Remembering the late Michael Jackson

Since the death of Michael Jackson last Thursday, I am surprised at the feelings that realization has evoked in me.  I was never really a very devoted fan although his music had an impact on my life for over four decades. Remembering him as a child star, it’s difficult to fathom that the 50-year-old man is now gone, and I find myself singing his songs in my head as I go about my day, and yearning for the next bit of news about what his life was really like. His melodic voice reverberates into my very soul and I find myself feeling compassionate and sympathetic toward his family, his children, and the doctor who cared for him during his last moments. I don’t know if we will ever know the whole truth of the enigma that was known as Michael Jackson, but on and off the yoga mat it’s been hard for me to think of anything else.  It makes you think hard about your own mortality.  It also makes you think about what made the man tick as you hear story after story in the media, wondering if this fact or that fact was actually true. All I know is that ten years ago, before I started practicing yoga, the death of Michael Jackson probably wouldn’t have evoked such strong emotions in me, because I was a little more hardened back then.  Yoga has softened me, and the tears come a lot easily now when I hear news of this magnitude about someone I never knew, but who was a part of my life just the same.