“If you don’t feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then probably what you are doing isn’t very vital.”—John Irving (via thoughtsdetained) (via finallyseeing)
Well, there’s a certain sense that animals and children have that gives me a certain creative juice, a certain force that later on in adulthood is kind of lost because of the conditioning that happens in the world. A great poet said once, “When I see children, I see that God has not given up on man.” An Indian poet from India said that, and his name is Tagore. The innocence of children represents to me the source of infinite creativity. That is the potential of every human being. But by the time you are an adult, you’re conditioned: you’re so conditioned by the things about you — and it goes.
Love. Children are loving: they don’t gossip, they don’t complain, they’re just open-hearted. They’re ready for you. They don’t judge. They don’t see things by way of color. They’re very childlike. That’s the problem with adults; they lose that childlike quality. And that’s the level of inspiration that’s so needed and is so important for creating and writing songs and for a sculptor, a poet or a novelist. It’s that same kind of innocence, that same level of consciousness, that you create from. And kids have it. I feel it right away from animals and children and nature.
“I sometimes ask myself how it came about that I was the one to develop the theory of relativity. The reason, I think, is that a normal adult never stops to think about problems of space and time. These are things which he has thought about as a child.”—Albert Einstein (via reluctantbuddha)
“To speak truly, few adult persons can see nature. Most persons do not see the sun. At least they have a very superficial seeing. The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shines into the eye and heart of the child.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson (via reluctantbuddha)
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?”
-from Dancing The Dream by Michael Jackson (published 1992)
“I love to read. I wish I could advise more people to read. There’s a whole other world in books. If you can’t afford to travel, you travel mentally through reading. You can see anything and go anyplace you want [by] reading.”—Michael Jackson to Ebony Magazine in December 1984
“What I’m asking is whether this is still a country where a peculiar person such as Michael Jackson can get a fair shake and be considered innocent until proven guilty … or is this just a 21st-century American barnyard where we all feel free to turn on the moonwalking rooster … and peck it to death?”—Stephen King, Feb 2004 (via 45degreelean)
“I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really.”—
Beguiling as those comparisons are between the extraterrestrial and Michael, the earthly, slightly spacey superstar, what may be most pertinently recalled about E.T. is the way in which the family’s house was suddenly closed by outside forces, turned from a home into a hermetically sealed fortress. Spielberg talks about the “rage” he senses when he watches Jackson in concert, and the impression of angry release. Jackson, in front of an audience, is like a projectile—alive, explosive—that always returns, charge intact, to the chamber from which it was fired.
Jackson’s whole existence is lined with insulation. His friends, many of whom are famous, help him keep life at bay and illusion near at hand: their celebrity, which complements his, also helps cast his everyday life with the living embodiments of public fantasy. “We might think his bubble world is fantastical,” says one of his most sympathetic pals. “But to him it’s very real. My only fear is that he’ll step out and become like everybody else. He is too special the way he is. He is not immune. If he steps out of that world, it might be his last time.”
Still, even a fan like Amy Gancherov, 13, of nearby Sherman Oaks, can sometimes notice, as she catches a phantom glimpse of Jackson, that “he looks so sad.” She thinks the reason may be that “everybody is always shoving things in his face.” Occasionally Jackson comes out to the yard. Sometimes he will ride a red-and-white motor scooter. Sometimes he will take his electric car for a spin. It is a close copy of a vehicle from Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland. Outside the iron gates, the fans on the street can see him whizzing along the driveway, playing by himself, and at those times, he is too far away for anyone to see his face at all.
“In some ways Michael reminds me of the walking wounded. He’s an extremely fragile person. I think that just getting on with life, making contact with people, is hard enough, much less to be worried about whither goest the world.”—Jane Fonda on Michael Jackson (via 45degreelean)
"The first time I saw E.T., I melted through the whole thing,” Michael says. “The second time, I cried like crazy. And then, in doing the narration, I felt like I was there with them, like behind a tree or something, watching everything that happened.”
So great was Michael’s emotional involvement that Steven Spielberg found his narrator crying in the darkened studio when he got to the part where E.T. is dying. Finally, Spielberg and producer Quincy Jones decided to run with it and let Michael’s voice break. Fighting those feelings would be counterproductive — something Jones had already learned while producing Off the Wall.
"I had a song I’d been saving for Michael called "She’s Out of My Life," he remembers. "Michael heard it, and it clicked. But when he sang it, he would cry. Every time we did it, I’d look up at the end and Michael would be crying. I said, ‘We’ll come back in two weeks and do it again, and maybe it won’t tear you up so much. ‘Came back and he started to get teary. So we left it in."
This tug of war between the controlled professional and the vulnerable, private Michael surfaces in the lyrics he has written for himself. In “Bless His Soul,” a song on the Jacksons’ Destiny LP that Michael says is definitely about him, he sings: