Whitney Houston dies at age 48. I read this on the Internet. Without further inquiring into the specifics and further speculation, this, is what I have to say…
I will not be watching any of it, and to the best of my ability I will avoid the media frenzy because I know what happened, I know what “they” will say, it won’t be new, and truly Whitney; “There is nothing new under the Sun, only that which has been forgotten”…our minds, our short-term memory minds, minds that judge and accuse with a sick voyeuristic appetite for the pain of others isn’t news.
Whitney Houston needs no introduction, her voice was something out of this world, I reckon, the way Angels sound. A singer, an actor, a true artist, to the core; pain and suffering included but not limited. That she has struggled we all knew. That we used that information as entertainment is a fact, a very unfortunate one.
I’m sure the news sources are covering her “struggles” with cocaine, crack, remembering the infamous “crack is whack” quote that she once said in an interview, maybe someone could have instead shared some love; in recognition of one’s own suffering heart revealed in someone else’s pain.
What did that quote do, to add anything positive to this World? Will any of the coverage of her death truly reveal that the issue at hand was not drugs or alcohol? The true issue was love, it always has been, the lack thereof.
It is an abomination of the sickness of mankind, man…very unkind. For there is another side to that coin, that if we did indeed see that unfold right in front of our eyes, it was also our very responsibility to make that stop, to undo that pain, to fix, to love a real human being, to “NOT” watch it as if it were a fictional character on a movie that we can all walk away from. As much as an Artist as she was, as Angelic as her voice sounded, she was human, all too human, and she never needed adoration, she was in need of love.
I have never met her personally, but we have been alone together for a while, and there is no eloquent way to say this; to be alone? It sucks! It pains, and, it’s freaking miserable.
I know there will be tweets, and, interviews and blah, blah, blah,…nothing matters now. Whitney is dead, and there is no coming back from that.
I have toyed with the idea of not living. I have felt so very alone in this lifetime, and while I know nothing about the specifics of her death, I never saw an abundance of love surround her, and without love Whitney, I know, this life isn’t worth living.
How?
I know Whitney how…it happened slowly the first time your actions became the actions of a soul in need of love. It happened when your crazy erratic behavior could entertain the sad desire to watch our own in demise.
The world stands together in victory, we all fall together in failure. We have not transcended spiritually if one soul remains in solitude.
Had we acknowledged our own divinity in your heart Whitney, had we embraced all of you, not just your voice, for your voice, as angelic as it sounded, was only a glimpse into your soul, maybe then, your departure would have not been untimely and it would have been peaceful; for it is only when we love fully, when we give ourselves fully that there is no pain, no sadness and therefore, no regrets.
We are such an unkind species of unlovable creatures that feast on each others’ pain, and never stop just for a second, forgetting our meaningless jobs, forgetting to spectate and instead to act, to do something real, to create and manifest love and change, to not look back anymore, but to embrace you, me, now, all, us, who we are, the frailty in our hearts; because we lack that thing that makes us live, that Whitney, which is love.
May this not be it.
Almudena.
