Tues 7: Somewhat ghoulishly, I `enjoy´ funerals. That sense of the soul returning home is so strong, I almost feel jealous. It helps of course if the service is of the spiritual contemplative variety, with sacred music. (A friend had Dancing Queen as part of hers, which I found rather shocking.)
So it was a given that I would watch the Michael Jackson memorial service.
In all honesty, I found it a bit too long. And, while it was moving in parts, there were quite a few squirmy moments, so tears pricked (as when Stevie Wonder first spoke, and then started singing `I never thought you´d leave in summer…´…. then stopped, as he sang rather over loudly (as did most of them.)
Small wonder his mother apparently wanted a private religious ceremony beforehand. However, the eulogies were important, not just for closure for his fans.
There has been a barrage of negative press over the years, and much of the good he did has been forgotten. This at least gave some prominence to his humanitarian works (the Guinness Book of Records had him down as supporting more charities than any other entertainer).
It also gave a platform for his friends to try to redress the balance, and even his young daughter appeared to look like she too needed to right a wrong… although, bless her, emotion got the better of her. Indeed, in a photo showing her without her mask, I got the impression then that she wanted to have her say. No doubt that will come in time.
RIP Michael Jackson - I still believe your intentions were innocent and hopefully that too will be righted in time.
PS Why do some people chew gum even during solemn occasions? I suppose it is forgivable with Jackson´s elder son as it may have eased any tension. The little one was utterly charming though. Praise to all three that they took to the stage with the family at the end. Must all have showbiz in the blood through morphic resonance.
PPS On the me front, it was a bit of a challenging day. Need for results - obvious manifestation - is poor faith. But then, as I nag the Almighty - how long, O Lord, how long?
PPPS Got bored with the life class. Mark you, the artist, whose name escapes me, rabbited on about the 
difficulty in getting dimensions and likeness accurate - and then showed his work as a few brown splodges of paint, which even the kindest critic would say bore no physical likeness to the model. At least mine aims to considering the difficulty in using a model on the TV - and the camera jumping from artist to model to ad break.
Euphrosene Labon Mind Body Spirit Artist Author Writer
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