Michael Jackson Years (1987-1993)

The experience of being a Michael Jackson fan around the time of the Velvet Revolution changed my life and, by ripple effect, changed the lives of many others. It still echoes through all my work.

Listening to Smuggled Tapes

My First Novel (1988-1989)

I wrote my first novel, at least in terms of scope, when I was fifteen years old, and of course it was about Michael Jackson. A story of an adoring fan meeting her idol. But rather than diving into romance, it became more of a spiritual journey. It wasn’t my dream to date Michael. I imagined giving him a taste of normalcy, helping him transform from the eccentric star he was into someone less shy and isolated. Looking back now, I only wish he had actually met someone who could do that for him in real life.

I had written stories before, including one inspired by the movie Amadeus, an obsession before Michael. Mozart was another misunderstood musical prodigy. Being an isolated teenager in a communist country, I knew I might never get the chance to see the film again, so I wrote it all down. But the Michael novel caught my friends’ attention in a different way. There were times when they literally sat beside me, waiting for the next page. It was an amazing creative experience, even if the whole novel was just a dozen notebooks written in pencil.

So, thank you, Michael, for launching my writing career.

Absorbing the Philosophy

My most formative years took place in an atmosphere of newfound freedom, exhilaration, and chaos. The country was free from the dogma of communism, but not from its physical remnants. We could suddenly travel abroad, but we were still too poor to do it. People were excited about new possibilities, yet also lost, naive, clueless, and terrified of how they would survive in the new capitalist environment.

Somewhere in this turmoil, I found kindred spirits who saw what I saw, not just Michael’s music, but the message behind it. Knowing what I know now about neuroscience and brain programming, I realize that endlessly repeating the mantras encoded in Michael Jackson’s music helped build my spiritual core. I would write his lyrics on pieces of paper, roll them up, and wear them around my neck in a little pouch so I could reread them in difficult moments.

Given the spiritual void left after Communism, which had destroyed traditional religion and failed to replace it with anything meaningful, I suddenly found myself immersed in messages of healing the world, hope, and togetherness, spread by a man who actually traveled around the world bringing people together.

I’m starting with the man in the mirror / I’m asking him to change his ways / And no message could have been any clearer / If you wanna make the world a better place / Take a look at yourself and then make a change

And so I did. I took it to heart. I didn’t just believe it, I started doing it. And I still do.

So, thank you, Michael, for being my spiritual guide, as odd as it may be.

Encountering Health-Impaired Friends

After a while, my closest group of friends crystallized into a parta (a crew, a gang, in the best sense of the word). It soon began including a bunch of kids from the Jedlička Institute, a facility for health-impaired children and teenagers, many of them wheelchair users.

The Communist regime had essentially put these people behind institutional walls since childhood. It was completely normal for an adult to have never met anyone with a disability before. There was no wheelchair access to public transport or buildings. Stairs everywhere. Stares everywhere. Awkwardness. Glancing away.

To a group of Michael Jackson fans, helping the less fortunate simply felt like part of the worldview, and I can’t even say we saw it as “help” or “charity.” Our friends were a total riot. Who wouldn’t want to go to the cinema with them? To hell with the stairs.

We began getting them out, ignoring the post-communist reality around us. Everyone in our group was creative, fun, open-minded, and courageous. To this day, I have no idea what stars had to align to bring such a diverse and wild group together.

So, thank you, Michael, for bringing the right people into my life.

The Dangerous Tour

In 1992, when Michael Jackson came to Europe with his Dangerous Tour, Prague wasn’t on the list. At the time, I didn’t know anyone with a car who would be willing to drive me to a concert in Germany or Austria. I wasn’t the only one. So, I solved the problem by scaling up and organized a bus trip for around forty fans.

I wasn’t even eighteen years old, so we wisely brought a couple of supervising adults with us. I found a willing travel agency, collected money from each person, and physically carried it all to the bank. Then we prayed for an envelope with forty tickets to arrive. A miracle. And so, on August 8, 1992, our busload of Czechs joined forty-two thousand Germans in Bremen, 766 kilometers from Prague. Another miracle.

By all means, it was a dangerous tour. We could easily have been scammed out of our money, which was not uncommon in the “Wild East” back then. The tickets could have vanished in the notoriously unreliable mail. Someone could have been hurt or lost during the concert. But we somehow managed to collect everyone, including those who fainted, and got them safely home. A miracle. Besides completing my personal quest, I learned the power of pooling resources and sharing an effort.

So, thank you, Michael, for teaching me that when I can’t achieve something alone, I can always scale up.

The Documentary

This unusual group of fans eventually caught the attention of two prominent Czech documentary filmmakers, Olga Sommerová and Jan Špáta. Olga’s son Jakub was one of the creative masterminds behind our “gang”, and they suddenly realized that one of the most interesting stories was unfolding right under their noses. And so, my friends and I found ourselves being interviewed on camera about our views, hopes, and dreams, all full of teenage vigor.

But I still remember a moment when the camera turned off after one interview, and someone from the crew remarked, “Wow… I wish I had my worldview figured out this clearly.” That kind of validation from an adult, especially a seasoned creative professional, mattered.

We truly believed in what may have sounded like naive philosophies. What people didn’t understand was that we meant every word, and we already had a taste of doing the impossible by the time we were seventeen or eighteen. Shortly after the documentary was aired, we all took off in different directions, doing professional creative work, building businesses, teaching, and founding non-profits.

I also gained an early mentor in Jan Špáta. I knew him before the documentary, and we stayed in touch occasionally afterward. He was the first creative professional who truly took me seriously and believed in my talent.

At the time, he was teaching documentary filmmaking at our main film school. Once, in a letter, he wrote, “I wish I had students like you.” That shook me to the core. Until then, I saw my creative side as something to play with, not something to study or pursue professionally. I never took him up on it, but his validation boosted my self-esteem. Sometimes a single sentence can change one’s life.

So, thank you, Michael, for bringing true cheerleaders into my life.

The Echoes of Michael Jackson

When I look at my later life and work, the echoes of my Michael Jackson era are still clearly visible, even though I can go months without thinking about him. Then I’ll hear one of his songs playing in a shopping mall and get a small reminder.

• Being part of the first wave of Czechs who spoke fluent English, I spent much of my adult life in Prague’s expat community, meeting people from around the world, including my husband. It brought me friendships, jobs, and career opportunities.
• Helping Paws was founded because our dog’s breeder Hana knew I had health-impaired friends and called me. Michael was a great lover of animals, so somehow that made sense too.
• My own artistic pursuits were fueled by the validation of friends who made it feel normal to be quirky, creative, and original.
• Michael once mentioned in his autobiography that he admired Michelangelo. He was a multitalented Renaissance man himself, so it made sense that he would be drawn to another multitalented genius of the past. That rang a bell in more ways than one, and I spent decades researching Michelangelo and the Renaissance for one of my book projects and currently help multitalented people handle their potential.
• Even becoming a freelancer rather than an employee was shaped by the fact that Michael had a strong entrepreneurial side and understood how to blend creativity, business, and spirituality. He wasn’t a rebel outside the system or a guru on top of a mountain. He was a businessman as much as an entertainer.

All of that quietly influenced countless decisions in my own life because, in my mind, he normalized big thinking, dreams, and personal quests. That mattered in a culture where ambition was often discouraged and stepping out of line could be outright dangerous.

Shooting for the Stars

As a teenager, I had a quote from his autobiography pinned on my wall: “I like to achieve goals.” That may sound simple, but in my world it felt revolutionary. He taught me to see problems as challenges, not obstacles. He taught me to unashamedly shoot for the stars and, of all else fails, doing the moonwalk backward on the Moon.

Of course, I later outgrew his music and shifted to other artists. I could write an article just as long and deep about the role Prince and Janet Jackson played in my development as a woman, in claiming my sensuality. We could talk about the links between being a fan of Freddie Mercury, George Michael and Madonna, and my ongoing close ties to the LGBTQ+ community. My scope was never really singular. I was always into classical music, opera, and rock. I also sang in choirs as a child and later played the country guitar. By all means, music was the creative language of my childhood and adolescence.

But the echoes of Michael’s influence on me have very little to do with music. In his case, it was merely the vehicle for his message. I never thought he was perfect. Actually, even as a fifteen-year-old writing that novel, I could clearly see his human flaws. But that’s precisely where the power of his message lies. He was a self-proclaimed perfectionist who did it all despite his imperfections.

So, thank you, Michael, for making dreaming big and having goals feel right.

Thank you for helping me do the impossible.