing and dance in innocent bliss
With the soft caress of a loving kiss
We'll do it.

While philosophers grapple and continue to tackle
Endless dilemmas of body and mind
Physicists wander, continue to ponder
Perennial questions of space and time
Archaeologists survey, continue to dig
Bygone treasures small and big
Psychologists probe, analyze the tears
Of hysterical notions, phobias, fears

While priests take confession
In a serious session
And people struggle
In the hustle and bustle
In the noise and din
On the meaning of sin
We'll touch the stars, embrace the moon
Break the barrier, arrive there soon
Ride the rainbow, the cloud, the storm
Flying in the wind, changing our form

Children of the world, we'll do it
With song and dance and innocent bliss
The soft caress of a loving kiss
We'll do it.

SO THE elephants MARCH

A curious fact about elephants is this: In order to survive, they mustnt fall down. Every other animal can stumble and get back up again. But an elephant always stands up, even to sleep. If one of the herd slips and falls, it is helpless. It lies on its side, a prisoner of its own weight. Although the other elephants will press close around it in distress and try to lift it up again, there isnt usually much they can do. With slow heaving breaths, the fallen elephant dies. The others stand vigil, then slowly move on.

This is what I learned from nature books, but I wonder if they are right. Isnt there another reason why elephants cant fall down? Perhaps they have decided not to. Not to fall down is their mission. As the wisest and most patient of the animals, they made a pact — I imagine it was eons ago, when the ice ages were ending. Moving in great herds across the face of the earth, the elephants first spied tiny men prowling the tall grasses with their flint spears.
What fear and anger this creature has, the elephants thought. But he is going to inherit the earth. We are wise enough to see that. Let us set an example for him.

Then the elephants put their grizzled heads together and pondered. What kind of example could they show to man? They could show him that their power was much greater than his, for that was certainly true. They could display their anger before him, which was terrible enough to uproot whole forests. Or they could lord it over man through fear, trampling his fields and crushing his huts.
In moments of great frustration, wild elephants will do all of these things, but as a group, putting their heads together, they decided that man would learn best from a kinder message.

Let us show him our reverence for life, they said. And from that day on, elephants have been silent, patient, peaceful creatures. They let men ride them and harness them like slaves. They permit children to laugh at their tricks in the circus, exiled from the great African plains where they once lived as lords.
But the elephants most important message is in their movement. For they know that to live is to move. Dawn after dawn, age after age, the herds march on, one great mass of life that never falls down, an unstoppable force of peace.

Innocent animals, they do not suspect that after all this time, they will fall from a bullet by the thousands. They will lie in the dust, mutilated by our shameless greed. The great males fall first, so that their tusks can be made into trinkets. Then the females fall, so that men may have trophies. The babies run screaming from the smell of their own mothers blood, but it does them no good to run from the guns. Silently, with no one to nurse them, they will die, too, and all their bones bleach in the sun.

In the midst of so much death, the elephants could just give up. All they have to do is drop to the ground. That is enough. They dont need a bullet: Nature has given them the dignity to lie down and find their rest. But they remember their ancient pact and their pledge to us, which is sacred.
So the elephants march on, and every tread beats out words in the dust: Watch, learn, love. Watch, learn, love. Can you hear them? One day in shame, the ghosts of ten thousand lords of the plains will say, We do not hate you. Dont you see at last? We were willing to fall, so that you, dear small ones, will never fall again."

THE boy AND THE PILLOW

A wise father wanted to teach his young son a lesson. "Here is a pillow covered in silk brocade and stuffed with the rarest goose down in the land," he said. "Go to town and see what it will fetch."
First the boy went to the marketplace, where he saw a wealthy feather merchant. "What will you give me for this pillow?" he asked. The merchant narrowed his eyes. "I will give you fifty gold ducats, for I see that this is a rare treasure indeed."
The boy thanked him and went on. Next he saw a farmer's wife peddling vegetables by the side of the road. "What will you give me for this pillow?" he asked. She felt it and exclaimed, "How soft it is! I'll give you one piece of silver, for I long to lay my weary head on such a pillow."

The boy thanked her and walked on. Finally he saw a young peasant girl washing the steps of a church. "What will you give me for this pillow?" he asked. Looking at him with a strange smile, she replied, "I'll give you a penny, for I can see that your pillow is hard compared to these stones." Without hesitation, the boy laid the pillow at her feet.
When he got home, he said to his father, "I have gotten the best price for your pillow." And he held out the penny.
"What?" his father exclaimed. "That pillow was worth a hundred gold ducats at least."

"That's what a wealthy merchant saw," the boy said, "but being greedy, he offered me fifty. I got a better offer than that. A farmer's wife offered me one piece of silver."
"Are you mad?" his father said. "When is one piece of silver worth more than fifty gold ducats?"
"When it's offered out of love," the boy replied. "If she had given me more, she wouldn't have been able to feed her children. Yet I got a better offer than that. I saw a peasant girl washing the steps of a church who offered me this penny."

"You have lost your wits completely," his father said, shaking his head. "When is a penny worth more than one piece of silver?"
"When it's offered out of devotion," the boy replied. "For she was laboring for her Lord, and the steps of His house seemed softer than any pillow. Poorer than the poorest, she still had time for God. And that is why I offered her the pillow."
At this the wise father smiled and embraced his son, and with a tear in his eye he murmured, "You have learned well."

enough FOR TODAY

Dance rehearsals can go on past midnight, but this time I stopped at ten. "I hope you don't mind," I said, looking up into space, "but that's enough for today."
A voice from the control room spoke. "You okay?"
"A little tired, I guess," I said.
I slipped on a windbreaker and headed down the hall. Running footsteps came up behind me. I was pretty sure who they belonged to. "I know you too well," she said, catching up with me. "What's really wrong?"

I hesitated. "Well, I don't know how this sounds, but I saw a picture today in the papers. A dolphin had drowned in a fishing net. From the way its body was tangled in the lines, you could read so much agony. Its eyes were vacant, yet there was still that smile, the one dolphins never lose, even when they die..." My voice trailed off.
She put her hand lightly in mine. "I know, I know."

"No, you don't know all of it yet. It's not just that I felt sad, or had to face the fact that an innocent being had died. Dolphins love to dance -- of all the creatures in the sea, that's their mark. Asking nothing from us, they cavort in the waves while we marvel. They race ahead of ships, not to get there first but to tell us, 'It's all meant to be play. Keep to your course, but dance while you do it.'
"So there I was, in the middle of rehearsal, and I thought, 'They're killing a dance.' And then it seemed only right to stop. I can't keep the dance from being killed, but at least I can pause in memory, as one dancer to another. Does that make any sense?"

Her eyes were tender. "Sure, in its way. Probably we'll wait years before everyone agrees on how to solve this thing. So many interests are involved. But it's too frustrating waiting for improvements tomorrow. Your heart wanted to have its say now."
"Yes," I said, pushing the door open for her. "I just had this feeling, and that's enough for today."

MARK OF THE ancients

He had lived in the desert all his life, but for me it was all new. "See that footprint in the sand?" he asked, pointing to a spot by the cliff. I looked as close as I could. "No, I don't see anything."
"That's just the point." He laughed. "Where you can't see a print, that's where the Ancient Ones walked."
We went on a little farther, and he pointed to an opening, high up on the sandstone wall. "See that house up there?" he asked. I squinted hard. "There's nothing to see."

"You're a good student." He smiled. "Where there's no roof or chimney, that's where the Ancient Ones are most likely to have lived."
We rounded a bend, and before us was spread a fabulous sight — thousands upon thousands of desert flowers in bloom. "Can you see any missing?" he asked me. I shook my head. "It's just wave after wave of loveliness."

"Yes," he said in a low voice. "Where nothing is missing, that's where the Ancient Ones harvested the most."
I thought about all this, about how generations had once lived in harmony with the earth, leaving no marks to scar the places they inhabited. At camp that night I said, "You left out one thing." "What's that?" he asked.
"Where are the Ancient Ones buried?"

Without reply, he poked his stick into the fire. A bright flame shot up, licked the air, and disappeared. My teacher gave me a glance to ask if I understood this lesson. I sat very still, and my silence told him I did.

HEAL THE world

There's a place in your heart
And I know that it is love
And this place could be much brighter
Than tomorrow
And if you really try
You'll find there's no need to cry
In this place I feel there's no hurt or sorrow

There are ways to get there
If you care enough for the living
Make a little space
Make a better place.
Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place
For you and for me

If you want to know why, there's a love that cannot lie
Love is strong, it cares for only joyful giving
If we try, we shall see
In this bliss we cannot feel
Fear or dread

Then we just stop existing and start living
Then it feels that always
Love's enough for us growing
Make a better world
Make a better world.
Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place for you and for me.

And the dream we were conceived in
Will reveal its joyful face
And the world we once believed in
Will shine again in grace

Then why do we keep strangling life
Wound this earth, crucify its soul
Tho it's plain to see
This world is heavenly
We could be God's glow.
We could fly so high
Let our spirits never die

In my heart I feel you are all my brothers
Create a world with no fear
Together we'll cry happy tears
So that nations turn their swords into plowshares
We could really get there
If you cared enough for the living
Make a little space
To make a better place
Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place
For you and for me
Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place
For you and for me

Heal the world
Make it a better place
For you and for me
And the entire human race

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place
For you and for me

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place
For you and for me

There are people dying
If you care enough for the living
Make a better place
For you and for me
For you and for me
For you and for me
For you and for me
For you and for me
You and for me
You and for me

children

Children show me in their playful smiles the divine in everyone. This simple goodness shines straight from their hearts. This has so much to teach. If a child wants chocolate ice cream, he just asks for it. Adults get tangled up in complications over whether to eat the ice cream or not. A child simply enjoys.

What we need to learn from children isn't childish. Being with them connects us to the deep wisdom of life, which is everpresent and only asks to be lived. Now, when the world is so confused and its problems so complicated, I feel we need our children more than ever. Their natural wisdom points the way to solutions that lie, waiting to be recognized, within our own hearts.

mother

Eons of time I've been gestating
To take a form been hesitating
From the unmanifest this cosmic conception
On this earth a fantastic reception
And then one fateful August morn
From your own distress you paid no heed
Unmindful of any risk and danger
You decided upon this lonely stranger

Rainbows, clouds, the deep blue sky
Glittering birds and fly on high
Out of fragments you've made my whole
From the elements you fashioned my soul
Mother dear, you gave me life
Because of you, no struggle or strife
You gave me joy and position
Cared for me without condition
And if I ever change this world
It's from the emotions you'e unfurl'd
Your compassion is so sweet and dear
You finest feelings I can hear
I can sense your faintest notion
The wondrous magic of your love potion

And now that I have come so far
Met with every king and czar
Encountered every color and creed
Of every passion, every greed
I go back to that starry night
With not a fear for muscle or might
You taught me how to stand and fight
For every single wrong and right
Every day without a hold
I will treasure what you've mold
I will remember every kiss
Your sweet words I'll never miss
No matter where I go from here
You're in my heart, my mother dear.

magic

My idea of magic doesn't have much to do with stage tricks and illusions. The whole world abounds in magic. When a whale plunges out of the sea like a newborn mountain, you gasp in unexpected delight. What magic! But a toddler who sees his first tadpole flashing in a mud puddle feels the same thrill. Wonder fills his heart, because he has glimpsed for an instant the playfulness of life.
When I see the clouds whisked away from a snow-capped peak, I feel like shouting, "Bravo!" Nature, the best of all magicians, has delivered another thrill. She has exposed the real illusion, our inability to be amazed by her wonders. Every time the sun rises, Nature is repeating one command: "Behold!" Her magic is infinitely lavish, and in return all we have to do is appreciate it.

What delight Nature must feel when she makes stars out of swirling gas and empty space. She flings them like spangles from a velvet cape, a billion reasons for us to awaken in pure joy. When we open our hearts and appreciate all she has given us, Nature finds her reward. The sound of applause rolls across the universe, and she bows.

THE fish THAT WAS THIRSTY

One night a baby fish was sleeping under some coral when God appeared to him in a dream. "I want you to go forth with a message to all the fish in the sea," God said.
"What should I tell them?" the little fish asked.
"Just tell them you're thirsty," God replied. "And see what they do." Then without another word, He disappeared.
The next morning the little fish woke up and remembered his dream. "What a strange thing God wants me to do," he thought to himself. But as soon as he saw a large tuna swimming by, the little fish piped up, "Excuse me, but I'm thirsty."
"Then you must be a fool," then tuna said. And with a disdainful flick of his tail, he swam away.

The little fish did feel rather foolish, but he had his orders. The next fish he saw was a grinning shark. Keeping a safe distance, the little fish called out, "Excuse me, sir, but I'm thirsty."
"Then you must be crazy," the shark replied. Noticing a rather hungry look in the shark's eye, the little fish swam away quickly.
All day he met cod and mackerels and swordfish and groupers, but every time he made his short speech, they turned their backs and would have nothing to do with him. Feeling hopelessly confused, the little fish sought out the wisest creature in the sea, who happened to be an old blue whale with three harpoon scars on his side.

"Excuse me, but I'm thirsty!" the little fish shouted, wondering if the old whale could even see him, he was such a tiny speck. But the wise one stopped in his tracks. "You've seen God, haven't you?" he said.
"How did you know?"
"Because I was thirsty once, too." The old whale laughed.
The little fish looked very surprised. "Please tell me what this message from God means," he implored.

"It means that we are looking for Him in the wrong places," the old whale explained. "We look high and low for God, but somehow He's not there. So we blame Him and tell ourselves that He must have forgotten us. Or else we decide that He left a long time ago, if He was ever around."
"How strange," the little fish said, "to miss what is everywhere."
"Very strange," the old whale agreed. "Doesn't it remind you of fish who say they're thirsty?"

innocence

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.

trust

As I was feeding squirrels in the park, I noticed a small one that didnt seem to trust me. While the others came close enough to eat out of my hand, he kept his distance. I threw a peanut his way. He edged up, grabbed it nervously, and ran off. Next time he must have felt less afraid, because he came a little closer. The safer he felt, the more he trusted me. Finally he sat right at my feet, as bold as any squirrel clamoring for the next peanut.

Trust is like that — it always seems to come down to trusting in yourself. Others cant overcome fear for you; you have to do it on your own. Its hard, because fear and doubt hold on tight. We are afraid of being rejected, of being hurt once more. So we keep a safe distance. We think separating ourselves from others will protect us, but that doesnt work, either. It leaves us feeling alone and unloved.

Trusting yourself begins by recognizing that its okay to be afraid. Having fear is not the problem, because everyone feels anxious and insecure sometimes. The problem is not being honest enough to admit your fear. Whenever I accept my own doubt and insecurity, Im more open to other people. The deeper I go into myself, the stronger I become, because I realize that my real self is much bigger than any fear.
In accepting yourself completely, trust becomes complete. There is no longer any separation between people, because there is no longer any separation inside. In the space where fear used to live, love is allowed to grow.

courage

It's curious what takes courage and what doesn't. When I step out on stage in front of thousands of people, I don't feel that I'm being brave. It can take much more courage to express true feelings to one person. When I think of courage, I think of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz. He was always running away from danger. He often cried and shook with fear. But he was also sharing his real feelings with those he loved, even though he didn't always like those feelings.

That takes real courage, the courage to be intimate. Expressing your feelings is not the same as falling apart in front of someone else — it's being accepting and true to your heart, whatever it may say. When you have the courage to be intimate, you know who you are, and you're willing to let others see that. It's scary, because you feel so vulnerable, so open to rejection. But without self-acceptance, the other kind of courage, the kind heroes show in movies, seems hollow. In spite of the risks, the courage to be honest and intimate opens the way to self-discovery. It offers what we all want, the promise of love.

love

Love is a funny thing to describe. It's so easy to feel and yet so slippery to talk about. It's like a bar of soap in the bathtub — you have it in your hand until you hold on too tight.
Some people spend their lives looking for love outside themselves. They think they have to grasp it in order to have it. But loves slips away like that wet bar of soap.
Holding on to love is not wrong, but you need to learn to hold it lightly, caressingly. Let it fly when it wants. When it's allowed to be free, love is what makes life alive, joyful, and new. It's the juice and energy that motivates my music, my dancing, everything. As long as love is in my heart, it's everywhere.

god

It's strange that God doesn't mind expressing Himself/Herself in all the religions of the world, while people still cling to the notion that their way is the only right way. Whatever you try to say about God, someone will take offense, even if you say everyone's love of God is right for them.

For me the form God takes is not the most important thing. What's most important is the essence. My songs and dances are outlines for Him to come in and fill. I hold out the form. She puts in the sweetness.

I've looked up at the night sky and beheld the stars so intimately close, it was as if my grandmother had made them for me. "How rich, how sumptuous," I thought. In that moment I saw God in His creation. I could as easily have seen Her in the beauty of a rainbow, the grace of a deer bounding through a meadow, the truth of a father's kiss. But for me the sweetest contact with God has no form. I close my eyes, look within, and enter a deep soft silence. The infinity of God's creation embraces me. We are one.

HOW I MAKE music

People ask me how I make music. I tell them I just step into it. It's like stepping into a river and joining the flow. Every moment in the river has its song. So I stay in the moment and listen.

What I hear is never the same. A walk through the woods brings a light crackling song : Leaves rustle in the wind, birds chatter and squirrels scold, twigs crunch underfoot, and the beat of my heart holds it all together. When you join the flow, the music is inside and outside, and both are the same. As long as I can listen to the moment, I'll always have music.

ryan WHITE

Ryan White, symbol of justice
Or child of innocence, messenger of love
Where are you now, where have you gone?

Ryan White, I miss your sunny days
We carelessly frolicked in extended plays

I miss you, Ryan White
I miss your smile, innocent and bright
I miss your glory, I miss your light

Ryan White, symbol of contradiction
Child of Irony, or child of fiction?

I think of your shattered life
Of your struggle, of your strife

While ladies dance in the moonlit night
Champage parties on charted cruises
I see your wasted form, your ghostly sight
I feel your festering wounds, your battered bruises

Ryan White, symbol of agony and pain
Of ignorant fear gone insane
In a hysterical society
With free-floating anxiety
And feigned piety

I miss you, Ryan White
You showed us how to stand and fight
In the rain you were the cloudburst joy
The sparkle of hope in every girl and boy

In the depths of your anguished sorrow
Was the dream of another tomorrow.