Michael Jackson's Influence Transcends the Grave: My Personal Story Revealed and Pitiful Men Who Can't Bear Goodness or Light. Part 1: Fathers, Sons, and Everyone Inherits a Laundry Room

This is a very personal tale, raw with unabashed emotion, yet comfortably humorous, often heart-warming, a story like many others that you will see yourself in, and yet a... More »

This is a very personal tale, raw with unabashed emotion, yet comfortably humorous, often heart-warming, a story like many others that you will see yourself in, and yet a story that is unlike any other and one that many will not believe could actually have happened in this modern era; or even in this century. I am laughing as I write this - But it is true. I am laughing because sometimes I myself cannot believe it, and my sisters and brothers, who lived much of it with me, share that feeling at times too.

It is rich in psychological drama of three generations, three men, and the unconscious, unwanted, but unavoidable inheritances we receive, father to son or mother to daughter, from one generation to the next -- the strange mixture of scars, which, tended to correctly, may show themselves to be blessings. If you're not getting a clue and getting turned off; you're probably way over your head already. Go back. Pass Go. Collect $200 and have fun with it. Bye.

Now for you, yea you. The one being here in all their physical presence and with all that swirling going around inside. You know who you are. Here you are, and I know exactly where that is, ha! Did you think I didn't know you are right smack dab in exactly the same Universe as me! (I woulda said Mind, but with all that swirling, I didn't know if you'd freak.) You, the physical one, with consciousness seeping out and mixing with the Ocean of Awareness, including my own. Nice to see you again. Anyway, you're here, bringing your world of contradictory feelings and confusions and pushes and pulls. I see ya.

Well, now that the "Republicans," for lack of a better word to explain the ones who actually see a benefit in that their souls have been stolen, are gone, I can speak more personally, if you're so inclined.

This story is told by me; and I am a person who has dedicated his life to self-discovery. I bet you don't know many people who have a B.A., literally, in "Self-Understanding" from an esteemed historical university (not some b.s. biblical or internet fantasy u). This won't be the first time that you'll think I'm kidding and I won't be. But to continue, I also facilitate deep experiential therapy, and have almost forty years experience of that kind of self-exploration. The fact that this audio and writing before you that I let come through me brightened my horizons even a little more is an example of how the richer one's self-awareness, the easier it is to reap even greater rewards of understanding.

To dispel some misnotions: This is not a tale of hate, resentment, or anger by any means. It was a story like that for many years. But the surprise is in the true fruits of experience that is honestly faced and followed to whatever wisdom it leads. And the place it leads is a gift. To myself. But I believe it is also a gift to the listener, a surprise one. One that is wrapped like a Christmas gift, the contents of which you can not even guess, which at the right time reveals itself to your delight and makes you happy you had to wait.

It is my story. It was triggered by my contemplation of Michael Jackson's life and three articles that I wrote about him, two alone, just since his release from his skin prison to return home to Life Itself.

Since it is my story, I will tell you only that you will find this fascinating, a delightful listen, and a heartbreaking, enlightening, and uplifting tale in the end. Or, especially if you are a Republican or otherwise not much into self-reflection, personal growth, or therapeutically inclined, you will hate yourself as well as me if you continue any further than this, and if you are still here, I don't know why, because you are probably already feeling irritated by my style. So go, because it will only get worse for you.

If you are of the introspective, existential, visionary, and dreamer camp; you will probably receive a personal gift for staying and listening; just as I did by "listening in" on Michael Jackson's life
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(cont'd from above) Another way of saying this is that a life that is openly and unashamedly shared, like Michael Jackson's was, is a gift to all that take it in. My story... More »

(cont'd from above) Another way of saying this is that a life that is openly and unashamedly shared, like Michael Jackson's was, is a gift to all that take it in. My story has that same unashamed quality of saying it exactly as it was to me, and so honestly that it has never been told this thoroughly and honestly before, as I never had been inspired to lay this part of it out this way before. In doing so I feel solid and rich; uncaring of the myriad feelings -- not all good -- that my authentic, unframed, "untagged" experiences will bring forth in others. For that which hasn't already been wrestled and forced beneath some ill-fitting "tag" is just a Rohrschak test for all who view it; and so what you see in me will likely be far more your own image than mine, just as I saw mine in Michael's.

But if you do not recognize that, hell, you may see your demon or angel or just about anything. If you are not very evolved, you may even blame that on me; again that is what happened to Michael Jackson for not staying in the jar and being happy just for getting -- whoop-de-do -- breathing holes!

For in living authentically, as Michael Jackson has demonstrated for us all one time again, like many authentic people in the past, in truly being yourself you will be more loved and more hated than if you take the safe route of hiding.
So listen to this or not; I've already received my blessings and my gifts out of this experience. They are there for you too, but it is all in you and up to you to reach for them, or not; and to decide if now, later, or not in this lifetime. All are correct decisions; there can be no wrong ones ever (only instructive or learning ones). Ain't life great! It's been nice swirling around for a spell in the consciousness soup with you. :-) Later!

QUOTES:
Underground mining was chosen by my father over going to high school. That tells you where he put the pleasures of his life at that time. In fact, he would not have graduated at all, except for an incident at the mines.

My father is the only person I know in the world -- and this is literally true -- who never SMILED...never smiled the entire time that I was growing up.

OK, coming down from sad insight epiphany of finally getting WHY my father had been so cruel at that moment, so unexpectedly cruel. Coming down enough to reveal what it was.

Remember how I was just saying above that unlike Michael Jackson who might bring up feelings of jealousy, or that people might have made the wrong choices in life, I probably brought up in my father the feeling of the "UNFAIRNESS" of his life.

Even my sense of humor -- boy, would we laugh and have fun among my brothers and sisters...
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We'd be sitting around in the evening watching the TV.... And -- one of those happy times for us -- we'd watch the show and we'd be cracking up. Who? Well, me of course. My mother, ALWAYS, too; she had a great sense of humor. My sister almost always would be there, too, and laughing so hard.... And my older sister, Mary Ann, why she'd be just as much in hysterics.... We would be light-hearted, happy, laughing, grateful for the gift of this comedian and the temporary lifting of the ordinary drudgery and darkness or meanness of our lives that this comedian was providing.

Then, from the corner seat, my Dad, bowl of ice cream in his lap, and making his way methodically through it, smack in the middle of an uproar of our hilarity:

"That SHIT!" -- like a bowling ball at us, right down the center of the alley....STRIKE! All pins of mirth down. That's 10 for starters, for you, Dad, and you've still got another roll.

"That's STUPID!"

OK, Dad, you're really on a roll. That's another strike. 10 pins of mirth still down. Geez, Dad, it's only the first frame, and you're already bowling 20 plus the next two rolls in the next frame.

Uh, oh, the show continues, and we just can't help ourselves because this routine on TV we've seen many times; and it's always a riot. Oh, my God, yes, this time it is too. It's funny, yes; oh the faces he makes; he's a freaking genius of expression, no doubt, making us roar just with those incredible larger than life ways he's able to move his rubbery face, saying with each expression more than a thousand words could. We're cracking up, but then he's also making us a little sad. It's the tramp routine, and you know the guy is lonely and sad, but he's trying to be "above" it and to actually still be giving to others, or to poor hurt birdies in this park....

So we're laughing, and then we're feeling sad, a tear comes to my eye, for sure, and I feel a welling up in my chest. There's such a beauty in people, even when they're down and out. Yea, he's telling the truth about people in this skit; he's making us aware not to judge people on the clothes they wear or the money in their bank account, but on their heart. It's perfect; pure genius. And he's a beautiful person too; so gentle and caring… and funny" is all going through me, welling up about the beautiful poingnancy, and also the sad tragedy, of life…tear beginning its journey down the cheek....

"What a DAMN IDIOT!"

"Wow, I didn't even realize it was your turn to roll already, Dad. Geez, Dad, you're good at this. I mean all the mirth pins are down…let's see, that's ten; but then -- don't know how you did it on one roll but -- you got the poignancy pins -- ALL OF THEM, WOW! -- down the lane over. But, Dad, gotta give you credit, you've got to be the genius of Spoiler Bowl. You should really think of going Pro. I mean, you've even got another ten for all ten existential connection pins in the lane on the other side!!! I mean there ain't no happy or insightful or feeling pins left in this whole place; and you've captured more grumpy points, meanness points, think you even got hate points too, this time, Dad…or at least you've got a good shot at them"

"THAT'S SILLY!"

"Wow, Dad, you're on a roll for sure. You may just be the first person to eliminate good-hearted pins in the future!"

"Who the hell does that panzy, Skelton, think he is! Stupid faggot. Oh, he's so sweet (said sarcastically), helping a little birdie in a park… THAT'S RIDICULOUS"

"You sure don't need no help from me, Dad. I think you've eliminated mirth, clear through into the next decade. Don't know why they don't just cede the Spoiler Bowl crown to you right now."

"Well, Dad, there's no game left. You won and everybody's left. No pins stand anywhere here and into the future. In fact, you, once again, have beaten all possible records and have eliminated all good-hearted feeling right through into the future, all the way out to November of the year 2000. I gotta feeling with your total elimination of the mirth and existential awareness pins and your build up of the mean-spirited and grumpy awards out to 2000, that you've probably caused, just tonight alone, the election of the most insensitive, perhaps worst President in history, with all the grumply and mean-spirited prevailing and the hope and good-heartednes eliminated. That's practically unbeatable. But then it always seems that way.

Next time, you'll probably outdo yourself; you always do. It's always a real spectacle with you, Dad. I wouldn't be surprised next time you set off getting Santa Claus shot down out of the sky on Christmas Eve. You're something else, Dad."
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