Michael Jackson will be remembered, most likely, as a shattered icon, a pop genius who wound up a mutant of fame. That's not who I will remember, however. His mixture of mystery, isolation, indulgence, overwhelming global fame, and personal loneliness was intimately known to me. For twenty years I observed every aspect, and as easy as it was to love Michael -- and to want to protect him -- his sudden death yesterday seemed almost fated.
Two days previously he had called me in an upbeat, excited mood. The voice message said, "I've got some really good news to share with you." He was writing a song about the environment, and he wanted me to help informally with the lyrics, as we had done several times before. When I tried to return his call, however, the number was disconnected. (Terminally spooked by his treatment in the press, he changed his phone number often.) So I never got to talk to him, and the music demo he sent me lies on my bedside table as a poignant symbol of an unfinished life.
When we first met, around 1988, I was struck by the combination of charisma and woundedness that surrounded Michael. He would be swarmed by crowds at an airport, perform an exhausting show for three hours, and then sit backstage afterward, as we did one night in Bucharest, drinking bottled water, glancing over some Sufi poetry as I walked into the room, and wanting to meditate.
That person, whom I considered (at the risk of ridicule) very pure, still survived -- he was reading the poems of Rabindranath Tagore when we talked the last time, two weeks ago. Michael exemplified the paradox of many famous performers, being essentially shy, an introvert who would come to my house and spend most of the evening sitting by himself in a corner with his small children. I never saw less than a loving father when they were together (and wonder now, as anyone close to him would, what will happen to them in the aftermath).
Michael's reluctance to grow up was another part of the paradox. My children adored him, and in return he responded in a childlike way. He declared often, as former child stars do, that he was robbed of his childhood. Considering the monstrously exaggerated value our society places on celebrity, which was showered on Michael without stint, the public was callous to his very real personal pain. It became another tawdry piece of the tabloid Jacko, pictured as a weird changeling and as something far more sinister.
It's not my place to comment on the troubles Michael fell heir to from the past and then amplified by his misguided choices in life. He was surrounded by enablers, including a shameful plethora of M.D.s in Los Angeles and elsewhere who supplied him with prescription drugs. As many times as he would candidly confess that he had a problem, the conversation always ended with a deflection and denial. As I write this paragraph, the reports of drug abuse are spreading across the cable news channels. The instant I heard of his death this afternoon, I had a sinking feeling that prescription drugs would play a key part.
The closest we ever became, perhaps, was when Michael needed a book to sell primarily as a concert souvenir. It would contain pictures for his fans but there would also be a text consisting of short fables. I sat with him for hours while he dreamily wove Aesop-like tales about animals, mixed with words about music and his love of all things musical. This project became Dancing the Dream after I pulled the text together for him, acting strictly as a friend. It was this time together that convinced me of the modus vivendi Michael had devised for himself: to counter the tidal wave of stress that accompanies mega-stardom, he built a private retreat in a fantasy world where pink clouds veiled inner anguish and Peter Pan was a hero, not a pathology.
This compromise with reality gradually became unsustainable. He went to strange lengths to preserve it. Unbounded privilege became another toxic force in his undoing. What began as idiosyncrasy, shyness, and vulnerability was ravaged by obsessions over health, paranoia over security, and an isolation that grew more and more unhealthy. When Michael passed me the music for that last song, the one sitting by my bedside waiting for the right words, the procedure for getting the CD to me rivaled a CIA covert operation in its secrecy.
My memory of Michael Jackson will be as complex and confused as anyone's. His closest friends will close ranks and try to do everything in their power to insure that the good lives after him. Will we be successful in rescuing him after so many years of media distortion? No one can say. I only wanted to put some details on the record in his behalf. My son Gotham traveled with Michael as a roadie on his "Dangerous" tour when he was seventeen. Will it matter that Michael behaved with discipline and impeccable manners around my son? (It sends a shiver to recall something he told Gotham: "I don't want to go out like Marlon Brando. I want to go out like Elvis." Both icons were obsessions of this icon.)
His children's nanny and surrogate mother, Grace Rwaramba , is like another daughter to me. I introduced her to Michael when she was eighteen, a beautiful, heartwarming girl from Rwanda who is now grown up. She kept an eye on him for me and would call me whenever he was down or running too close to the edge. How heartbreaking for Grace that no one's protective instincts and genuine love could avert this tragic day. An hour ago she was sobbing on the telephone from London. As a result, I couldn't help but write this brief remembrance in sadness. But when the shock subsides and a thousand public voices recount Michael's brilliant, joyous, embattled, enigmatic, bizarre trajectory, I hope the word "joyous" is the one that will rise from the ashes and shine as he once did.
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Deepak_Chopra
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I hope you will choose to share more memories of Michael with us. It lets us all feel a little closer to the man we may have not gotten to meet in real life; but still feel like we DID know him. Thanks for posting, please post more. I pray for his kids well being.
Since Michael Jackson passed away, it has taken me some time to be able to come to terms with his passing. I have idolized him since childhood. My younger sister and I just absolutely adored him. He was so remarkably talented, so loving, so giving, so inspiring, and most of all a true genius. He tried so hard to change the world through his music but it is evident it has been ignored (some people just don’t get it). What this man tried to do to change this cruel world is remarkable
What a beautiful and blessed soul taken from us way too soon!
Michael, I love you, respect you and I really appreciate everything you tried to do through your music and your loving and giving heart. And yes, I get it and I pray that when people really truly listen to what you are trying to say through your music, they will get message too. What a beautiful world this will be when that happens!
I will always remember the good you gave too so many. Rest in peace knowing that you are and will always be loved and remembered by so many. The world will miss you so very much!
My heart is broken into a million pieces
Mary Roberson, Roanoke, VA
The death of Michael Jackson documented an ever expanding reality that gives me great pain: some doctors will do anything for the pursuit of money, even at the expense of human life.
During the course of my medical career, I have witnessed and have had to report colleagues who have crossed the line for the sake of their bank accounts. The colleague who supplied his cocaine habit by doing unnecessar
The seduction of money comes with a heavy price. Just ask Michael Millikan, Ivan Boesky, or perhaps, the clients of Bernie Madoff. Dr. Deepak Chopra had the courage to say no to Michael Jackson, despite his celebrity. I only wish more of my colleagues would have the decency to do the same.
Thank you for being Michael's true friend. Very hard to come by in this world.
His life was full of remarkable gifts he left for all of us to enjoy and I can only wonder
what more he could have accomplish
Peace.
I read your tribute of Michael Jackson and found it informativ
From the moment I heard of Michael’s passing, I have wondered why people with a perspectiv
In my very humble opinion, all.
As a friend of Michael’s who had him as a guest in your home and was regularly informed regarding his weakening mental/phy
It seems that MJ was beyond redemption
I am curious as to why Michael's Doctor took it upon himself to act as a parent or family member to Michael's small children, who were protected by Michael. Why would a Doctor take it upon himself and announce to Michael's small children that their father had died and then take it upon himself to allow Michael’s small children to view their father after he had passed. The Jackson family should've been consulted. Anyone with the slightest ability for reasoning would know that such an act was completely out of the his role as a doctor. Which leads me to wonder about his abilities as a doctor.
Peace Michael, peace.
http://bit
It explains Michael's strange looks, his Lupus and skin condition. Really well done. Also explains how painful his condition was.
I am just one of 4 generation
I've always wondered how someone so gentle and shy could perform so brilliant in front of billions. He was and will forever be the most amazing person I've ever seen.
Gone too soon... but the KING OF POP will never be forgotten.
My heart goes out to his kids, his family, his friends, and all his fans around the world.
Rest in peace Michael.
Also, it seems obvious that his family weren't always his best friends. And MJ embraced fame in a sick way sometimes. He might have just focused on the music instead of the madness. At times, he seemed to encourage the worst of it.
The tabloids (and so-called reputable media houses) were already calling him "Wacko Jacko", and if they had found out that he had a therapist, they would have had a field day FABRICATIN