“Whitney Houston dies at age 48.”
I read this on the Internet. I saw this on TV. I read this in the papers. So did you.
I didn’t watch any of the coverage. To the best of my ability, I avoided the media frenzy…because I know what happened.
And I knew what “they” would say, it wasn’t new, it wasn’t true.
There is nothing new under the Sun, only that which has been forgotten.
Our short-term memory minds love to judge and accuse with a voyeuristic appetite for the pain of others.
Whitney Houston needs no introduction. Her voice was something perfect, the way, I reckon, “angels sound.” That she has struggled, we all knew. That we treated that knowledge as entertainment is a fact, and an unfortunate one.
The news covered her struggles with addiction—reminding us of her infamous “crack is whack” quote. The news didn’t share a recognition that we all suffer, that in Whitney’s pain some of us saw our own suffering heart, revealed.
Will any of the coverage of her death truly reveal that the issue at hand was not drugs or alcohol? That the true issue was love, and the lack thereof?
It is a failure of our society. It is our responsibility to help, to undo pain, to love, to not watch people as if they were fictional characters in a movie that we can all walk away from. As much as her voice sounded angelic, she was all too human. And she didn’t need our casual adoration, she needed simple love.
I never met her personally. But we have been alone together for many years, and there is no eloquent way to say this: it sucks to be alone! It hurts, and it is freaking miserable.
I have toyed with the idea of not living. I have felt so very alone in this lifetime, and while I know nothing about Whitney’s death, I never saw love surround her—and without love, Whitney, I know, this life is not worth living.
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 connection to your heart, Whitney, had we embraced all of you, not just your voice and beauty—maybe then your departure would have not been so untimely. For it is only when we love fully, when we give ourselves fully that there are no regrets.
We are better than an unkind species of unlovable creatures who feast on each others’ pain. We can stop, if only for a second, and forget our busy jobs, stop being spectators and do something real. We can create and manifest love. We can change. We can embrace you, me, now, all, the frailty in our hearts; because we do have that thing that makes us live—we do love.
Editor: Kate Bartolotta
Almudena Alcazar is an actor, producer and writer. She was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and has traveled and lived throughout the world. After attending many a school but never graduating from any of them, she has studied law, philosophy, political science and art history. She continues to pursue her studies in motherhood, love, relationships, humanities, veganism, yoga and hopeful spiritual transcendence at the Université de C’est la Vie, School of You Better get Used to it… Find your Happiness Within. Passionate daily Ashtanga practitioner and thrice a week instructor.
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