I suppose that right about now you are wondering why I would want to write a blog entry about going home. For some, that could be exactly what I am talking about… but the point I am going to try and make tonight is not about going anywhere but that place or places that makes you happy.

What makes you feel alive? What really holds meaning? What brings the smile or the tears of joy? What provides fulfillment and the AHA moments? What makes you live in the moment… without trying to?

This is your “place”.

Tonight I found myself in one of my places. I am delighted and grateful to say that I have many. So much of what this life has shown me along the path has provided joy and it is almost puzzling that I wouldn’t simply put myself into these moments and situations as often as possible.

Writing is one of my places. When I write I am thinking and solving. When I put pen to paper or fingers to keys I am escaping and creating. It is a tool for growth and I know that one of my favorite ways to maintain that fountain of youth is to continuing learning and changing.

Anyone who knows anything about me would know that the physical “place” for me would be London. I am drawn there. When I first landed I knew, somehow, that I had been there before. Each time I return I am comfortable and in each moment. I can walk for miles and there are places that just make me feel about as alive as I could possibly be. My spiritual center is halfway across the Waterloo Bridge.

Music is my place as well. Although there is music surrounding me all day long… from television jingles to car radios and shuffling ipods… there is no doubt that the music I speak of is playing in certain moods and at certain times. There is a type of “place” that music provides that can transform me completely and utterly, taking me to some of the most positive and elevated experiences within this mortal coil.

But tonight’s place… the one that inspired this entry… is dance. Although I am by no means old enough to not be able to dance myself… I speak primarily of watching. There are times that I will watch young dancers moving in ways that will literally bring me to tears. Although I don’t attempt to dissect the root causes of the emotion (beyond beauty and art I could venture the tinge of sadness that I am not an 18-year-old who can move like some of these people.)

Ok. I dissected.

Dance is beautiful. Because it is movement in so many different styles, expression of character and culture… and one of the most incredible ways to tell a story I am never disappointed to visit that place. Watching some people dance solo or in partnerships can mesmerize me. Tonight I was glued to a few different kids auditioning to a show that I enjoy here in the U.S. On more than one occasion tonight I found myself moved literally to the aforementioned tears.

Does that mean I don’t want to be in that place? Absolutely not. The tears are part of the experience of happiness and the happiness is what I pursue.

So I suppose that the point of this entire entry is very simple, indeed. When I am in the places where I wonder what it is all about… the fears, the doubts, the questions, the frustrations….

… I must simply remember to go to one of my “places”.

Be Happy. Be Well. Be.

It is always sad when the world loses major talent. It is magnified by the exposure of their art and lives in endless cycles on airwaves, internet and in some cases radio. I am always reflective when talent passes on. It is a reminder of the fleeting nature of our stay on the planet… but it is also sometimes a walk down your own memory lane.

In truth I have never been a huge Michael Jackson fan. I will not deny that there has been music in his library of many hits that I have enjoyed over the years… but for the most part I lean in other directions and found the artist himself a bit too eccentric for adulation.

But then there is the landscape of a lifetime. I am the same age as Michael and I grew up with him all around me. He is a part of who I am because he is a part of all of us. I cannot and will not deny the feeling of shock and loss today. It is surreal and it is sobering. It is a reminder of the frail nature of human beings and the sense of how little we really know about others, especially those who we learn all about through the media.

What strikes me as most revealing is the knowing that this man was (and will remain) world famous as an artist. There was money, riches… and a legacy of loneliness and naivete. The eccentricities and the troubles of his later life will always be a part of what we know Michael Jackson to be, but in the end it will always be the music that defines him.

But as I watched the endless barrage of clips and tributes today I could not help but to feel the eerie chill whenever the years that marked his life were on the screen. 1958-2009. That is my year of birth. It just felt surreal.

To those who mourn I join you. It is never anything but sad to see this sort of shift in the culture happen. To both Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett’s families I send my sincere condolences. The world has lost.

For those of us who remain….

Be Happy. Be Well. Be.