I woke up this morning wondering about how stars die.
On a website called 'Skywatch", I found the following information:
"Before understanding how stars die, we first have to understand what they are, and how do they live...
Eventually, all the star’s fuel is exhausted, and it starts to contract.
Remember, it was the pressure created by nuclear fusion that prevented gravity from shrinking the star. Once the fusion has stopped, gravity takes over..."
~Ed Ehrlich
A few years ago, I wrote a poem, and it, too, was on my mind this morning.
STARS
"And the stars
Shall withdraw their shining
Not burn out.
Not malfunction.
Not be extinguished.
Not fade.
Just take their radiance away
On purpose.
Did things get too heavy?
Perhaps, they were too hot.
Were they too old?
Did they get weary?
Did they change their minds?
Did they lose their reason to shine?
Deep down, are they no different than me?
What can so impact a star
That it will cease to be?
Can a star stop shining
And still be a star?"
I listened to the very respectful Don Lemon, and other contributors to CNN's coverage of the death of Whitney Houston, until my eyes were burning.
I had no choice but to drag myself to bed.
It’s funny how the death of a stranger can make you feel as if you've lost a member of your own family.
You wonder what you could have said or done.
You thank God you have the capacity to feel sympathy for someone you don't even know.
I told my sister that I was so glad we were together, because I knew she would understand how the news impacted me. Neither of us knew Whitney Houston, but as a singer, and a 60's baby, her music was the stuff of my 20's and 30's and 40's.
I was so hopeful that it would continue into my 50's and beyond.
I never watched her infamous reality show.
I didn't want to get wrapped up in her court TV drama. I didn't want to see photos or videos, that captured her in an embarrassing, less than glamorous light.
I just wanted to remember the purity of her voice, and the joy that singing seemed to bring her.
The photos gracing her newest project, are beautiful.
I remember how I rooted for her in my head.
Now she's dead, and I suppose I, too, want the blame to make its rounds, and visit everything and everyone responsible for silencing her.
Now, a daughter has to continue on without her mother. A mother, family, and friends have to go on without their loved one. A world has been deprived of one of its most beloved voices.
I was choked up so long, I do believe I cried in my sleep. You can always tell, the minute you wake up, and take a deep breath.
I remember when Richard got the call about the inclusion of his composition, “I Love The Lord” in the film, "The Preacher's Wife".
We were all so excited.
"Vision" attended the movie premier at a theater in NW DC, and performed for the audience what, we'd learned was, Whitney's favorite gospel song.
When the film ended, and others headed for the exits, we remained in our seats, anxiously watching the credits roll. We were waiting to see the words "I LOVE THE LORD" composed by Richard L. Smallwood".
When his name appeared, we clapped and cheered for him.
Whitney had done a wonderful job covering the song we'd all loved for years (that was beautifully sung and recorded by Dottie Jones).
It felt like we knew Whitney, and she'd honored one of our own. What we actually knew and admired, was her body of musical work.
Last night I wondered just how much the work impacted her body.
Every time someone said, "The show must go on", I felt angry and conflicted.
I'm not sure how "The Show" has so soundly convinced the people ON stage, that they need IT more than IT needs them.
Is it because there are so many hungry, replacement, wannabe stars, who still have lots of fuel, and are willing to take a chance at burning out, just to get an opportunity to shine?
Perhaps it's time for a serious, thorough overhaul in certain arenas and industries, that will render them more kind, supportive, and thoughtful to the humanity of those whose talents fuel them.
Where is all of the pressure, stress, and danger coming from, when all someone wants to do is share their talent?
Is the negativity internal, or is it exacerbated by all of the external, greedy forces that seek to profit?
How does what you love to do, become secondary to the agendas and demands of others who often forget that you are a human being?
Perhaps individuals should decide just how badly they want notoriety, and whether or not they really need the services, or company of certain people.
Maybe it's time to evaluate whether or not everything that is hyped as necessary parts of the territory, or the game, is really just a bunch of crap.
In actuality, some things that people insist you must do to "make it" or get "there", are detrimental to you as a person, AND a performer.
After all, when it's time TO perform--when it's time to do that thing (that you love so much, that you would do it for free)--don't you want to be ABLE to? Wouldn't you want to do it WELL--the way you used to, when no one knew your name?
Some people love WHAT you do, every time you do it, no matter what toll it takes on you TO do it, but they don't love YOU.
They prove it by the demands they make.
Say "No" for the first time, and see what happens.
Every now and then, the show must NOT go on, and people will just have to get the heck over it.
Let them buy and listen to the record, watch the DVD, or read the book.
But then, that IS what we do, isn't it?
We fatten the pockets of those who invest in, steal from, and deceive stars, but watch silently or judgmentally as the stars burn out.
We keep silent as opportunistic, dishonest people take full credit for what God has given, and make talented people feel as if they were nothing, and would never have amounted to anything worthwhile without them.
When a star dies, it never fails. The monetary value of their life's work goes up, and someone else benefits from it--sometimes for more years than the star was even alive.
We express our sadness, recover from our grief, confirm our theories and suspicions, and reminisce about the days when they shined the very brightest, while an artificial spotlight is shined on the worst chapters of their lives.
People have such simple, pure wishes; such humble beginnings. What happens?
Something is so wrong with it all.
When does the joy turn to misery?
When my older sister purchased a new desktop computer, she sang its praises in her very left-brained way, and allowed me to try my hand at it. Through trial and error, and assured that I wouldn't break anything, I stumbled upon an accessory labeled "Paint". 
When my older sister purchased a new desktop computer, she sang its praises in her very left-brained way, and allowed me to try my hand at it. Through trial and error, and assured that I wouldn't break anything, I stumbled upon an accessory labeled "Paint". 
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